Rite of passage: A grateful heart
Churches used to do it all the time, but now it is a rare event. It used to be that when I served as a guest speaker, after I finished preaching and as the closing prayer was being said, the pastor would escort me to the back of the church, and people would line up to shake our hands as they left. I have stood in many of these lines as people tried to think of things to say as they went out the door. Most of the time I heard “Good...
Rite of passage: Tattoo faith
Every once in a while, if you look below this column, you will see the words of a writer named Caleb Moore. In case you’re wondering, yes, that is my son, who has become a tremendous father, a caring husband, a great preacher and a decent writer. To be honest, I am both proud of him and jealous of his writing ability, and I’m glad you read my articles before his came along. God has led Caleb to minister in places I would never have...
Rite of passage: Rattails, EPS, expressing gratitude
I was talking to one of my staff members the other day. He was telling me about finding an old photo in which he sported a rattail. If you don’t remember this hairstyle, it was cool in the ‘80s for men to grow what I would call a sickly-looking ponytail. Most of the hair would be short, with one ratty batch of hair trailing off the back of the head and crawling down the back, hence the name “rattail.” This young man went on to say how...
Rite of passage: Protect or prepare?
This spring, my son Caleb and I taught at a Global Missions Conference for our dear friends at Mountain View Baptist Church in Layton, Utah. I have preached there on many occasions, and my son once led a mission trip to engage with the Mormons in a nearby community. Both Caleb and I disagree with the Mormons’ theology, but we both agree that they get one thing right: casting into their children the expectation of service. To the...
Rite of passage: Significance—and creamed corn
I reached a mile marker this week, and it has hit me fairly hard. I tried to convince the government I wasn’t old enough, but last week, they made me apply for Medicare. First of all, I’m not sure who this Medi is and whether or not she really does care. Second, everyone in the world seems to know I’m in this season of life. I’ve received a boatload of mail, all saying, “Congratulations, old man! You are turning 65 soon, and you know...
