Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
Serving Clovis, Portales and the Surrounding Communities
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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...
If Jesus had done no other miracle (and he did many), I wonder if getting the 12 guys we now call apostles to spend time in the same room and not kill each other might not be a pretty impressive feat. OK, let’s go ahead and take Judas out of the mix. But still ... Maybe it’s not terribly surprising that the fishermen would get along. Two pairs of them were brothers, of course. Generally, that helps. Except when it really, really doesn’t. I think it did. (And, by the way,...
Who put Jesus on the cross? That’s a question one of my favorite Bible professors liked to ask when he wanted to make his students’ brains bleed. And it’s a question with a hook in it. So, what do you think? If you answered, the religious authorities who were in power, you’d be right. The most overtly religious folks of Jesus’ day. Folks who fancied themselves the most “spiritual” of all people killed the Son of God. Now, by the way, if you think I’m leaning toward any kind of...
Sad and glad. At this moment, I am both. Last week I completed the editing and page creation for the final issue of The Christian Appeal devotion magazine. I’ve served as the managing editor for the little monthly magazine for almost 40 years. A very little math is the only kind of math I ever do, but I’m pretty sure that, when I sent the files to the printer for the June issue, it was Issue #472 for me. That’s quite a run, though it’s less than the 60 years this issue m...
No doubt, among the most influential Christian leaders who ever lived was the amazing John Wesley who, along with his brother, Charles, founded the Methodist movement within the Church of England. And John Wesley writes simply, “I learned more about Christianity from my mother than from all the theologians in England.” If you read even a little about Susanna Wesley, you’ll get a picture of an incredible lady of faith. The quality of Susanna’s and John’s relationship is portra...
My laptop computer went mute recently. I can’t tell you exactly when, but I’m sure it lost its voice several days before I noticed it had lost its voice. Its speakers, I knew — or thought I knew — were fine; they just were not speaking. As emergencies go, it was way down the list from a house fire and just maybe a bit above being subjected to another smarmy ad on TV by a politician going low to assure you that he is not a low-life politician or, at least, not as slimy as his d...
G. K. Chesterton wrote that there are no uninteresting things – “only uninterested people.” And he’s right, you know. I just returned from a few days with my three brothers at Robert Lee, Texas. For almost 40 years, two times a year, we’ve met at our maternal grandparents’ old place there. For more than a few of those years, our dad was with us. Precious time. A precious place. Granddaddy Key had that little house built in 1928, so it’s sneaking up on 100 years old. We’ve pi...
If I were asked to give the title of my favorite song, I don’t know what I would say. I like too many. If I were asked, by someone trying to make the task easier, to list 10 of my favorite songs, I don’t think I could do that, either. Same problem. Too many. I like so many songs. Different styles, genres, eras. A song doesn’t have to be perfect for me to like it. Hey, I was in high school in the 1970s. Lots happened in that era that no one should be proud of, but some of th...
I was sleeping soundly on a nice Saturday morning. It was, to be exact, what many Christians have called for long ages “Holy Saturday,” the Saturday before Easter. It had been for us a very nice Holy Week indeed. In our little community, for much longer than the 38 years my family and I have been here, we’ve had a nice tradition sponsored by our Ministerial Alliance. A Palm Sunday Community Service, hosted at one of our churches, gets us off to a great start. Then, begun...
“Christendom has had a series of revolutions,” writes G. K. Chesterton, “and in each one of them Christianity has died. Christianity has died many times and risen again; for it had a God who knew the way out of the grave.” Oh, yes, and a God who “so loved the world” that he truly did “give his only Son” both to pardon and to empower. The pardon had to be real. The power had to be real. Why? Because humanity’s problem was real. Put simply, our problem is that none of us measur...
No doubt about it, I have a heart for small churches. And that means, most churches. Don’t get me wrong. I’m thankful for churches of all sizes who preach the good news about Christ. And all churches, whatever their size, have their share of challenges. According to Aaron Earl’s article in Lifeway Research, based on a 2020 “Faith Communities Today” (FACT) study surveying 15,000 “faith communities,” 70% of the churches surveyed had less than 100 members and averaged 65 i...
