“Riddle Me This”
By Dr. Bill Burch

Once upon a time a man was making a journey. He carried with him a fox, a goose, and a basket of grain. (Don’t ask me WHY the person in question took such a strange assortment of things on a trip—he just did.) He came to a wide river that could only be crossed by a boat. Due to the size of the boat, however, he could only take one item across at a time.
The man faced quite a dilemma. The fox would eat the goose if he left them alone. Yet the goose would eat the grain if left unsupervised. So how could the man transport the fox, the goose, and the grain across the river safely? There is NOT a trick answer to the riddle. For example, the fox didn’t swim across the river and the goose didn’t fly over the water. The answer is found at the end of the article.
When you read the explanation to the riddle, you will probably be amazed at the simplicity of the solution. Oftentimes, obvious answers are not so obvious until someone else reveals the solution. Then we strike our heads and exclaim, “Why didn’t I think of THAT?”
For instance, one day a man was changing a flat tire alongside the road. He removed the lug nuts and placed them in the hub cap. Then he proceeded to change the tire. In his haste, his elbow hit the hub cap and sent the lug nuts flying into a drain. As he puzzled over what to do next, his six year old son stuck his head out the window and said, “Daddy, why don’t you use one lug nut from each of the other tires?” The father expressed his amazement at the boy’s solution. His son replied, “Daddy, I may be young, but I’m not stupid!”
Here’s yet another riddle. I have two American coins in my hand that equal thirty cents—but one of them is NOT a quarter. So what two coins do I have? Give up?
SPOILER ALERT: Here is the solution to the first riddle. The man took the goose across the river. He returned to the other side and then brought the fox across. Then he took the goose BACK across the river to the original side. THEN he took the grain across and left it with the fox on the far side. Finally, he went back and brought the goose across the river AGAIN. It’s easy when you know the answer!
SPOILER ALERT: Here is the solution to the second riddle. I have two coins in my hand that equal thirty cents. One of them is NOT a quarter, but the OTHER coin IS a quarter! So the answer is a nickel and a quarter.
There are a variety of morals to these stories. One lesson learned would be to never travel with a fox, goose, and grain when a small boat is involved. A second is to beware of a preacher when he talks about money! A third is that solutions to riddles are always obvious once we know the solution. Oftentimes the only way to discover the right answer is to think outside the box and look at a problem from a totally different perspective.
I once heard an unusual management principle which stated: “Give your hardest job to your laziest person, and s/he will find the easiest way to do it!” Perhaps a corollary would read: “Give your insolvable problems to your most creative people, and they will find a way to solve them.” Our world faces many problems that seem insurmountable; but when I see the faces of our high school and college graduates during May, I take comfort in the belief that these young people will discover answers to the questions that we haven’t even learned to ask yet.

“Worshipping God in Spirit and Truth”
By Dr. Bill Burch

I have never enjoyed theological debates. I realize this is a rather odd sentiment coming from a pastor. However, debate connotes two persons with fervent beliefs on opposing sides of an issue. Both are convinced that they are right and their opponent is therefore wrong. I dislike debates because such disputes seldom find any common ground.
In church history, Paul was one of the great apologists of the Christian faith who vigorously defended his theological beliefs and practices. Yet even the apostle advised the church: “But avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and arguments and quarrels about the law, because these are unprofitable and useless.” (Titus 3: 9) So I write today with some hesitation and trepidation.
Several weeks ago I wrote a column about the various styles of worship offered at our church. In addition to the two Traditional Services at 8:30 and 11:00, we also have a Celebration Service at 9:45 which has a more contemporary flavor. The article reflected upon the diverse ways we worship. I also gave an unabashed invitation to Sam Jones Memorial United Methodist Church for those not presently part of a church family. Frankly, I thought it was one of the more innocuous and uncontroversial articles that I had written for the newspaper.
So during the past several weeks, I have observed with equal parts bemusement and amusement the small controversy that the column has created in our community. After the publication of the article, a letter to the editor denounced traditional and contemporary worship as an attempt to “please men rather than God” (and one assumes “women” as well). The author argued in favor of “authorized worship” that is Biblically based.
In turn, Curtis Rivers wrote an eloquent, balanced letter that recognized the variety of faith traditions that faithfully serve God. (In part, my column today serves as a public “thank you” to Curtis for his gracious words.) Then another letter to the editor offered a rebuttal to Curtis’s rebuttal to the original rebuttal—I think! The final letter in the chain included an unfavorable comparison to the Pharisees along with an inference that not all involved in the debate might make it to the Pearly Gates.
John Wesley founded the Methodist movement in eighteenth century England. He had a creative approach to persons who did not agree with his theology. Although the statement was not original to Mr. Wesley, he recommended this principle: “In essentials, unity. In nonessentials, liberty. And in all things, charity.”
There is certainly an essential, core set of beliefs that forms the heart of the Christian faith which cannot be compromised. There are also “nonessentials” of theology, worship, and polity where churches can graciously agree to disagree. However, all Christian debate should be conducted within the context of charity or love. Jesus said that others would know that we are his disciples by our love for one another.
For those who have ever heard me preach, you know that I tend to err on the side of grace rather than judgment. While humans tend to be exclusive, God’s love is inclusive. My guess is that we will all be surprised by who we see in heaven; and we may be humbled by others’ surprise to see us there as well. Together we will spend eternity worshipping in spirit and truth the Lord that all Christians serve.

Tool Time
By Dr. Bill Burch

Fisher-Price made my first tool set. The plastic hammer, screwdriver, and pliers came complete with a tool belt. I wandered around the house pounding on furniture, floors, and unwary pets. My sister got a “Nurse Nancy” medical kit at the same time. Perhaps my parents were prescient because the Band-Aids came in handy on more than one occasion.
I received my first “big boy” tool while participating in Cub Scouts. My parents gave me a three-bladed knife. The dull edge on the main blade could not have cut butter in July. However, my next-door neighbor’s dad had a workshop equipped with a grinder. My friend and I soon put a razor sharp edge on the knife. I used it to whittle on sticks, trees, and fingers.
During adolescence, I borrowed my father’s tools. He worked at Sears, and the Craftsmen tools he bought came with a lifetime guarantee. When I finally left home, I began my handyman career with a few basic tools. A man can accomplish almost anything with a hammer, screwdriver, duct tape, and some WD-40! Over the years, however, I have accumulated other equipment to make household chores easier.
The inventor of the cordless drill should be canonized as a saint. This handy-dandy device is a true labor saver. Men LOVE any tool with a trigger. Pull the switch and the battery-operated machine instantly drives a screw into wood or metal. Hanging blinds, drapes, shutters, diplomas, and pictures became a snap.
Then I purchased a stud-detector. The device locates two-by-fours behind the drywall. Although my wife will successfully hang an anvil from a pin tacked into the wall, I always prefer to drive a wood screw deep into a stud. At the risk of bragging, I have mounted mirrors and pictures that could survive an earthquake during a tornado in a hurricane without a tremor.
A few years ago I received a laser level for Christmas. Toys with bright lights fascinate boys of all ages. Attach a laser to a doll’s arm and a grown man will play with it for hours. I immediately found a dozen different uses for the new tool. For fans of the “Star Wars” series, it also makes a great light saber.
Despite all my high tech tools, I am more Tim the Toolman Taylor than Bob the Builder Burch. As a handyman, I am all thumbs. I perform most projects three times: the first time wrong, the second time not so wrong, and the third time “I’m finished no matter what it looks like!”
My grandfather was a master carpenter back in the day when the “power” in tools came from muscles rather than electrical cords. He built everything from houses to boats to birdhouses. I remember gazing in reverence at his old fashioned tools in a large, wooden box.
Unfortunately, I’m afraid his grandson inherited none of the family’s carpentry genes. Although I own enough tools to build a house, I limit myself to simple projects like hanging pictures, replacing light bulbs, oiling hinges, changing air filters, and painting small rooms. I will attempt simple plumbing jobs, but Mrs. Burch’s boy doesn’t mess with electricity or gas.
God graces us with a rich diversity of gifts, talents, and abilities. It is good to know what you ARE good at and--just as importantly--what you are NOT! Give thanks for the tools God gives us; and give thanks for the tools others own to perform the jobs that we cannot.

"Tool Time"
Tool Time
By Dr. Bill Burch

Fisher-Price made my first tool set. The plastic hammer, screwdriver, and pliers came complete with a tool belt. I wandered around the house pounding on furniture, floors, and unwary pets. My sister got a “Nurse Nancy” medical kit at the same time. Perhaps my parents were prescient because the Band-Aids came in handy on more than one occasion.
I received my first “big boy” tool while participating in Cub Scouts. My parents gave me a three-bladed knife. The dull edge on the main blade could not have cut butter in July. However, my next-door neighbor’s dad had a workshop equipped with a grinder. My friend and I soon put a razor sharp edge on the knife. I used it to whittle on sticks, trees, and fingers.
During adolescence, I borrowed my father’s tools. He worked at Sears, and the Craftsmen tools he bought came with a lifetime guarantee. When I finally left home, I began my handyman career with a few basic tools. A man can accomplish almost anything with a hammer, screwdriver, duct tape, and some WD-40! Over the years, however, I have accumulated other equipment to make household chores easier.
The inventor of the cordless drill should be canonized as a saint. This handy-dandy device is a true labor saver. Men LOVE any tool with a trigger. Pull the switch and the battery-operated machine instantly drives a screw into wood or metal. Hanging blinds, drapes, shutters, diplomas, and pictures became a snap.
Then I purchased a stud-detector. The device locates two-by-fours behind the drywall. Although my wife will successfully hang an anvil from a pin tacked into the wall, I always prefer to drive a wood screw deep into a stud. At the risk of bragging, I have mounted mirrors and pictures that could survive an earthquake during a tornado in a hurricane without a tremor.
A few years ago I received a laser level for Christmas. Toys with bright lights fascinate boys of all ages. Attach a laser to a doll’s arm and a grown man will play with it for hours. I immediately found a dozen different uses for the new tool. For fans of the “Star Wars” series, it also makes a great light saber.
Despite all my high tech tools, I am more Tim the Toolman Taylor than Bob the Builder Burch. As a handyman, I am all thumbs. I perform most projects three times: the first time wrong, the second time not so wrong, and the third time “I’m finished no matter what it looks like!”
My grandfather was a master carpenter back in the day when the “power” in tools came from muscles rather than electrical cords. He built everything from houses to boats to birdhouses. I remember gazing in reverence at his old fashioned tools in a large, wooden box.
Unfortunately, I’m afraid his grandson inherited none of the family’s carpentry genes. Although I own enough tools to build a house, I limit myself to simple projects like hanging pictures, replacing light bulbs, oiling hinges, changing air filters, and painting small rooms. I will attempt simple plumbing jobs, but Mrs. Burch’s boy doesn’t mess with electricity or gas.
God graces us with a rich diversity of gifts, talents, and abilities. It is good to know what you ARE good at and--just as importantly--what you are NOT! Give thanks for the tools God gives us; and give thanks for the tools others own to perform the jobs that we cannot.

"Sleeping in Church"

“Sleeping in Church”
By Dr. Bill Burch

“Frank” sang in the choir of a church I once served. During the sermon time, he had the disconcerting habit of closing his eyes and bowing his head. Call me cynical, but I strongly suspected that he was not praying. He sat on the top row of the choir loft, and his comatose condition was obvious to all. One day he caught me after church and confided in a low voice, “Preacher, you’ve probably noticed that I close my eyes occasionally during the sermon. I wanted to assure you that I am NOT sleeping—I just listen better with my eyes closed.” Some weeks he listened so well that his snores disturbed his fellow choir members.
Frank is certainly not alone. Sleeping during the sermon is a time honored tradition in church history. Probably some of the crowd dozed off during Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.” Even the best of preaching can evoke nodding heads and drooping eyes in the most faithful. People who never take a nap find themselves enjoying a small snooze during the sermon time.
I remember another church member who was confined to her home. During a pastoral visit, the dear saint talked about how much she enjoyed the church’s tape ministry. She said, “I like to listen to the services at bedtime. Many nights I fall asleep to the sound of your sermons.” I truly believe that she meant her words to be a sincere compliment. However, I was humbled to discover that my sermons served as the liturgical equivalent of a sleeping pill or warm glass of milk.
In the New Testament book of Acts, the author recounts Paul’s final visit to the town of Troas. On Sunday, the faithful joined together in an upper room for fellowship and worship. Paul planned to leave the next day, so he spoke far into the night. The loquacious apostle preached past midnight. A young man named Eutychus was seated in one of the windows. During the lengthy sermon, he fell into a deep sleep and then fell out the third-story window. The congregation rushed outside and found the boy dead on the street.
Paul gathered Eutychus into his arms and declared, “Don’t be alarmed, he’s alive!” The young man awoke and rejoined the congregation on the third floor. One assumes that he chose to sit in a chair this time. Given a second-wind by the experience, the apostle Paul continued to preach until dawn. My guess is that no one else dared fall asleep.
Needless to say, clergy find their congregants’ somnolent habits somewhat disturbing. Most preachers invest a great deal of time, effort, and prayer into homiletical preparation. I will be the first to admit that ministers can occasionally be dry and boring; however, there are also grace-filled moments when human words convey God’s Word.
When we fall asleep in church, there’s no telling what might happen. I am not suggesting that you might fall three stories to your death—but why take the chance? Paul won’t be around next time to wake you up!

"Celebration Worship"
“Celebration Worship”
By Dr. Bill Burch

I am a born and bred Methodist. I was born into a Methodist home, baptized as an infant at a Methodist altar, and confirmed as a member in a Methodist Church. I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Savior during a youth retreat at Camp Glisson—a Methodist camp in Dahlonega, Georgia. A year later I heard God’s call to the ministry during a Sunday evening worship service at Columbia Drive United Methodist Church. I attended a Methodist seminary at Emory University, and I have spent the past twenty-six years serving as a full-time pastor in the United Methodist Church. I did marry a pretty Baptist girl, but I convinced her to transfer her membership after our wedding day!
For most of my life, people knew what to expect when they attended a Methodist church on Sunday morning. Traditionally, mainline Methodist worship was relatively formal with liturgical elements such as responsive readings, the Apostles Creed, the Gloria Patri, and the Doxology. Most churches used the current Methodist hymnal, although some rural congregations continued to favor the old, brown-backed, Cokesbury songbook. I do recall in the 1970s when our minister took the radical step of adding a “Children’s Sermon” to the 11:00 service. In the country church of my teenage years, the theological debate of our time was whether it was appropriate to clap in church after a particularly stirring anthem.
Times have indeed changed. Methodist congregations continue to offer traditional worship services that are a vital part of our heritage. However, more and more churches are also sponsoring “contemporary” services that proclaim the Gospel to our modern world. I must confess that I have never been a fan of the term “contemporary.” ALL good worship is contemporary because it links God’s Word to our world. The message never changes; however, the medium needs to be constantly refreshed and renewed.
Four years ago our church completed a Family Life Center with a large, multipurpose room. The worship team had a vision to start a third worship service called “Celebration Worship.” This would offer a more contemporary worship experience along with our two existing traditional services. I had a colleague tell me that I was “brave” to try this. I later realized that “brave” was a codeword for “stupid!” Sometimes you just have to be “stupid” enough to trust that God can make things work that are not humanly possible. We launched the service in January 2004, and it has become a mainstay of our Sunday morning worship services.
We meet in the Family Life Center on Sunday mornings at 9:45 rather than in the sanctuary at 8:30 or 11:00. Instead of organ music, the band includes keyboards, drums, brass, bass, and guitars. Words projected on a large screen have replaced the hymnals. Multimedia, including PowerPoint and video, enhance and reinforce the message. This isn’t your grandparents’ Methodist Church, and it provides a needed alternative for those who don’t feel comfortable in traditional services.
I must confess that I began the Celebration Service with some trepidation and fear. I had never done anything like this before, and I had to learn a whole new set of skills. But God is good—all the time—and the Lord equips those whom He calls. The service has exceeded my greatest expectations, and I am delighted that I serve a church “big” enough to offer two very different styles of worship.
I invite you to join us each Sunday for our Traditional Services at 8:30 and 11:00 or the Celebration Service at 9:45. Same Word—different world, same message—different medium, same God—now and forever.

"Comfort Food"

“Comfort Food”
By Dr. Bill Burch

“Comfort food” is a relatively new addition to our culture’s vernacular. Webster’s Dictionary added the term in its 1972 edition. The phrase refers to any type of food that promotes a feeling of well-being and contentment. We often associate these foods with pleasant, childhood memories. Comfort cuisine typically has a high sugar and carbohydrate content.
Comfort foodstuff is suitable for all occasions. Many turn to familiar fare during moments of high stress. Other times people celebrate accomplishments with their favorite snack. Sometimes folk just eat because they are bored. Regardless of cause, these special dishes bring a sense of satisfaction. The physical sensation promotes mental ease and emotional consolation.
Comfort foods are as diverse as the people who consume them. Sugary desserts are perennial favorites. Macaroni and cheese is also popular. Grilled cheese sandwiches oozing with butter can fill the empty corners of life. Fried chicken ranks high in the southern United States. Pizza with various toppings is another “go-to” food. And, of course, chicken soup is always good for the soul.
I have a personal list of comfort foods. Vegetable soup simmering in a crock pot on a winter’s day warms both the body and spirit. Piping hot biscuits and cheese grits for breakfast are a great way to start the day. Homemade ice cream on Independence Day reminds me of family reunions during childhood. Three-layered chocolate cake with a cold glass of milk recalls past birthdays. Munching on popcorn in front of the TV transports me back to boyhood. While they don’t qualify as gourmet fare, I still love those frozen chicken-pot-pies in their individual tin containers.
Comfort food also plays an important role in the Bible. In the Old Testament, breaking bread with others was a covenantal act of faith. Manna fed the Israelites in the wilderness. The Psalmist wrote about God “preparing a table in the presence of mine enemies.” The Jewish people described God’s coming kingdom as a messianic banquet.
In the New Testament, Jesus performed his first miracle at a wedding feast in Cana of Galilee. Christ did some of his best work while sitting around a table with his disciples. The only miracle recorded in all four gospels (other than the Resurrection itself) was the multiplication of the loaves and fishes. On their final night together, Jesus shared with his friends a last supper. When Christ appeared to the disciples after the Resurrection, he asked them for something to eat.
Comfort food continues to be an important part of church life today. Many congregations gather each Wednesday for a Family Night Supper. We ask God’s blessings upon our meals before eating. In worship, we remember Christ’s words of institution as we partake of the loaf and cup of Holy Communion. A people of faith are also mindful of others’ needs and share their resources so that all might be full.
In the Lord’s Prayer, we ask that God would grant us “our daily bread.” This is not only a prayer for life’s physical sustenance but also a petition that our Lord will fulfill our every need. Jesus knew that we do not live by bread alone but by living Word of God. The best comfort food satisfies both the body and the soul. Those who feast on God’s Word find a comfort that this world cannot give. Nothing else will ultimately satisfy our hunger within.

"Last Words"

Last Words
Dr. Bill Burch

I lived next door to a church cemetery during the first nine years of my pastoral ministry. People often asked if a graveyard’s proximity ever bothered me. I always answered quite truthfully, “No, it contains some of the best neighbors in the world!” The local residents never bothered me. However, it would have only taken one incident for me to consider relocating.
I enjoyed walking through the cemeteries and reading the headstones. Some of the names were familiar while others were total strangers. Many had lived long years upon the earth; but their entire lives were summed up in two dates with a dash separating them.
I have been thinking about my own tombstone lately. Not that I actually own one, mind you. Possessing an engraved tombstone while I am still above ground is a bit disconcerting to me. There is no need to bother the stonemason before my time. Quite frankly, I find myself in no hurry to need the services of a marker or a plot.
Yet I have thought about what epitaph might best sum up my life in stone. A sentimental “Gone but not forgotten” would be nice. Or I could go the religious route with “Asleep in the Lord.” I’ve even considered a humorous inscription such as “I told you I was sick!”
Regardless of my final decision, there will come a day when I am not. Although the possibility seems incomprehensible, the world will continue long after I am gone. Even graven lines etched deep in granite will weather and fade with time.
I live with the confidence, however, that I will never be forgotten. One will still know me by name. The Maker of the heavens and the earth has promised that God’s children never perish. John Donne wrote a classic poem entitled “Death, Be Not Proud.” The final verse proclaims: “One short sleep past, we wake eternally, and Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die.”
In a high hymn of hope and praise, the apostle Paul exclaimed: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!”
On Easter Sunday we celebrate the good news of the Resurrection. No tombstone marks Jesus of Nazareth’s grave. The first disciples discovered an empty tomb. The angelic proclamation still rings in our ears today: “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen, just as he said!”
The message on my tombstone will not ultimately matter. My challenge is to make the dash between the two dates into the Christian race run well. Maybe I will simply have my name and the two customary years inscribed on my tombstone. After the second date, however, they can place a comma rather than a period. Easter reminds us that death is not the end but a new beginning for all that trust in the Lord.

"Hero"

Hero
By Dr. Bill Burch

I read an article by Alex Wainer that was originally published at BreakPoint.org and later reprinted by “Good News” magazine. He explores the human fascination with heroes of myth and culture. The title of the piece is “Stories that won’t go away.”
Joseph Campbell wrote the seminal work on the topic entitled “The Hero with a Thousand Faces.” In the book, he examines the common themes of “the hero’s journey.” A young man receives a call to go on an adventure. An older man serves as a mentor. Along the way, the hero discovers unknown abilities and receives powerful gifts. A series of trials and attacks test and purify the proponent’s character. The hero is ultimately victorious and returns home to public adulation.
The same pattern appears in the stories and myths of countless cultures across time and place. Beowulf, Jason, Hercules, Spiderman, Luke Skywalker, and Harry Potter all take “the hero’s journey.” Their stories speak to something deep in the human psyche. The tales tell us something about ourselves and the cosmos.
J. R. R. Tolkien replicated the myth in “The Lord of the Rings.” Frodo Baggins engages in an adventure to destroy the one ring of power. The wise wizard, Gandalf the Grey, fulfills the role of mentor and guide. Frodo is challenged and transformed by trials and temptations. In a final twist of the plot, he unwillingly destroys the ring before returning from the brink of death to a hero’s welcome.
Tolkien met regularly with other writers and professors who called themselves “The Inkblots.” The group included some of the finest minds of England. C. S. Lewis was numbered among the elect group. Together they explored the power of myth to communicate deep truths.
Tolkien was a devoted Roman Catholic. Lewis later became a Christian in midlife. Both believed that the myths bubbling up throughout history revealed an instinctive desire in humanity for salvation. In an essay entitled “Myth Became Fact,” Lewis detailed how the hero myth became reality in Jesus of Nazareth. In a particular place and time, God sent his son to fulfill the divine will.
All other stories derive from God’s one great Story. Born in obscurity in a backwater province of the Roman Empire, Jesus responds to God’s claim upon his life. His heavenly Father guides him in a three year journey filled with trials, tests, and temptations. Yet the Christ reveals his true nature in his words, deeds, and miracles. At the cross, the journey seems to come to an abrupt end. Yet the risen Lord is ultimately victorious and returns to his heavenly home. Some day every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord!
There is one other twist to the plot: God invites the hearer to join in the hero’s journey. As Martin Luther put it, disciples become “little Christs” that follow in the Master’s footsteps. We share in our Lord’s victory over sin and death. The old has passed away, and the new has come. All are invited to share the final prize.
Everybody needs a hero or a heroine. Oftentimes we look to men and women to fulfill this need. However, they are ultimately flawed in one way or another. The true hero of faith is Jesus of Nazareth. To borrow from another’s title, it is the greatest story ever told.

"Out of Order"
Out of Order
By Dr. Bill Burch

Like most men of a manly persuasion, I enjoy shopping at the big box, mega-home stores that carry everything from air hammers to zinc bolts. Males experience a primal thrill while roving through lofty canyons of tools, lumber, appliances, and fertilizer. There’s just something mannish about a towering display of faucets or doorknobs.
I must confess that I am not the handiest of men. I tend to be more “Tim the Toolman” than “Bob the Builder.” Yet I do occasionally undertake minor home repairs to validate my manhood. One day I was buying supplies for a plumbing project. After handling several lengths of PVC pipe, my hands were filthy. So I visited the facilities to wash up.
Imagine my astonishment when I saw an “Out of Order” sign on the sink! Just outside the door was an acre of plumbing equipment and supplies. Knowledgeable and experienced salespersons could answer any question about sinks, showers, commodes, and faucets. Yet the home repair store’s own sink ironically remained broken.
People have similar experiences when they visit the church. Don’t misunderstand, our sinks are usually operational. However, many have an unrealistic expectation of who and what church people should be. They are disillusioned to discover that Christians are broken people with the same faults and failings as anyone else.
Hypocrisy is the most common charge brought against the church. Denouncers accuse Christians of not practicing what they preach. Do you know why people think the church is filled with hypocrites? Because the church is filled with hypocrites!
Christian literally means “Christ like.” Martin Luther called Jesus’ followers “little Christs.” Our Lord himself said, “Be perfect as your father in heaven is perfect.” None of us has yet fulfilled our high calling. We are all guilty of hypocrisy’s sin.
I’m not trying to make excuses for human frailty. We do have a high and holy calling. The church is challenged to be the body of Jesus Christ. We dare not mutter, “Well, we’re only human” while acting bestial. Someone once observed that “the church is not a museum for saints but a hospital for sinners.” Christians are not perfect, just forgiven. We gather together to hear God’s word of grace and life.
Each individual and congregation is in the process of renovation. God’s people are projects under construction. I heard an architect say that construction is like surgery—it isn’t pretty halfway through! Yet the end result makes the effort worthwhile.
Our Lord creates and recreates us. Paul wrote: “In Christ, we are new creatures.” The change occurs in a moment, but the transformation takes a lifetime. John Wesley said we are called to travel the road of Christian perfection. If we are not headed in this direction, then where are we going?
I heard a story about a “testimony meeting” in a country church. One old man had difficulty putting his witness into words. He finally managed to say: “I ain’t what I ought to be, but thank God I ain’t what I was!”
Yes, the church is filled with hypocrites. Why don’t you join us? You’ll feel right at home!

"How Firm a Foundation"
How Firm a Foundation
By Dr. Bill Burch

During the past ten years, I have gained much more experience in church construction than I ever desired. I am by no means an expert—I possess just enough knowledge to be dangerous. However, I have learned some important lessons along the way.
In 2003, our congregation completed a Family Life Center. I found the entire process quite fascinating. We had no sooner broken ground than the first challenge occurred. I am embarrassed to share that our church possessed “bad” dirt.” The site had a deep layer of organic soil. Farmers would consider this “good” topsoil, but construction engineers possess a different perspective.
So they trucked out the “bad” dirt and hauled in some “good” dirt. To an untrained eye, the “good” dirt did not look very good at all. In fact, it appeared to be the kind of red Georgia clay that produces stains in young boys’ clothing that even Tide won’t remove. Yet the new earth compacted firmly to form a solid base.
Bringing in the “good” dirt was not enough, however. After each layer was spread, earthmovers ponderously moved across the site to compact the soil. Then another layer was added until the foundation reached the desire height.
Then to my amazement, the workers dug holes into the dirt they had worked so hard to smooth. Forms were erected and reinforced concrete poured deep into the excavations. The “footings” formed the base for the structure. Afterwards, the supervisor assured me that the building stood on a firm foundation.
Although I do not possess an engineering degree, I knew that the building supervisor was absolutely correct. The church stands on the firmest foundation of all. We are grounded in the Rock of Ages and the stone that was rolled away. The church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord.
“Church” is used in a variety of ways in the English language. It can indicate a location: “Turn right at the church.” The word can also refer to a worship service: “Church starts at 11:00.” Often we think of the “church” as a building: “The church is downtown.” Yet a childhood rhyme reminds us: “Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the door and see all the people.” The church is actually the people of God through out time and space.
Sometimes we forget this simple lesson. Humanity has always tended to worship the created rather than the Creator. The prophet Jeremiah mocked his kinsmen who made idols with their own hands and then worshipped the very things they had made. Worshipping a church building rather than the church’s Lord is simply a more sophisticated form of idolatry.
“Church” buildings are only a means to a greater end. They are earthly tools with heavenly purpose. The real bricks and sticks of ministry are the missions that transform lives. 1 Peter extends the analogy to say we are “living stones” being built into a spiritual temple.
How firm a foundation the Lord has laid for the church! It will last through the end of this world and into the next. We stand on holy ground, and everything else is just “bad” dirt.

"How Firm a Foundation"
How Firm a Foundation
By Dr. Bill Burch

During the past ten years, I have gained much more experience in church construction than I ever desired. I am by no means an expert—I possess just enough knowledge to be dangerous. However, I have learned some important lessons along the way.
In 2003, our congregation completed a Family Life Center. I found the entire process quite fascinating. We had no sooner broken ground than the first challenge occurred. I am embarrassed to share that our church possessed “bad” dirt.” The site had a deep layer of organic soil. Farmers would consider this “good” topsoil, but construction engineers possess a different perspective.
So they trucked out the “bad” dirt and hauled in some “good” dirt. To an untrained eye, the “good” dirt did not look very good at all. In fact, it appeared to be the kind of red Georgia clay that produces stains in young boys’ clothing that even Tide won’t remove. Yet the new earth compacted firmly to form a solid base.
Bringing in the “good” dirt was not enough, however. After each layer was spread, earthmovers ponderously moved across the site to compact the soil. Then another layer was added until the foundation reached the desire height.
Then to my amazement, the workers dug holes into the dirt they had worked so hard to smooth. Forms were erected and reinforced concrete poured deep into the excavations. The “footings” formed the base for the structure. Afterwards, the supervisor assured me that the building stood on a firm foundation.
Although I do not possess an engineering degree, I knew that the building supervisor was absolutely correct. The church stands on the firmest foundation of all. We are grounded in the Rock of Ages and the stone that was rolled away. The church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord.
“Church” is used in a variety of ways in the English language. It can indicate a location: “Turn right at the church.” The word can also refer to a worship service: “Church starts at 11:00.” Often we think of the “church” as a building: “The church is downtown.” Yet a childhood rhyme reminds us: “Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the door and see all the people.” The church is actually the people of God through out time and space.
Sometimes we forget this simple lesson. Humanity has always tended to worship the created rather than the Creator. The prophet Jeremiah mocked his kinsmen who made idols with their own hands and then worshipped the very things they had made. Worshipping a church building rather than the church’s Lord is simply a more sophisticated form of idolatry.
“Church” buildings are only a means to a greater end. They are earthly tools with heavenly purpose. The real bricks and sticks of ministry are the missions that transform lives. 1 Peter extends the analogy to say we are “living stones” being built into a spiritual temple.
How firm a foundation the Lord has laid for the church! It will last through the end of this world and into the next. We stand on holy ground, and everything else is just “bad” dirt.

"Chicken Catching"

Chicken Catching
By Dr. Bill Burch

Comedians have long posed the question: “Why did the chicken cross the road?” Frankly, the poultry industry could care less WHY. However, farmers are quite interested in discovering HOW to make a chicken go anywhere. Unlike some farm animals, hens and roosters are mindlessly stubborn. One expert observed, “You just can’t herd chickens!”
Traditionally, poultry farmers have employed human catchers to gather the flocks. A chicken catcher’s less than enviable vocation is to run around hen houses, grabbing the panicked occupants by their drumsticks. The fowl job is rough on both catcher and catchee alike. The captors are regularly pecked, scratched, and fertilized. The captives understandably object to being snatched up by their feet and then carried upside down with several of their neighbors.
For years, the poultry industry has experimented with mechanical devices capable of catching and caging chickens. Earlier experiments proved to be less than successful. One of the more infamous attempts was the “Chicken Vacuum.” It employed negative air pressure to suck birds up a long hose onto the trucks. Somersaulting chickens, flying feathers, and clogged tubes led to its demise.
However, the Lewis/Mola Company has finally created a machine that works. The PH2000 is a marvel of human innovation and mechanical precision. The $200,000 device is 42 feet long and weights over 18,000 pounds. It slowly creeps down a chicken house, sweeping a metal ramp before it. Rubber fingers gently gather each hen onto a conveyer belt. A burst of air sends the chicken down a chute and into a wire cage.
I served a church in northeast Georgia where poultry farming was big business. Church members operated chicken houses several football fields long. Whenever I visited their homes, the aroma could be overwhelming. Noticing my discomfort one day, an old farmer gathered in a great lung full of air and declared, “Smells like money to me!”
God created us with different interests and desires. I have absolutely no desire to do anything involving chickens. Yet others love it. In a similar fashion, people sometimes say to me: “I could never be a minister.” Yet I cannot imagine doing anything else.
In the Protestant tradition, the “priesthood of all believers” is emphasized. The theological doctrine has many facets. In part, it recognizes that jobs are not holy, people are holy. God can “baptize” our work and sanctify our labor. Secular employment can be a holy vocation when offered up to the Lord.
Pastors serve in specialized ministries; however, each child of God is called to be a minister. Lay people live out their calling in schools, hospitals, offices, factories, and chicken houses. Nurses, teachers, masons, cooks, stay-at-home parents, politicians, small business owners, and farmers all honor the Lord in their chosen fields.
Chicken catchers may soon follow keypunch operators and typewriter repairmen into history. Yet work abounds that will employ our God given talents, interests, and abilities. No need to be chicken—the Lord has a job for each of us!

Saying "I Do" Every Day
Saying “I Do” Every Day
By Dr. Bill Burch

Couples celebrating significant anniversaries sometimes renew their marriage vows. Such ceremonies are most popular on silver and golden anniversaries. However, any occasion is a wonderful opportunity to reaffirm marital love and devotion.
On wedding days, brides and grooms do not fully understand what it means to say “I do.” Phrases like “to love and cherish,” “in sickness and in health,” and “till death us do part” slip easily from the lips. Only “oldie weds” really understand the reality behind the words. While love may be blind, marriage is a real eye opener!
Suppose a renewal service addressed the realities of married life. Even better, what if husbands and wives wrote their spouses’ vows? No doubt such a ceremony would be much more enlightening and entertaining!
Imagine a couple named Ken and Barbie who have been married for twenty-five years. They live in a four-bedroom home with three children, two dogs, and one cat. On their silver anniversary, they decide to write their own renewal vows—but here’s the catch—for one another! What would each person want their spouse to say? The service might sound something like this.
KEN: “I, Ken, take thee, Barbie, to be my wedded wife, to have and to cuddle from this day forward. I promise to put the toilet seat down, pick wet towels off the bathroom floor, and not clip my toenails in bed. I will read your mind and know what it really means when you say, ‘Nothing’s wrong!’ I vow to leave my dirty boots on the carport, take out the trash without being reminded, wash your car weekly, and watch the ‘Home and Garden’ channel on TV with you. At Valentine’s, I will buy flannel robes rather than silk teddies. I will remember that camouflage is never a good fashion choice and going to Arby’s is not your idea of a night out. Finally, I vow to answer ‘Yes, dear’ to whatever you might say. God, help me. Uh, I mean, so help me God!”
BARBIE: “I, Barbie, take thee, Ken, to be my wedded husband, to pamper and indulge from this day forward. I will never wear curlers to bed, hang pantyhose on the shower, or use your razor for shaving. I grant full custody of the TV remote to you. I acknowledge that channel surfing is a legitimate sport and watching three television shows at once is not abnormal for males. I will always check my car’s gas gauge, oil level, and tire pressure. I will never complain when you snore. I will drive the car only if I’m seated behind the steering wheel. I vow to load the dishwasher correctly, clean the dryer lent trap, be ready to leave on time, and never ask, ‘Are you wearing THAT?’ God better help us both! So help me God.”
Planning a beautiful wedding is a singular challenge. Maintaining a healthy marriage is a life long commitment. Anniversaries are earned one day at a time. When couples say “I do,” they must renew their vows not only annually but also daily.

Saying "I Do" Every Day

Saying “I Do” Every Day
By Dr. Bill Burch

Couples celebrating significant anniversaries sometimes renew their marriage vows. Such ceremonies are most popular on silver and golden anniversaries. However, any occasion is a wonderful opportunity to reaffirm marital love and devotion.
On wedding days, brides and grooms do not fully understand what it means to say “I do.” Phrases like “to love and cherish,” “in sickness and in health,” and “till death us do part” slip easily from the lips. Only “oldie weds” really understand the reality behind the words. While love may be blind, marriage is a real eye opener!
Suppose a renewal service addressed the realities of married life. Even better, what if husbands and wives wrote their spouses’ vows? No doubt such a ceremony would much more enlightening and entertaining!
Imagine a couple named Ken and Barbie who have been married for twenty-five years. They live in a four-bedroom home with three children, two dogs, and one cat. On their silver anniversary, they decide to write their own renewal vows—but here’s the catch—for one another! What would each person want their spouse to say? The service might sound something like this.
KEN: “I, Ken, take thee, Barbie, to be my wedded wife, to have and to cuddle from this day forward. I promise to put the toilet seat down, pick wet towels off the bathroom floor, and not clip my toenails in bed. I will read your mind and know what it really means when you say, ‘Nothing’s wrong!’ I vow to leave my dirty boots on the carport, take out the trash without being reminded, wash your car weekly, and watch the ‘Home and Garden’ channel on TV with you. At Valentine’s, I will buy flannel robes rather than silk teddies. I will remember that camouflage is never a good fashion choice and going to Arby’s is not your idea of a night out. Finally, I vow to answer ‘Yes, dear’ to whatever you might say. God, help me. Uh, I mean, so help me God!”
BARBIE: “I, Barbie, take thee, Ken, to be my wedded husband, to pamper and indulge from this day forward. I will never wear curlers to bed, hang pantyhose on the shower, or use your razor for shaving. I grant full custody of the TV remote to you. I acknowledge that channel surfing is a legitimate sport and watching three television shows at once is not abnormal for males. I will always check my car’s gas gauge, oil level, and tire pressure. I will never complain when you snore. I will drive the car only if I’m seated behind the steering wheel. I vow to load the dishwasher correctly, clean the dryer lent trap, be ready to leave on time, and never ask, ‘Are you wearing THAT?’ God better help us both! So help me God.”
Planning a beautiful wedding is a singular challenge. Maintaining a healthy marriage is a life long commitment. Anniversaries are earned one day at a time. When couples say “I do,” they must renew their vows not only annually but also daily.

"The Heart of Love"
The Heart of Love
By Dr. Bill Burch

The origins of Valentine’s Day are an inseparable blending of fact and myth. Most scholars believe the holiday grew out of the ancient Roman festival of Lupercalia. The pagan celebration provided an occasion for all sorts of excess. In 496 A. D., Pope Gelasius of Rome attempted to transform the pagan festival of debauchery into a Christian celebration of love. He created a new holy day named in honor of two church martyrs. Both men were named Valentine.
The first Valentine was a priest beheaded in 269 A. D. for assisting persecuted Christians. Three years afterwards another Valentine was executed because he converted a Roman family to the Christian faith. Both men were later canonized as saints.
Today, February 14th is a celebration of romantic love. Cupids, hearts, candy, flowers, and cards express undying affection for one’s beloved. Even the “Saint” in “Valentine’s Day” is usually missing. Apparently, Pope Gelasius’ attempt to replace a secular holiday with a Christian holy day largely failed!
Perhaps our society needs to recapture the spirit of Saint Valentine. In a culture of narcissistic self-gratification and disposable relationships, these saints remind us of love’s true nature. They exemplified the Christian virtue of love in life and death. The martyrs named Valentine understood the selfless nature of love. They put others’ welfare before their own.
Love is not love until it costs something. True love costs a lot. Real love demands costly action. More than a “sentimental journey,” Christian love is an active, selfless, and sacrificial willingness to seek out the best for others. Jesus taught his disciples that true love means the willingness to “lay down one’s life for his friends.”
Godly love is not ultimately based upon feeling but willing. Deep love is not an emotion of the heart but a discipline of the soul. Warm, fuzzy feelings will only carry us so far. Christian love is much deeper and sterner stuff. We love because God first loved us. With such confidence, we can risk loving others.
While most of us will never be martyred for the faith, we can lay down our lives in daily service to others. Simple, every day acts of kindness and thoughtfulness are the most common expressions of love. Hardly the stuff of newspaper headlines, but practical acts of love can transform ourselves and others.
What Valentine’s Day gifts will we give and receive this year? Allow me to suggest something beyond flowers, candy, and cards. This week we could forgive a grudge, visit someone who is sick, listen to one’s spouse, read to a child, give blood, deliver a meal, provide a break for a care giver, or call someone who is grieving. Actions that cost us time, energy, and effort are true expressions of Christian love. Such love is both costly and priceless. Anything else is only lip service to an unrealized ideal.
Happy Valentine’s Day—I hope it costs you a lot!

"Be Ye Perfect"
“Be Ye Perfect!”
By Dr. Bill Burch

Some years ago I was reading in the den when I heard a CLOMP, CLOMP, CLOMP coming down the hall. My two year old daughter had been amusing herself in Mommy and Daddy’s closet. Katie had pulled my old cowboy boots on her feet. Her toes didn’t come past the heels, and the boots reached her waist, but she could not have been prouder of her new footwear.
If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then parents ought to blush. Children play dress up because they seek to mimic their parents. Our young sons and daughters want to grow up to be just like us.
We are all children of our Heavenly Father, brothers and sisters to Jesus Christ. God's hope is that we will grow up to be just like him. Ephesians 5:1 encourages us to "be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children." Yet I must confess there are moments in my Christian life when I feel like a small child clomping around in shoes much too large for me.
God invites us to share in his holy nature. In Leviticus, he commands his people, "Be holy as I am holy." 1 Peter 1:15-16 says, "But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: 'Be holy, because I am holy.'"
The Scriptural definition of holiness means to be set apart for God’s use. The Sabbath is holy because it is set apart for rest and recreation. A sanctuary is holy because it is set apart for worship. God’s people are holy because we are set apart for God's work.
We are called to be a holy people, set apart for God’s use. Yet Jesus took this one step further. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus expressed holiness in truly radical terms. In Matthew 5:48, Christ told his disciples, "Be ye perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect!"
The call to Christian perfection has played an important role in the Methodist movement. One of the distinctive contributions Methodism has made to the church is its emphasis on holiness. John Wesley believed God created the Methodist Church to "spread Scriptural holiness throughout the world." To this day, clergy ordained in the Methodist tradition are asked Wesley's historical questions: “Have you faith in Christ? Are you going on to perfection? Do you expect to be made perfect in love in this life? Are you earnestly striving after it?”
And the ministers are expected to answer. “YES!” Usually, this response is accompanied by some nervous laughter and uneasy smiles. Yet Bishop Cannon would challenge ordinands by asking, "If you are not headed in that direction, then which way are you going?"
And this may give us insight into Jesus' words: "Be ye perfect." Perhaps the destination is more important than the time of arrival. Life's ultimate direction leads our daily steps. In his classic book entitled A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, William Law wrote, "The question is not, 'Can gospel perfection be fully attained?' but 'Have you come as near it as sincere intention and careful diligence can carry you?'” If we answer no, then we have not taken seriously Christ's call to radical discipleship.
We have mighty big shoes to fill. Sometimes we may feel like a toddler clomping around in boots that come up to our waist. Yet we are called to grow in grace so that how we live corresponds more and more to who we are. When others look at our lives, they ought to be able to say, "You look just like your heavenly father."

"Liquid Theology"
“Liquid Theology”
By Dr. Bill Burch

Bottled water has become a multi-billion dollar business. The industry spends over $100 million annually in advertising, touting the merits of bottled water over the liquid stuff that comes from a tap. National brands cost more per gallon than gasoline. Yet studies suggest that no discernable difference exists between designer and tap water.
We enjoyed bottled water in my childhood home long before it became popular. My mother used empty syrup bottles and labeled them with our names. She filled the containers with water and placed them in the refrigerator. Whenever we became thirsty, a cool drink awaited us in the ‘frig.
Back in the 1960s, no one thought much about water. Every faucet tapped into an inexhaustible supply. We took long baths with shower heads that dispensed enough pressurized water to peel paint. Oversized commodes flushed away countless gallons with a satisfying rush of liquid. When the plumbing ran too long, jiggling the handle took care of the problem.
During the summer, no one in our neighborhood had window air conditioners—much less central units. “Smart homes” with high tech conveniences boasted attic fans. Children actually played outside throughout the day and well into the evening. When we were thirsty (hydration and dehydration had not been invented yet), we would take a long pull off a garden hose. Health experts now warn against the dangers of lead poisoning in water hoses. In fact, they (the hoses, not the health experts) now come with warning labels that warn against human consumption. This might explain a whole host of ills plaguing my generation!
The current drought in Georgia has reminded us yet again that water is a precious commodity. Water is life. Approximately 80% of the earth’s surface and our bodies’ mass is water. The advent of new birth is heralded by the breaking of water. People can survive days and even weeks without food; however, dehydration can kill quickly. Georgia’s drought has delivered an arid reminder about the precious liquid’s value.
I recently read an article about “what might have been” in Georgia’s management of our natural resources. A number of different plans, including additional dams and reservoirs, have been proposed during the past twenty years. Yet humanity in general, and politicians in particular, tend to be quite shortsighted. No one thinks about a water shortage when the precious liquid is bountiful. When a drought occurs, it is already years too late to make adequate preparations.
Tap, spring, artesian, or bottled—water is life. Water is not an inexhaustible resource. Instead, it is a precious gift of creation that must be wisely utilized. According to Genesis, God created humanity as caretakers of Eden’s Garden. The Lord trusted all of creation to humanity’s care. A theological understanding of stewardship informs how we care for the environment. We are trustees of the world around us, and we are called to pass it on to our children and grandchildren in a better condition than we found it.

“Missing Manners”
By Dr. Bill Burch

Emily Post spent a lifetime promoting couth in American culture. Her books and articles on good manners taught generations the niceties of deportment and comportment. Missus Post died when I was only two years old; however, her books on etiquette shaped my formative years. In a less permissive age, my parents imprinted the importance of proper behavior upon my mind AND my derriere.
From the time I could talk, my father and mother taught me to address older adults as “Sir” or “Mam.” Only children with “no raising” did otherwise. They corrected my occasional lapses with a stern glance and rebuke. Repetitive omissions led to more dire consequences. “Huh,” “what,” “yeah,” and “nope” were not considered to be acceptable responses to a question or statement by an adult. The times have indeed changed. Today “Sir” and “Mam” have almost become quaint, Southern colloquialisms.
During my childhood years, a gentleman did NOT wear a hat or cap inside a building. EVER. NEVER. To do so was a serious breach of social decorum. During elementary school, I once got a scalp-short haircut that the more charitable might have called a crew-cut. I was so embarrassed that I wore a baseball cap into the school to hide my head. Based upon the consequences of my actions, I might as well have streaked naked down the hall. Today not only teenagers but also grown adults think nothing of wearing a hat inside a building. I have never actually snatched a cap off of a young’un’s head at church, but I have considered it on several occasions.
My parents and teachers taught me table manners. Don’t take a bite of food until the final “Amen” of the blessing has been uttered. Don’t chew with your mouth open. Keep your elbows off the table. Place your napkin in your lap. Offer the last piece to others before taking it for yourself. Pass a dish around the table before helping yourself. Don’t talk with your mouth full. Pepper your conversation with words like “Please,” “Thank you,” “You’re welcome,” and “Excuse me.” Ask, “May I be excused?” before leaving the table. Take your plate to the kitchen sink. Make sure and thank the cook for a delicious meal. In our present, manner-less age, a visit to a restaurant would send Emily Post screaming into the streets.
We received a graduate degree in phone manners. Answer the phone with a pleasant, “Hello.” Never yell into the mouthpiece for another family member to answer the phone. Say “Goodbye” at the end of a conversation. When calling someone, identify yourself and then ask for the person that you would like to speak to. And one of my personal, pet peeves, NEVER call someone and then ask, “Who is this?” If you don’t know who you are calling, then you probably shouldn’t be calling to begin with!
An entire subset of manners was dedicated to how a gentleman should treat a lady. “Ladies first” was the main theme. Hold a door open and let a woman go before you. Open and close the car door for her. A man should always walk on the side closest to the street. Pull back her chair at the table. Never honk your horn for a date.
In 1 Corinthians 13, the apostle Paul wrote a beautiful description of divine and human love. In the midst of his eloquent rhetoric about the nature of love, he added: “Love is not rude.” This seems like a rather mundane and pedestrian sentiment when compared to his soaring flights of poetry. At the heart of rude behavior, however, is the belief that I am more important than others. Yet the Bible commands: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Politeness and manners may not be Biblical injunctions, but they are social niceties that lubricate the friction that often occurs in relationships. I believe that both God and Missus Post would agree.

"Life in a Small Town"

Life in a Small Town
By Dr. Bill Burch

Some time back I read an anonymous article about life in a small town. Part of the church newsletter article is reproduced here.

You know you’re in a small town when . . .
 Third Street is on the edge of town.
 The newspaper editor always carries a camera.
 You call each dog you pass by name.
 You don’t use your turn signal because everyone knows where you’re going.
You know you’re in a small town when . . .
 You’re run off Main Street by a tractor.
 You dial a wrong number and talk for fifteen minutes anyway!
 You can’t walk for exercise because every car stops to offer you a ride.
You know you’re in a small town when . . .
 You drive into a ditch five miles out of town and word gets back before you do!
 You write a check on the wrong bank, and they cover it anyway.
 Someone asks how you feel and then listens to what you say.
 You miss a Sunday at church and receive a “Get Well” card in the mail!

I enjoy living in the “small town” atmosphere of our area. I will admit to a certain bias, but I think our community enjoys the best of all worlds. Yet the very qualities that endear the region to its residents’ hearts also make it attractive to others. Bartow County has experienced unprecedented growth during the past years. The future promises even more of the same.
Life long citizens of Cartersville seem to view the growth with mixed emotions. On the one hand, the new stores, restaurants, and other conveniences are a great boon to the economy. Business people have enjoyed tremendous growth in sales and profits.
On the other hand, people grieve over the loss of a “small town” atmosphere. Strangers walk the sidewalks and traffic clogs the streets. Different faces, cultures, and languages have transformed this small Southern town.
My parents still live in southern Cherokee County. We witnessed firsthand the negative aspects of uncontrolled growth. The rapid expansion overwhelmed the county’s infrastructure. It takes dedicated and inspired leaders to ride the tiger of growth without being consumed in the process.
Regardless of our preferences, continued growth is a fact of life in our area. The Department of Transportation would probably frown on the construction of a moat at the county line! The population will continue to expand whether we like it to or not. The question becomes how we respond to newcomers in our midst.
The Bible speaks a great deal about the duty of hospitality. Extending a welcome to guests is not only a responsibility but also a privilege. Paul even wrote that we sometimes entertain angels unaware. Jesus said that when we minister to strangers, we minister unto Christ himself.
Our region is well known for its Southern hospitality. I hope this is one custom we never outgrow. We will continue to have the opportunity to say, “Ya’ll come back now, hear?”

"Weathering the Storms of Life"

“Weathering the Storms of Life”
By Dr. Bill Burch

Last year the Metropolitan Life Insurance Company launched an ad campaign with the catchphrase: “Guarantees for the If in Life.” The new theme is the first change in MetLife’s advertising strategy in six years. The former slogan “Have you Met Life Today?” still appears in the corner of the ads.
Beth Hirschhorn is the chief marketing officer at the MetLife corporate office in New York. In an interview, she indicated that the change was based upon market research. Consumers are looking for increased security in very uncertain times. Hirschhorn said, “They are aware of the erosion of traditional safety nets,” and then added, “MetLife is playing the part of a partner to help people create their own personal safety nets.”
I am NOT a spokesperson for MetLife; however, I think the insurance company’s new theme addresses a real concern in contemporary culture. In uncertain times, people seek some sort of security. We want shelter for the stormy times in life. When I saw the TV ad for the first time, I immediately said to myself, “Now, THAT will preach!” The thought turned into a series of sermons that I will be preaching in January and February.
“Weathering the Storms of Life” is the title of a new worship series at Sam Jones Memorial United Methodist Church. The six week series begins today and will continue through mid-February. Each week we will examine a different “storm of life.” The sermon titles are “Rainy Day Marriages,” “Raising Children, Raising Parents,” “Earthquake Weather,” “Sick and Tired,” and “Dying to Live.” The topics include marriage, raising children AND parents, disaster, health and disease, and life and death.
When we face the “storms of life,” what shelter does the Lord offer to God’s people? This question forces us to face some of the toughest questions of life. Are all dilemmas and disasters a part of God’s will? Does our faith protect us from harm? Or are trials and tribulations a way we grow in our faith? And what does it mean to say that “all things work to the good of those who trust in the Lord?”
You are invited to join us each Sunday as we wrestle with the dilemmas that each of us will eventually face in life. Sam Jones Memorial United Methodist Church offers two Traditional Worship Services at 8:30 a.m. and 11:00 a.m. in the historic sanctuary. The Celebration Service is a more informal, contemporary style of worship at 9:45 a.m. in the Family Life Center. There are also two sessions of Sunday School for all ages offered at 9:45 and 11:00. For more information, contact the church office at 770.382.4772 or visit our web site listed below.
The storms of life are not a question of “if” but “when. Join us as we seek God’s shelter from the storm.

"The Day After Christmas"
The Day After Christmas
By Dr. Bill Burch

‘Twas the day after Christmas and all were asleep
The twenty-fifth had left them all tired and beat.
The stockings were slung carelessly on the floor
Stripped of their contents and of interest no more.

The children were exhausted, collapsed in their beds,
With visions of sleeping in fixed in their heads.
And mama in her flannel and me with my mate,
Were in hopes that we too might get to sleep late.

When out in the front there arose such a racket
I sprang from my bed like a frightened jackrabbit.
I stubbed my big toe on the way to the door,
And set off the alarm system on the first floor.

The early sun’s light shone bright on the toys
Left in the front yard yesterday by my boys.
Then I saw a car splashing right through the muck,
A red, white and blue delivery truck.

My head was aching and my stomach felt ill,
As the postman delivered a hand full of bills!
The charges were listed in dollars and cents,
Payment would empty the United States’ mints.

Now, Visa! Now, Penney’s! Now, Macys and Riches!
On, Walmart! On, K-Mart! On Abercrombie and Fitch’s!
November and December we had a great ball,
Come January we owe something to all.

I made my way through a maze of presents piled high,
Looked again at the bills and gave a great sigh.
Turkey bones roosted on the dining room table,
Yesterday we ate all we were able.


I tried to turn on the new espresso maker,
Complete with a digital, alarm clock waker.
My family stumbled slowly down the stairs
As cordial as a den of hibernating bears.

I bent down to pet our faithful dog, Carl,
But he snapped at my fingers and let out a snarl.
My wife dressed quite quickly and shouted to all,
“I’m going bargain hunting all day at the mall!”

The children slammed the door behind them as well,
Going to friends’ homes for Christmas show and tell.
And I collapsed in my brand new easy chair,
To see how my favorite football teams would fare.

I held a glass of Alka-Seltzer firmly in my fist
Regretting last night’s snack I should have missed.
During halftime I arose from the recliner,
My team was ahead and the world seemed much finer.

Wading through the wrapping paper pilled knee high
Something on the mantle piece caught my eye.
Half hidden beneath discarded ribbons and bows:
The manger scene had been placed weeks ago.

Carefully clearing the bright paper away
I witnessed the reminder of that first Christmas day.
The Christ child rested in a bed simple and small
Sent by God into the world to save us all.

Nativity figures of that first silent night,
Made it quite clear what had been lost to sight.
“A Happy Christmas to all!” is because of God’s son,
On the day after, our Christmas has only begun.

"Mary the Mother of Jesus"

“Mary the Mother of Jesus”
by Dr. Bill Burch

When Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John wrote their gospels, they began with the end in mind. The cross and the empty tomb were the central elements of the story. Jesus’ words and deeds gained meaning from the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. The years before Christ began his public ministry received relatively little attention.
Only Matthew and Luke tell the stories of Christ’s birth. Matthew focuses upon Joseph. In his gospel, we hear about the star in the east, the visit of the wise men, and the flight to Egypt. Luke, on the other hand, focuses upon Mary. He alone tells about the angels' chorus and the shepherds' visit.
Tradition tells us that Mary was a young, peasant girl of modest means. Based upon the culture of her time, Mary was probably about fifteen years old when she married Joseph. Luke writes: "God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin's name was Mary." Gabriel greets Mary with the words, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you!"
Mary's reaction is natural. The New International Version says that "Mary was greatly troubled at his words." Actually, I think Luke was too diplomatic. A better translation might read: “Mary was scared senseless!” Gabriel senses this because his next words are, "Do not be afraid. You have found favor with God."
The evidence suggests that Mary did not find much comfort in the angel's reassurance. I would not suggest that Gabriel glossed over what this “favor” meant but neither did the angel go into much detail. Mary had every reason to be afraid.
In his book, “Peculiar Treasures,” Frederick Buechner writes about this encounter between Gabriel and Mary. He says: "Mary struck the angel Gabriel as hardly old enough to have a child at all, let alone this child, but he'd been entrusted with a message to give her, and he gave it. He told her what the child was to be named, and who he was to be, and something about the mystery that was to come upon her. 'You mustn't be afraid, Mary,' he said. As he said it, he only hoped she wouldn't notice that beneath the great, golden wings he himself was trembling with fear to think that the whole future of creation hung now on the answer of a girl."
Did you notice that the entire birth announcement is in the future tense? "You will be with child . . . he will be great . . . how will this be . . . the Holy Spirit will come upon you." Let me tentatively suggest that Mary could have said "No." And yet despite her fear and wonder, what marks Mary's life is her obedience. Without further reflection or question, she responds, "I am the Lord's servant. May it be to me as you have said."
Luke writes: "Then the angel left her." And as far as we know, Mary never received another supernatural visit. Certainly the future events of Jesus' birth would mark him as special, but she never received any more assurance of what happened that night. Yet she trusted God with her life. She stepped forward in a leap of belief, free falling in faith, knowing that God would catch her. All that Gabriel foretold did come to past; but the story unfolded because Mary was obedient in responding to God's call.
Chances are pretty good most of us will not entertain an angelic figure discussing fatherless obstetrics this Christmas. However, the Lord continues to call forth people who will be obedient to God’s will. May the Holy Spirit grant us the grace to echo Mary’s words: “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.”

"Saint Joseph"
“Saint Joseph”
By Dr. Bill Burch

Matthew’s gospel summaries the situation with one brief sentence: “Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph.” The one year period of betrothal would end in a week long wedding celebration. Although the couple still lived apart, the Jewish law considered Joseph and Mary to be husband and wife.
Matthew gives little information about that year together, but we can probably fill in the details. I have been involved in enough weddings to imagine the plans and preparations, the laughter and tears, the chaos and confusion, the in-laws and the outlaws. Whenever a couple says they want a “small wedding,” I just smile. They will be wrong about other things as well!
Men and women view weddings from totally different perspectives. The male of the species really doesn’t care if the gown’s train is chapel or cathedral length, the bridesmaids’ dresses pink or fuchsia, the cake three or four tiers, and the flowers fresh or silk. Brides and their mothers, however, put a great deal of stock in such details.
The best premarital advice I can give to a future groom is this: “Learn these two important words: ‘Yes, dear.’” Grooms play the role of Ken at Barbie’s wedding—an essential but secondary character. If a man’s fiancée ever really wants his opinion on something, he should simply respond: “Whatever YOU think, dear.” But the chances are good that she won’t ask!
Joseph must have been a good groom-to-be. How do I know this? He never said a word! Mark and John only mention him in passing. Luke speaks of him briefly. And even Matthew, who focuses upon Joseph's role in the Christmas story, never records a single word from Joseph. He said NOTHING. The perfect groom!
The truth is that we really don't know much about Joseph. According to tradition, he was older than Mary and perhaps a widower. We do know that he was a carpenter. In my mind, I imagine him as the strong and silent type, a skilled craftsman who commanded quiet respect. He appeared in the Christmas stories and once more when Jesus was twelve in Jerusalem. But then he was never mentioned again. He most likely died during Jesus' adolescence or young adulthood. We just don't know.
In most Manger Scenes, Joseph is a drab, featureless figure that is difficult to distinguish from the shepherds. The only distinction is that he normally holds a lantern or staff while the shepherds have crooks. In her book, Kneeling in Bethlehem, Ann Weems writes a poem about Joseph, asking:

Who put Joseph in the back of the stable?
Who dressed him in brown, put a staff in his hand,
and told him to stand in the back of the crèche,
background for the magnificent light of the Madonna?

Despite the lack of attention from the Gospel writers and the church, however, Joseph played an important role in God's plan. Although Joseph doesn’t talk, his actions of raising God’s child as his own speak loudly. Ann Weems concludes her poem by saying:

This Christmas, let us give thanks to God
for this man of incredible faith
into whose care God placed the Christ Child.
As a gesture of gratitude,
let's put Joseph in the front of the stable
where he can guard and greet
and cast an occasional glance
at this child who brought us Life.

During this Advent season, I encourage you to put Saint Joseph at the front of the manger and recall the role he played during the first Christmas.

"A Christmas Parable"
A Christmas Parable
By Dr. Bill Burch

The kingdom of God is like unto a man decorating his home for Christmas. The man—being a man—required close supervision for any endeavor combining the words “decorating” and “home.” Fortunately, the queen of the manor took great delight in such matters. She gladly volunteered to oversee his efforts.
Numerous pilgrimages were made to far off lands named “Attic” and “Closet.” He returned with boxes of Christmas past, trailing the exotic aromas of evergreen, cardboard, and dust. Stockings were hung by the chimney with care. Ceramic Santas shared the mantle with a nativity scene. Artificial wreaths with fresh bows garlanded the doors and windows.
Finally a coffin-sized box came thumpity, thump, thumping down the stairs. It contained the dismembered limbs of a fake fir. Working from the bottom up, the man painstakingly inserted each branch into its proper place. Soon an artificial, eight feet tall Christmas tree graced the room.
While his better half organized ornaments, the man attacked a mare’s nest of tangled lights. A series of exclamations not in keeping with the holiday season soon followed! He angrily slammed the lights on the floor, and several shattered into glass shrapnel. Grabbing car keys and wallet, he journeyed to a distant emporium and purchased ten new strings with one hundred lights each.
The man wrapped the one thousand light bulbs around the fir’s branches. Extension cords stretched to every available outlet. When he finally finished, the entire family gathered for the lighting of the great tree. “Oohs” and “ahhs” greeted the glorious advent.
The husband/father settled into an easy chair with a double shot of eggnog. His wife banished the children and spent three hours placing the ornaments just so on each limb. Then they all stood arm-in-arm surveying the golden glow of the Christmas tree.
That’s when he saw IT. One string at the tip-top of the tree was dark. One hundred lights were not burning! The man frantically checked and rechecked plugs and fuses. He finally had to admit the obvious: one bulb must be burnt out. His spouse chose this moment to ask if he had checked the lights before putting them on the tree. Seeing the look in his eye, she quickly retreated from the room.
Light by light, the man wearily checked each bulb. One, two, three . . . . Midnight came and went, but he remained faithful to his task. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine . . . . Of course it was the final bulb that proved to be the problem.
But, oh, what a wondrous sight when the string finally came to life! All the hard labor and heartbreak were forgotten. He stood basking in the warm, Christmas light. Then he awoke his wife and children and cried out, “Rejoice with me; I have found my burnt out light!” The family celebrated with a bottle of eggnog and a plate of Christmas cookies.
I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents of the darkness than over ninety-nine righteous persons who already live in the light. (Luke 15: 1-7)

A Christmas Parable
By Dr. Bill Burch

The kingdom of God is like unto a man decorating his home for Christmas. The man—being a man—required close supervision for any endeavor combining the words “decorating” and “home.” Fortunately, the queen of the manor took great delight in such matters. She gladly volunteered to oversee his efforts.
Numerous pilgrimages were made to far off lands named “Attic” and “Closet.” He returned with boxes of Christmas past, trailing the exotic aromas of evergreen, cardboard, and dust. Stockings were hung by the chimney with care. Ceramic Santas shared the mantle with a nativity scene. Artificial wreaths with fresh bows garlanded the doors and windows.
Finally a coffin-sized box came thumpity, thump, thumping down the stairs. It contained the dismembered limbs of a fake fir. Working from the bottom up, the man painstakingly inserted each branch into its proper place. Soon an artificial, eight feet tall Christmas tree graced the room.
While his better half organized ornaments, the man attacked a mare’s nest of tangled lights. A series of exclamations not in keeping with the holiday season soon followed! He angrily slammed the lights on the floor, and several shattered into glass shrapnel. Grabbing car keys and wallet, he journeyed to a distant emporium and purchased ten new strings with one hundred lights each.
The man wrapped the one thousand light bulbs around the fir’s branches. Extension cords stretched to every available outlet. When he finally finished, the entire family gathered for the lighting of the great tree. “Oohs” and “ahhs” greeted the glorious advent.
The husband/father settled into an easy chair with a double shot of eggnog. His wife banished the children and spent three hours placing the ornaments just so on each limb. Then they all stood arm-in-arm surveying the golden glow of the Christmas tree.
That’s when he saw IT. One string at the tip-top of the tree was dark. One hundred lights were not burning! The man frantically checked and rechecked plugs and fuses. He finally had to admit the obvious: one bulb must be burnt out. His spouse chose this moment to ask if he had checked the lights before putting them on the tree. Seeing the look in his eye, she quickly retreated from the room.
Light by light, the man wearily checked each bulb. One, two, three . . . . Midnight came and went, but he remained faithful to his task. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine . . . . Of course it was the final bulb that proved to be the problem.
But, oh, what a wondrous sight when the string finally came to life! All the hard labor and heartbreak were forgotten. He stood basking in the warm, Christmas light. Then he awoke his wife and children and cried out, “Rejoice with me; I have found my burnt out light!” The family celebrated with a bottle of eggnog and a plate of Christmas cookies.
I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents of the darkness than over ninety-nine righteous persons who already live in the light. (Luke 15: 1-7)

"Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer"
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer
By Dr. Bill Burch

You've heard of Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen; Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen. But do you recall, the most famous reindeer of all?
Of course, I'm talking about Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. In 1949, Johnny Marks wrote a holiday song about a reindeer with a luminous nose. Gene Autry recorded the tune, and it instantly became a Christmas classic. Later NBC transformed the song into an animated TV show. General Electric sponsored the first broadcast of the “animagic” special on December 6, 1964. Burl Ives provided the voice of the snowman narrating the adventures of Rudolph and his friends.
The plot is quite familiar. Rudolph was born with a very shiny nose. You might even say it glowed. The other reindeer used to laugh and call him names. He never got to join in any reindeer games. But then one foggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say: "Rudolph with your nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"
THEN how the reindeer loved him! They shouted out with glee: "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, you'll go down in history!" It’s a great story with a catchy tune and a happy ending. No wonder it is everyone's favorite.
Decades later, however, Rudolph may no longer be appropriate for our inclusive society. In a past holiday edition of “Signals,” the catalog offered a humorous instruction manual on how to celebrate a “politically correct” holiday season. And note I said “holiday”—the word neatly dodges references to Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, Winter Solstice, or any other December celebrations out there.
The catalog featured a Santa Claus who had given up his pipe and allowed the elves to unionize. And of course, Saint Nic would never bring presents made of fur or leather. Frosty the Snow Man was now Frosty the Person of Snow. And Rudolph? He had become Rudolph the nasally empowered Reindeer!
I know Gene Autry's song is a whimsical story about an ugly duckling—okay, reindeer—that grew up to be a beautiful swan—alright, red nosed flying reindeer. But maybe there is a deeper truth for a Christmas and Easter people. Transformation and change are at the heart of the Christmas story. Into a world of darkness, God sent the light of the world. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it. One of the titles given to the Christ child was “Emmanuel” which means “God with us.” As one church father said, “God became what we are so that we might become what God is.”
During this holiest of seasons, I hope that you do not enjoy a politically correct “Happy holidays.” Instead, I pray that God’s light will shine in your life. In turn, may the Lord grant us the grace to shine as God’s light in a darkened world. May the Christ of Christmas transform our lives now and forever more. Happy Holy Days!

"Y'all Come"
“Y’all Come”
By Dr. Bill Burch

During the eighteenth century, a border dispute arose between the American colonies of Maryland and Pennsylvania. Both claimed that their royal charters included the lands between the 39th and 40th parallels. The quarrel continued for years with vitriolic rhetoric and occasional violence. The English crown finally intervened, settling the dispute in 1760. As part of the agreement, the colonies hired two surveyors named Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon to establish a common borderline.
Mason and Dixon began their work south of Philadelphia. Their survey extended west from the Delaware River and eventually defined the partial borders of four future states: Maryland, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and West Virginia. In later years, “the Mason-Dixon Line” also came to symbolize the cultural divide between the northern and southern states.
Each region of our nation boasts its own unique character and charm. Please understand that I mean no disrespect to the good folk of New England, the Midwest, the Southwest, the Pacific Northwest, or even the Left Coast. I understand that people cannot help where they are born; however, I am a native Southerner who was born and bred in Georgia. I confess to an unabashed bias when it comes to our region. The tremendous population growth in our fair state confirms that others agree with my assessment. A number of Yankees and other foreigners have recently moved into our land. For those not blessed to have been born below the Mason-Dixon Line, Southern culture and speech can be difficult to decipher.
To misquote a line from a Jimmy Buffet song, you cannot pronounce your “r’s” and “g’s” when speaking Southernese. Our lazy speech patterns tend to drop the last letters and even entire syllables from word endings. Sentences often begin with an endearing title of “Darling,” “Sweetheart,” and “Sugar.” Conversations are peppered with interjections and interrogatives such as “Do tell,” “You don’t say,” “My, my,” “That dog won’t hunt,” “Aren’t you the sweetest thing,” and the ever popular “How’s your mama?”
Perhaps the most perplexing word in the Southern lexicon is “y’all.” People new to the region do not always understand how to properly use this prolific pronoun. “Y’all” is a creative contraction of the words “you all.” Sometimes the phrase is spelled “ya’ll” or “yawl.” Other areas have equivalent expressions such as “you’uns,” “you guys,” and “youse guys.”
In theory, “y’all” is a pronoun of the second person plural persuasion; however, true natives will also use it in the singular form. So “y’all” could refer to one person or a host of people. When wanting to use the form in an unmistakably plural form, then one should say “ALL y’all.” Granted, this phrase would literally be “all you all,” but Southerners don’t worry about repetitious redundancy.
A popular statement in the South is “Y’all come.” This statement by a host or hostess means that family, friends, and acquaintances are always welcome. It is the quintessential expression of Southern graciousness and hospitality—and the invitation is even extended to those who don’t know what “y’all” really means!

"Will the Circle Be Unbroken?"

“Will the Circle Be Unbroken?”
By Dr. Bill Burch

The advent of the holiday season evokes warm memories of Thanksgivings and Christmases past. Each year our extended family planned a big reunion during the holidays. Distant relatives gathered at a designated home for the “Three Fs” of food, fellowship, and football. The women worked in the kitchen, the men watched T.V. in the den, and the children ran wild around the house.
My Aunts Lois, Bera, or Hazel normally hosted the events. Since both of my parents were only children, the ladies in question were not technically my aunts. I THINK they might have been my great-aunts . . . or first cousins on my mother’s side . . . once removed . . . maybe! I must confess that I have never understood all that genealogy stuff. In the South, however, it is perfectly permissible to call any older relative “uncle” or “aunt.”
When dinner time finally arrived, we held hands around the dining room. Until he went to that great covered dish dinner in the sky, Uncle Charlie traditionally asked the blessing. The pious Methodist’s prayer could have served as a sermon in most churches. When he finally said “Amen,” a feast fit for the far side of the Pearly Gates began. We circled the table, filling our plates with ham, turkey, roast, vegetables, casseroles, salads, and quivering Jell-O salads filled with fruit and topped with marshmallows or whipped cream.
The years and decades have swiftly passed. Our extended family now only gets together at weddings and funerals. My “aunts” and “uncles” have all passed away. If heaven is anything like earth, then the womenfolk are cooking up something in the kitchen while the men watch highlight reels of Dallas versus Green Bay football games. I still recall my childhood companions who sat with me at the children’s table as giggling girls whom I adored. However, my sister, Margaret, died of cancer in 1992. Our cousin, Peggy, lives in England with her British husband.
When my family gathers around the Thanksgiving table this week, we will not be alone. Memories of past holidays and passed loved ones will fill the room. We will join hands around the table and ask God’s blessings upon our time together. Yet each of us will also recognize that we are part of a larger circle that time and distance can never break.
There is an old Gospel song that recognizes the pain of earthly separation and the hope of heavenly reunion. The words declare:

Will the circle be unbroken
By and by, Lord, by and by
There’s a better home a-waiting
In the sky, lord, in the sky.

The Bible promises that some day God’s people will gather at a great feast, reunited with those we love. Our family reunions are harbingers, our earthly feasts are foretastes, and our present joys are echoes of what we will experience in heaven’s kingdom. From an earthly perspective, the circle may appear to be broken; however, it remains intact both now and through out all eternity.

"Veterans Day"
“Veterans Day”
By Dr. Bill Burch

The survivors are in their seventies and older. Over a thousand die each day. They are siblings, spouses, parents, grandparents, family members, friends and acquaintances. Seemingly ordinary people, yet they accomplished extraordinary things. “The Greatest Generation” learned to number World Wars and defended the cause of freedom around the globe.
Several years ago our community hosted an event entitled “They Answered the Call.” World War II veterans shared stories of their experiences in the Pacific and European theaters of operation. The stories were powerful and provocative. A Marine joined a makeshift platoon firing rifles at Zero fighters during the Pearl Harbor attack. One bomber crewmember bailed out over Berlin. A bow gunner on a Sherman tank fought Tiger tanks in Normandy. An Army veteran was in an advance unit that liberated the Dachau concentration camp. A prisoner of war in Japan survived capture and months of solitary confinement. A young lieutenant piloted a LST at Iwo Jima. A B-17 pilot miraculously completed thirty-five combat missions over Europe.
Seventeen different stories were told from seventeen different perspectives of the war. Yet all contained the same themes of sacrifice and commitment. None of the men participating in the seminar would have claimed the title, but each was an American hero.
Today men and women continue to serve in our nation’s armed forces at home and abroad. They carry on the proud traditions of the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, and Coast Guard. I think it is also important to recognize the families of our service personnel. They too pay a high price for our country. Parents, spouses, and children keep the home fires burning while their sons, daughters, husbands, wives, fathers, and mothers serve their country.
Following September 11, 2001, our nation experienced an upsurge of patriotic fervor. The vast majority of Americans overwhelmingly supported some sort of military action immediately. Six years later there is vociferous debate over past decisions, present policies, and future actions. Unlike many pontificating politicians, I do not claim to have THE answers for how our nation should proceed.
However, I do know that the world has forever changed. The front line now runs through our major cities, hometowns, and families. In this brave new world, the same terrorist groups who flew civilian airplanes into the World Trade Center are constantly planning new atrocities. Vigilance is the high price of freedom, and our armed forces personnel pay with the coin of their lives.
Our nation also remembers a hard-won lesson from the Viet Nam conflict. It is possible to have differing opinions about a military operation but still support the troops who are involved. Regardless of personal opinions about the political decisions that put our military personnel in harm’s way, we can support these individuals and their families with our prayers and appreciation.
This Sunday, November 11, is “Veterans Day” in our nation—a time when our country honors those who put service above self. Jesus said that there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for another. Today we recognize our veterans and their families who lay down their lives in countless ways each day for their nation.

"Making Memories"
Making Memories
By Dr. Bill Burch

When my children first started school, we lived in West Point, Georgia. Each Friday I would pick them up after classes and hear all about their day. One afternoon we stopped at the local Sonic fast food restaurant to celebrate some academic achievement. We all enjoyed our desserts and then continued back to the house.
The next Friday I picked up the kids and headed home. When I reached THE critical intersection, my eldest asked, “Daddy, why are you turning left?”
Father knowing best, I patiently replied, “Because our house is to the left.”
“Yes, but Sonic is to the right!”
I agreed with this logic but could see no relevance to the fact. Then my youngest chimed in, “Yeah, and today is FRIDAY. We ALWAYS go to Sonic on Friday.”
To the best of my recollection, we had only gone to the drive-through the past Friday. The singular occurrence, however, apparently had no bearing upon the matter. Drawing upon her growing vocabulary, my daughter proclaimed: “It’s a FAMILY TRADITION!”
Far be it from ME to argue with a long-standing, family tradition! For a number of Fridays thereafter, we stopped at Sonic for a father/daughter/son fiesta. One child habitually ordered a grape slushie while the other liked ice cream. I preferred a hot fudge Sundae with onion rings on the side. Not a common combination, I’ll grant you, but don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.
What seemed like a little thing to me was a big deal to my children. One Friday afternoon’s excursion quickly became a sacred tradition. A decade later they still talk about our weekly trips to Sonic in West Point.
Parenthood is an overwhelming responsibility. It is a full time occupation that requires twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. The simple logistics of feeding, clothing, educating, and caring for a child are overwhelming. By the time children are tucked into bed, parents are all tuckered out.
It is certainly important to make lunches, provide transportation, check homework, run baths, and attend ballgames. In the chaos of daily life, we tend to focus upon such immediate and demanding tasks. However, parenthood involves much more than just the care and feeding of children. Mothers and fathers have the awesome responsibility and privilege of raising children in the ways they should go.
“Making memories” with our children is one vital way we shape and influence their lives. A child’s future is shaped by his or her present and past. Important moments do not always require a lot of time and energy. What seems to be trivial to an adult can be critical to a child.
Parents with children of all ages have the opportunity to make memories and begin traditions. Magical moments might include: holiday customs, seasonal trips, regular dates, bedtime prayers, weekend movies, board games, shared books, and so much more. Years later a child will recall these moments with love and appreciation.
Next Friday you might even want to share a hot fudge Sundae, grape slushie, and some onion rings with your child. Try it—I think you will like it!

"Downtown Churches Banned"

“Downtown Churches Banned”
By Dr. Bill Burch

A recent city ordinance prohibits churches from operating in the downtown area of Jefferson, Georgia. Mayor Jim Joiner cast the deciding ballot after a 2-2 tie vote in the city council. The amendment to the municipal zoning code bans churches, mosques, temples, and synagogues from the town’s “Central Business District.” The eight-block, downtown area features historic businesses and storefront shops.
Jefferson is not located in a region traditionally known for banning churches such as North Korea, Communist China, or a former Soviet republic. Instead, the northwest Georgia town can be found between Gainesville and Athens on Highway 129 in Jackson County. Located on the Interstate 85 corridor north of Gwinnet County, the rural community has grown significantly in recent years. The population boom has inspired city planners to promote a $600,000 improvement project to revitalize downtown Jefferson.
Forward thinking members of the city council fear that a downtown church might prevent new restaurants from opening on the town square. Many eateries depend upon alcohol sales to increase their profit margin. Most city ordinances, however, require a “buffer” zone of one hundred feet or more between churches and businesses selling alcohol. These requirements safeguard children and youth attending religious activities. However, the mayor and council apparently prefer to protect the rights of prospective barkeeps and their liquor sales along with the attendant tax revenues.
City Manager, John Ward, also points out that parking spaces are limited in the “Central Business Zone.” Churches have the annoying habit of meeting far more often than on Sunday mornings at 11:00. A proliferation of new ministries might bring parishioners to town throughout the week. They could even—GASP—drive to town during business hours! Since downtown Jefferson has on-street parking only, church activities would prevent tax-generating customers from frequenting downtown merchants.
The city council ascribes to churches the same nuisance value normally reserved for tattoo parlors, adult bookstores, and junkyards. No responsible city planner would want a Methodist Church or a toxic landfill in the community. Let one congregation open and there goes the neighborhood! Churches waste land and parking spaces better reserved for antique shops, fashion boutiques, local pubs, and trendy restaurants.
To be equitable and fair, I am confident that the members of the Jefferson city council are upstanding citizens who only want the best for their community. The chances are good that the majority claim some sort of religious affiliation. No doubt they rationalized their actions, weighing the pros and cons of the decision. In step with the secular spirit of our society, the mayor and company decided to give preference to economic considerations rather than spiritual concerns.
In the process, however, the council forgot a critical point. If downtown is the heart of a community, then the churches are its collective soul. Jesus once asked, “What does it profit a person to gain the whole world but lose his or her soul?” I imagine that the same question can be asked not only of individuals but also of communities.

'It's Scary to be Hungry"
“It’s Scary to be Hungry”
By Dr. Bill Burch

On All Hallowed Eve, children and youth don costumes to masquerade as their favorite characters. Jack o’ lanterns cast a sallow glow on darkened paths. Cries of “Trick or Treat” echo in the night. Little ghoulies and ghosties shod in tennis shoes accost passersby with boos of fright and hoots of delight.
Halloween chills and thrills are the products of overactive imaginations. However, there are some things in life that are truly frightening. It is scary to be hungry. It is scary to check the pantry and find nothing. It is scary to look into your children’s eyes and see want. It is scary to look into the future and find no hope.
Bartow County is not a third world country, but hunger exists in our community. Some of our fellow citizens lack life’s barest necessities. Sometimes it is through no fault of an individual. Other times, people have made poor decisions in the past that have led them to their present situation. Inevitably children pay the price for their parents’ bankrupt lives. Regardless of cause or circumstance, the need remains the same.
It is scary to be hungry. However, this Halloween our community can do something about it. Sam Jones Memorial United Methodist Church is sponsoring a food drive to help feed our neighbors in need. The mission is far larger than any one congregation, and success is dependent upon the entire community.
Over the weekend, church volunteers have distributed grocery bags and instruction sheets to homes in selected neighborhoods. Families are invited to fill the bags with non-perishable food. Next Saturday, October 27, volunteers will go door-to-door collecting the bags of food. Participants are asked to put the bags on the front porch by 10:00 on Saturday morning. You can also drop off donations at the Sam Jones Memorial United Methodist Church Family Life Center between 11:00 and 1:00.
Non-perishable foods include canned goods, peanut butter, jelly, canned meat (tuna, beef, sardines, etc.), macaroni and cheese, dried beans, rice, or pasta, boxes of cereal, coffee, and much more. The food will be sorted into various types of food and placed into boxes. On Monday morning, the boxes will be delivered to area food shelters for distribution over the next weeks and months.
Bartow County does not have the same zip code or per capita income as Beverly Hills, Palm Beach, or Amelia Island. However, most of us have more than enough resources to help others. No one can do everything, but this is never an excuse to do nothing. There is no reason why anyone in our community should go hungry. A low impact investment of time and money can have a high impact upon another person’s life. I invite you to join us in the food drive this Saturday.
It IS scary to be hungry. Let us help others not to be afraid.

"Drive - In Memories"
Drive-In Memories
By Dr. Bill Burch

My daughter and son enjoy quizzing their ancient father about the “good old days.” Although my childhood spanned the decade of the 1960s, they believe I grew up in an era when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. My children listen wide-eyed to fantastical tales about black and white TVs, morning milk deliveries, one-bathroom homes, and ten-cent bottles of Coca-Cola. However, they simply refuse to believe in an age without computers, VCRs, DVDs or satellite TVs.
I stretched my credibility to the breaking point the day that I told them about drive-in movies. They shook their heads in astonishment at such a concept. Watching movies OUTSIDE in a CAR? “Why didn’t you just go down to Blockbuster and rent a DVD?” one child asked incredulously.
I could never convince them that drive-in movies were high-tech way back when. Yet I have wonderful memories of those obsolete institutions. On Saturday nights, my parents would bundle my sister and me into the backseat of our 1963 Ford Fairlane station wagon. The backseats folded flat so the space could accommodate two children, blankets, and pillows.
We liked to frequent the Glenwood Drive-In near Decatur, Georgia. After dimming the headlights, my dad would cruise the rows in search of the perfect parking place with an intact speaker. The sloped banks gave us an unobstructed view through a dirty windshield of the movie screen fifty yards away. My sister and I would play on the swing set by the big screen until the movies started at dusk.
Drive-in theaters always showed double features with a “G” rated movie generally first. From the backseat of our Fairlane, I saw everything from Disney to James Bond. During intermission, enticing advertisements for food and drink played continuously on the screen. Everyone made a trip to the concession stand and the bathrooms around back. Regardless of what snacks my mother brought, nothing tasted nearly as good as fresh popped popcorn and cold soda drinks for ten times their normal price.
Midway through the second movie, my sister and I usually fell fast asleep. Sometimes I would awake when my father cranked the engine to leave. The station wagon rolled over the drive-in’s sloping hills like an amphibious assault vehicle storming the beaches of Normandy. Inevitably, one or two cars drove off with a forgotten speaker, trailing a severed wire still attached to the window frame.
We would arrive home after midnight. Even if I was still awake, I played ‘possum by closing my eyes and feigning sleep. This ensured my father would carry me into the house and tuck me into bed. Then I would drift into the worry-free slumber of childhood.
Later in life I was introduced to the theological notion of providence—God’s gracious care for his people. I immediately remembered those summer nights at the drive-in movie and arriving home late in the darkness. God is our heavenly Father who cares for his children all the days of our lives. Then at the end of the day, he gently cradles us in loving arms and carries us across the threshold into our eternal home.

"The Church's One Foundation"
“The Church’s One Foundation
By Dr. Bill Burch

If you travel north of Gainesville, Georgia on Clarks Bridge Road, Dewberry Baptist Church is located near the communities of Lula and Clermont. The small, rural congregation was founded in 1821 when the first English settlers moved into north Georgia. Going south and turning left on Highway 129 towards Gainesville, you will see another white clapboard church topped with a steeple. The sign out front identifies the site as the home of Dewberry Baptist Church NUMBER TWO. Herein is found a story!
Once upon a time there was no need to number the Dewberry churches in Hall County. Then in 1848, a traumatic event divided the church. Different legends account for the split, but here is my personal favorite.
During a church-wide covered dish dinner, two deacons got into a heated discussion about predestination. The more Calvinistic of the two declared that God had predetermined everything that happened in the world. He picked up the last chicken leg on the platter and declared, “I believe everything in life has been foreordained by God. Why, this here hen was born, raised, and fried so that I might enjoy a chicken leg today!”
The other deacon cried out, “You couldn’t be more wrong!” Then he snatched the drumstick out of his opponent’s hand and took a big bite. “See!” he declared with relish. “You weren’t predestined to eat this chicken after all!”
The theological nuances of the argument were lost on the brother now bereft of his chicken leg. He began smiting his fellow deacon mightily about the head and shoulders. Members who attempted to break up the fight soon joined in the fracas. Meanwhile a lurking dog grabbed the chicken leg and devoured it.
The incident caused the church to multiply by dividing. Dewberry Baptist Church Number Two was established down the road. The congregation professed a strong belief in predestination and the sanctity of chicken legs!
I cannot attest to the factuality of the legend; however, you should never let the truth get in the way of a good story. The essence of the story resonates with anyone who has ever attended church. Naïve newcomers expect the church to be heaven on earth—a place where human differences are forgotten in divine love. At its very best, the church is just that: the body of Jesus Christ incarnate in this world.
Yet the church is also an institution composed of human members. Sometimes we are all too human. We major on the minors and allow petty differences to divide us. The result is the need for a Dewberry Church Number One and Number Two. Human nature being what it is, there may be a Dewberry Church Number THREE in the future!
Today is World Communion Sunday when Christians around the world gather around the Lord’s Table. We celebrate our fellowship with Christ and one another. Since all of God’s people will spend eternity together, we might want to start getting along here on earth. What unites us is so much greater than whatever divides us. The apostle Paul wrote there is one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one birth.
Not two!

"Always Under Construction"

“Always Under Construction”
By Dr. Bill Burch

The church I serve is in the midst of a renovation project. The 1960 Education Building has been completely refurbished with classrooms, a music suite, chapel, and offices. The general contractor is now renovating the three-story building where the Sanctuary is located. If everything goes according to plan—and it seldom does—we should complete the project by Christmas.
When I first entered the ministry, I thought it would be a rewarding experience to oversee a construction project in the local church. Surely it would feel quite fulfilling to build a structure that others would use for decades. I have learned the hard way that you should be careful what you pray for! God has answered my prayers with multifold blessings—and I’ve been blessed just about as much as I can stand.
I served the First United Methodist Church of West Point from 1995 to 2000. During this time, the congregation built a new Family Life Center. Then the members completely renovated the old Education Building and Sanctuary. We had literally spent one Sunday in the refurbished buildings when I moved to Cartersville.
To quote Yogi Berra, it felt like déjà vu all over again. Sam Jones Memorial United Methodist Church was in the midst of making plans for a Family Life Center. We completed the 32,000 square foot project 2003. Then we began a renovation project of the existing facilities at the beginning of this year. So in the past decade, I have been participated in four capital stewardship campaigns, the construction of two Family Life Centers, the renovation of two Education Buildings, and the restoration of two Sanctuaries.
The process has not burnt me out, but I definitely carry a few singe marks on various parts of my psyche and physique. I have learned many valuable lessons along the way. Some time back a friend in the ministry was serving a church considering new construction. He asked me to speak to his leadership group to share what wisdom I had gained. I felt quite complimented until he told me the title of the address: “What NOT to do in church construction!”
During the construction projects at the Cartersville High School, a sign out front declared “Always under Construction.” The pastor in me marked this as a good phrase for a future church sign. After all, God’s church is always under construction. In church architecture, the exteriors of some sanctuaries are built with two towers at the front. One of the towers is traditionally taller than the other. The architecture bears mute testimony that the church is never completed and constantly growing.
The same sign could be placed upon each individual believer’s life. Our relationship with God is a continuing construction project that is not finished on this side of the grave. The Lord is renovating our lives so that we can become mature men and women of God. In Peter’s first letter to the church, he compared Christians to a holy temple. He wrote: “You also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house . . . .”
Anyone who has survived a construction project knows that it is full of hard labor, unexpected challenges, and continuous surprises. Yet the end result makes all of the hard work worthwhile. We are God’s building project, and we are always under construction.

"The Church's One Foundation"
“The Church’s One Foundation
By Dr. Bill Burch

If you travel north of Gainesville, Georgia on Clarks Bridge Road, Dewberry Baptist Church is located near the communities of Lula and Clermont. The small, rural congregation was founded in 1821 when the first English settlers moved into north Georgia. Going south and turning left on Highway 129 towards Gainesville, you will see another white clapboard church topped with a steeple. The sign out front identifies the site as the home of Dewberry Baptist Church NUMBER TWO. Herein is found a story!
Once upon a time there was no need to number the Dewberry churches in Hall County. Then in 1848, a traumatic event divided the church. Different legends account for the split, but here is my personal favorite.
During a church-wide covered dish dinner, two deacons got into a heated discussion about predestination. The more Calvinistic of the two declared that God had predetermined everything that happened in the world. He picked up the last chicken leg on the platter and declared, “I believe everything in life has been foreordained by God. Why, this here hen was born, raised, and fried so that I might enjoy a chicken leg today!”
The other deacon cried out, “You couldn’t be more wrong!” Then he snatched the drumstick out of his opponent’s hand and took a big bite. “See!” he declared with relish. “You weren’t predestined to eat this chicken after all!”
The theological nuances of the argument were lost on the brother now bereft of his chicken leg. He began smiting his fellow deacon mightily about the head and shoulders. Members who attempted to break up the fight soon joined in the fracas. Meanwhile a lurking dog grabbed the chicken leg and devoured it.
The incident caused the church to multiply by dividing. Dewberry Baptist Church Number Two was established down the road. The congregation professed a strong belief in predestination and the sanctity of chicken legs!
I cannot attest to the factuality of the legend; however, you should never let the truth get in the way of a good story. The essence of the story resonates with anyone who has ever attended church. Naïve newcomers expect the church to be heaven on earth—a place where human differences are forgotten in divine love. At its very best, the church is just that: the body of Jesus Christ incarnate in this world.
Yet the church is also an institution composed of human members. Sometimes we are all too human. We major on the minors and allow petty differences to divide us. The result is the need for a Dewberry Church Number One and Number Two. Human nature being what it is, there may be a Dewberry Church Number THREE in the future!
Today is World Communion Sunday when Christians around the world gather around the Lord’s Table. We celebrate our fellowship with Christ and one another. Since all of God’s people will spend eternity together, we might want to start getting along here on earth. What unites us is so much greater than whatever divides us. The apostle Paul wrote there is one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one birth.
Not two!

"Come Sunday"
Come Sunday
By Dr. Bill Burch

My Sunday Schedule differs from most. In one of life’s many ironies, ministers observe the Sabbath by working. I arise at five o’clock and arrive at the church a bit after six. Before the Sunday morning madness begins, I appreciate some quiet time to practice my sermon and prepare for the day. My most inspiring homilies have often been delivered to empty pews.
Driving through the darkness, I am seldom alone. Other intrepid souls travel the highways and byways of our community. All night gas stations and diners enjoy a steady business. Early-risers sip coffee in lighted kitchens or watch TV in darkened dens.
I often wonder what urgent need drives people to arise before sunrise on a Sabbath. Most observe the morning by sleeping late—a practice that I occasionally envy. Half-awake, I imagine a dozen different scenarios that account for my fellow insomniacs. A man greets the morning with a steady rhythm of “thumps” echoing from driveways as he delivers the morning news. One waitress wearily sheds her apron after a late night stint while another takes her place behind the counter. Overtime entices a factory worker to endure the graveyard shift. A young mother rocks her newborn back to sleep on a front porch swing. The elderly lay awake in bed, awaiting the morning sun. A hunter clad in camo drives a pickup truck into the woods.
I feel a passing camaraderie with my predawn companions. Like strangers in an Intensive Care Unit, a common experience binds us briefly together. Our paths may never cross again, but we have experienced a shared reality. While most of the world sleeps, we slog through the morning—awake if not alert.
During my childhood, my Sunday morning plans were never in doubt. My family went to church—PERIOD. I don’t’ recollect ever participating in a vote on the matter. I do recall one Sunday when I decided to sleep-in late and let my parents go without me. Although they deny the incident ever occurred, I still have vivid memories of my father carrying me to the car where I traveled to the church in my pajamas. Only frantic pleas to return home for a change of clothes kept me from attending Sunday School in my PJs. The episode deeply scarred my psyche, and I still have recurring dreams of standing behind the pulpit without benefit of clothing!
In my teenage years, I eagerly attended worship services and youth activities. I would like to attribute my regular attendance to a precocious appreciation of all things liturgical, theological, and homiletical. In reality, I went to see my friends along with several attractive sisters in Christ who had caught my eye.
When God called me to the pastoral ministry, I discovered that all of my Sundays were now taken. My profession and profession of faith require my presence every Sabbath at church. So I have lived in a rather insular world, and I sometimes assume that weekly worship is an integral part of everyone’s lives. Yet I know this isn’t true.
Bartow County boasts more churches than banks—and THAT’S saying something. Yet the majority of our citizens do not attend worship. According to national statistics, an average congregation can expect about one-third of its MEMBERSHIP to be present at church on any given Sunday. I don’t know if these figures say something about irrelevant churches or a secular society; but I suspect the answer is a bit of both.
Come Sunday morning I will arrive at church bright and early. I have discovered something precious in a community of faith that the world cannot replicate. I grieve over the possibility that the church has not done a better job of communicating God’s eternal truths to a worldly culture. And I also wonder and worry about those souls that I pass in the early Sunday darkness.

"Oscar The Cat"
“Oscar the Cat”
By Dr. Bill Burch

Oscar the Cat is the harbinger of death at a nursing home in Providence, Rhode Island. The institution’s pet has accurately predicted patients’ deaths in over twenty-five recorded cases. The feline phenomenon was featured in an Associated Press article this past July. The story has captured the attention and imagination of the nation.
The Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center adopted Oscar when he was a kitten. The gray and white cat grew up in the dementia unit located on the third floor of the institution. The medical personnel noticed that Oscar made regular visits to all of the patients. If the haughty cat deigned to stop in a particular room, the resident typically died within a few hours.
Dr. David Dosa published an essay about the cat in a recent issue of “The New England Journal of Medicine.” He documented over twenty-five occasions when the cat accurately predicted the imminent death of a patient. The nursing staff has learned to call family members immediately if Oscar curls up beside a resident.
No one knows how the feline predicts the future. Perhaps his heightened sense of smell detects clues that humans cannot perceive. Others have theorized that he reacts to the behavior of the medical staff. Regardless of the reasons, the cat intuitively senses the impending approach of death.
The other question is why the cat chooses to remain with selected patients during their final hours. It is tempting to ascribe human motivations to the feline’s actions. He certainly seems to offer a comforting presence to those who are dying; but does the cat really understand what he is doing? Regardless of how and why, Oscar has become an integral part of the hospice staff.
When I first read the article, my admittedly bizarre sense of humor took over. I imagined the panic in the halls as the cat padded his way down the corridors. I could just hear the echo of doors slamming shut in the feline’s face. My initial reaction was, “Why don’t they just kill the blessed cat? THEN no one would die!”
(Please note: this is a JOKE. Do not write the newspaper editor. I do not need protesters from PETA or the Humane Society picketing outside my office. I LIKE cats; in fact, three of the fur-faces reside at my house. I assure you that no animals were harmed during the writing of this column.)
Despite my quirky sense of all things funny, I still find Oscar’s actions intriguing; and apparently the mouser is not alone in the pet world. Others have shared anecdotal stories about pets’ behavior around terminal patients. A friend describes how his ebullient puppy sedately sat beside his mother-in-law’s bed during her final hours. Perhaps animals know things to which humans are not privy.
Cecil Frances Alexander published a hymn in 1848. The refrain declares: “All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful: the Lord God made them all.” Perhaps it is not such a stretch of the imagination to believe that the hospice cat is about the work of his Creator. His furry presence reminds patients and families alike that they are not alone during death and grief. God’s incarnate love is experienced in a variety of ways: cards, calls, flowers, hugs, prayers . . . and Oscar the Cat.

"Six Years Later"
Six Years Later”
By Dr. Bill Burch

The horrific images of September 11, 2001 are forever seared into our collective conscious. Kamikaze planes, billowing smoke, imploding buildings, panicked crowds, and broken bodies overwhelmed our souls. To borrow a phrase from a famous speech by President Roosevelt, 9-11 was a “day of infamy” that changed the landscape of our country forever.
In the aftermath of the terrorist attack, the United States appeared to experience a religious reawakening. The catastrophe literally brought America to its knees in prayer. We did not engage in ACLU approved, politically correct “moments of silence” or “personal meditation.”