Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
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I seem to be having a hard time catching the calendar’s train this year. I caught myself almost writing the wrong year on a check a few days ago. Then I almost wrote the wrong month. All of that is early January stuff, not errors I expect to be making in November. It could be my age, of course. A clue is that I still occasionally write checks. Thanksgiving is upon us, and it has almost caught me by surprise. It’s no surprise, I’m afraid, that as we grow older, the calen...
One of the most unsatisfying (at least, to me) sermons I have ever preached was delivered during one of the highest points of my life. I was preaching at a church in Mbale, Uganda. If it was a weak sermon, it wasn’t because I hadn’t worked hard in its preparation. I knew it would be an opportunity to preach to brothers and sisters I’d probably never get to share the Word with again. It was a blessed and humbling experience. I was a rich, spoiled American, and they did me th...
The picture is a little fuzzy. It was an action shot and so seriously zoomed in that it’s probably amazing that it’s as clear as it is. But it’s plenty clear enough, and I smile every time I look at it. My next-to-the-youngest grandchild, a precocious little 8-year-old—and, of course, an amazing little beauty in every way—is in mortal combat with another little girl as they’re sliding around on the floor of a basketball court. The ref will soon blow his whistle and signal...
I wish I knew more about the scene. The Gospel of Luke, Chapter 12, begins with Jesus teaching a crowd, a very large crowd. He teaches like no one else, warning them about hypocritical religious teachers, assuring them that God loves his children completely and knows them down to the very hairs on their heads. When will the Holy Spirit of God ever leave them? Never! Was it right in the middle of these amazing words that a shriveled little man in the crowd spoke up?...
I spent most of last week in Robert Lee, Texas, with my three brothers at our maternal grandparents’ old home place. It was a good week. Those weeks always are. Granddaddy Key built that little house in 1928, so it’s approaching a 100th anniversary. I hereby propose to the guys (two are not all that far off from their own centennial) that we plan ahead and extend one of that year’s stays to a month or, at least, two weeks. Anything less would be disrespectful. For around 40 ye...
I’m looking at a picture of an old house. A very old picture. A very old house. It’s the house my mother, Wilma Jean Key, was born in on Aug. 15, 1915. I assume the picture of the house was probably taken a year or two later because another picture, just beside it in the album, is of my Grandmother Key holding my mother in her arms, and Mom is (maybe) a little less than 2 years old. The photo album was created by Grandmother; my oldest brother just found it, scanned the pag...
We’d not often put it this way, but I’m afraid that most of us live way too much of our lives afraid. When you boil down what bothers us—reduce it to its essence—at the bottom is almost aways fear. Analyze it even further, and at the root of most of our fear is this: we’re afraid we won’t have enough. And then what will become of us? In John 6, Jesus and his disciples have just sailed across the Sea of Galilee and landed, probably, near Bethsaida. What they’re looking for i...
According to Merriam-Webster.com, “martyr” most commonly refers to “a person who voluntarily suffers death as the penalty of witnessing to and refusing to renounce a religion.” I recently read an article that asserts as many as 160,000 Christians each year give up their lives because of their allegiance to Christ. Dan Wooding, journalist and co-host of the “Window on the World” radio show went on to write that “according to current rates, one in every 200 Christians ca...
If you’re perusing my column today for some sort of deep spiritual lesson, I warn you up front that I’ll be surprised if you find much. Wisdom and I may not, I’m afraid, sit on the same couch as often as we should anyway, but today … For one thing, there’s not much room on the couch. It counts as a somewhat flat surface. If my main goal in life were to fill up flat surfaces with all manner of junk and debris, I could hardly be more successful. Worse than any woman’s p...
G. K. Chesterton writes: “An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered.” I suppose, then, that I must be in the midst of an adventure. I’m writing on a Sunday evening. On Friday afternoon, my wife discovered that the air conditioner was not conditioning. Please note that I am not in the least blaming the messenger for imparting negative news. It is just a fact that she usually notices inconveniences of this sort before I do. If one of our vehicles is making a bit of a...
I’m sitting at a table as I write, breathing mountain air and relishing delicious silence. Until 10 minutes ago, I’d been spending the morning out on the deck of the cabin, bestirring myself only to move my chair to chase cool shade as the sun began its march. Ponderosa pines barely move in the almost non-existent breeze. This is good. A week ago (where did the time go?) we left home with another couple, some of our dearest friends with whom we’ve shared every stage of life. N...
I was sitting on the patio on a recent evening and enjoying some quiet time. It was almost cool, by which I mean it was mercifully less than 100. I’ve got some plants out there that seem to be doing well — considering the oppressive heat and drought. A couple of Mandevilla plants are blooming nicely. A pomegranate plant (believe it or not) is filling in well. Not sure yet what it will need to really bloom, but I need to do some research. I’ve got two or three hibiscus plant...
In my email recently was a survey from the U.S. congressman from the district where I live. One of the main questions had to do with the first Republican presidential debate that was held Aug. 23 in Milwaukee. Of course, a basic question was (I paraphrase): Did you watch the debate, the rival interview offered at the same time, or neither? I watched the debate. I couldn’t not; I’m interested. I’ve said before that the day I look forward to a repeat of the choice we faced...
I’m stuck. Stuck in a reading rut. And I really don’t mind. A good many years ago, I found myself hooked on the A&E Network series “Nero Wolfe.” It was a great series with some fine actors. The casting, I know now, was perfect. But producing it was expensive, cheap “reality” TV was beckoning, and it was canceled after two seasons, making way for more of the mind-numbing fare we now expect. That TV series introduced me to Rex Stout’s “Nero Wolfe” opus. Over the years, I’ve r...
The most important things in this life are the small things. To be blind to those is the worst sort of blindness. If you’d come to our house on a recent Saturday in the midst of a very hot August, you would have noticed something large in the back yard. Rising high above the back fence, easily seen from the street in front, was a “blow up” water slide. The thing was huge, taller than our house. And it was loud. The blower fan was making its presence known, but louder still...
I probably shouldn’t wax lyrical about how much I love naps. You might get the idea that I’m not one of those people who take the view, “I can sleep when I’m dead.” And who believe that people who truly love naps will probably never lead Fortune 500 companies. Well, as to the latter, I very much suspect that leading a Fortune 500 company is incredibly overrated. Happiness is worth far too much to me to pay the price for that sort of gig, even if it had ever been a realistic...
I am writing this column a bit early this week — mostly as a defensive measure. As long as I’m writing, I’m under air conditioning. And I’m not mowing the second half of my yard. I mowed the first 5,000 square yards of my yard this morning, but then I had a noon meeting. Since it’s 103 degrees now, I’m willing to wait until later to finish. The legendary David “Davy” Crockett had already served in the U.S. Congress (from Tennessee), but he lost the 1835 election and fa...
I enjoy reading, and I particularly enjoy reading good columnists. “Good” may mean that I agree with them. I can be narrow that way. But “good” also means that they make me think. I do that rarely enough that I appreciate the help. My favorite columnists are my favorite columnists in large part because they’re good at wielding words to cut through fog and haze and mental mushiness. At least, they help me see what’s going on around us all through the eyes of someone I’v...
I’m OK. I’m just tired. I don’t know what you usually say if you’re ever a bit tired and down and, truth be told, as you look around at our world and society, deeply disappointed. But that’s what I say. To others and to myself at those times. I hope most folks don’t think of me as being depressive and depressing. I hope my tombstone has something engraved on it pointing to the real hope I absolutely believe is ours in Christ. But, yes, on some days, I figure that stone will sa...
When I was a much younger preacher, I was occasionally asked to offer an invocation, a prayer, at the opening of my hometown’s City Commission meetings. Once my part was done, I often stayed around for a while just as an interested citizen to see what was going on that might be interesting. On a few rare occasions, I found myself at a meeting where “condemnation hearings” were on the agenda, and they were indeed interesting. The city couldn’t condemn (and order torn down) s...
When St. Paul stakes with words God’s claim of sovereignty over the circumstances of our lives and proclaims the Almighty’s promise of ever-present and never-failing love, the great apostle does so with his eyes wide open. “What can separate us from the love of Christ?” he asks, and when he lists among the weapons of the enemy, “trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword,” his list is much more than hypothetical. These are the words of a...
It’s just a sad fact that for a decade or two, the deadline for this column to be sent to the not-even-close-to-100 newspapers that publish it is, Monday, each week, at noon. A sad corollary to the sad fact above is that I seem to be completely incapable of writing the column early (unless an editor makes a cogent plea for such). When I say that I tend toward procrastination, what I mean is that procrastination tends to permeate every cell in my body. I doubt I will ever k...
Garages are like dogs. All dogs are descended, canine genetic researchers tell us, from wolves. (A canine genetic researcher is not, I should mention, a dog who does genetic research. “Genetic canine researcher” is nonsensical. “Researchers who study canine genetics.” There ya go.) No, your garage has nothing to do with wolves. Be patient. Chihuahuas are dogs. Weimaraners are dogs. Pomeranians are dogs. My garage is a garage. My friend’s garage, down the street, is a garage....
Change. What we need is change! That word and sentiment, or a jillion variations of them, work well as political campaign slogans. Toss the rather plastic word out there, and most folks immediately think of some fairly solid and even specific improvements in their circumstances, though slick politicians usually get away with mouthing “change” in vaporous terms. Of course, there’s always an exception. Something really specific. Chickens. I found myself thinking of the old p...
I bowed to peer pressure recently. Ironically, the pressure came from the very offspring I’d always sternly counseled to avoid peer pressure. Yes, and I’d also taught them to resist blaming other people for their own actions. None of this, “He made me mad, so I decked him.” Nope. You let the kid punch your buttons and you — yes, son, you! — chose to deck him. You made the choice. Now, own it, and deal with the consequences. Whether or not you’re taking the jerk down a notch...
