“When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice; and I am persuaded that in thee also.”

2 Timothy 1:5

Timothy was born in the 1970s to a girl who was still a child herself. Timothy’s biological mother was a young, pretty, naive, teenage girl. One night, she made a mistake. Timothy was the consequence.

Timothy’s father was the all-American boy. He was handsome and charming; the most popular boy in high-school. Timothy’s father was an honor student and a star athlete. He was going places in life. A wife and a baby didn’t fit into his plans. So, Timothy’s father left him before he was even born, and he was branded a bastard. He had no daddy. On his birth certificate, the block was left blank where his father’s name should have been.

Timothy’s mother was a child herself. She was young and couldn’t raise a child. She made the decision for Timothy to be adopted by his grandmother. On the very day he was born, Timothy was taken from the hospital, and loved, and cared for by his grandmother. Timothy’s grandmother became Timothy’s momma.

Momma loved Timothy so much. She had always wanted a son, but God had seen fit to give her three girls. As the years went by, she thought that she would never have a son, but just like Abraham’s wife, Sarah, who was blessed with a baby boy in her old age — God blessed Timothy’s Momma with a baby boy in her old age.

Momma was so blessed by her boy. She wiped his nose and his backside too. She held him at night when he was sick. She loved Timothy and raised him like he was her own child.

When Timothy was in school, he made Momma a present. He took an empty Campbell’s Soup Can and glued un-cooked macaroni noodles on it. Then he painted it gold and gave it to momma. She took the ugly can, placed it on the kitchen table, and put flowers in it. Whenever anyone would come to the house, she would brag and say, “Look at the beautiful vase that Timothy made for me.” She couldn’t have been prouder if it were made of real gold.

One day, Timothy came home crying from school with a bloody nose. He had been in a fight. A boy he thought was his friend had beat him up. Timothy asked, “Why did Joey hit me? He was supposed to be my friend.” Momma sighed as she cleaned him up. She wiped away his tears. Then she picked him up and sang, “What a friend we have in Jesus all our sins and griefs to bear. What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer.” Timothy never forgot that.

Momma was a fine Christian woman. She did everything she possibly could to see that Timothy was raised in a Christian home. He went to Sunday School and church. He learned the Bible. He learned about faith in Jesus. He learned to pray, “God is Great. God is good. Let us thank Him for our food” before every meal. He prayed every night, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” Momma taught Timothy to pray.

Timothy’s earliest memories are of Momma singing to him. She sang, Jesus Loves Me, Jesus Loves the Little Children, The Old Rugged Cross, Nothing but the Blood, Amazing Grace, and all the classic hymns. She also had old record albums of Elvis Presley, Jim Reeves, Buck Owens, George Jones, and Charley Pride singing Gospel Music. She played those records all the time. They were scratchy and old, but they sounded like Heaven to Timothy.

Momma wanted Timothy to be a preacher when he grew up. She used to talk to him about it. She said, “God has put it on my heart that you will take the Gospel around the world.” She dressed Timothy like a preacher in his little suit and took him to church. As the preacher was in the pulpit, she whispered to Timothy, “Someday, you’ll be a great preacher.”

Momma was very sick. Timothy didn’t know it, but she was slowly dying. One day, Timothy overheard her praying, “God, let me live to raise Timothy. Life will be so hard on him without me to take care of him.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t live. She died on Mother’s Day in 1981. Little Timothy was devastated. His life was turned upside-down. For the next several years, he was shuffled from one foster home to another. He became bitter, heart-broken, and angry with God.

Two thousand years before Timothy was born, the Apostle Paul wrote to another young man named Timothy. Paul told Timothy that his faith was planted by his mother and grandmother. The Bible also speaks about training up a child in the faith and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

The seeds of faith that Timothy’s Momma planted grew. After years of struggle, Timothy found his way to the Lord. He gave his life to Jesus Christ and was saved. Later, God called him to the ministry. Just like Momma had dreamed, Timothy became a preacher.

Today, I, James Timothy Collins, am the man I am because of the Grace of God and the love of a Christian Momma.

The point is: A Christian Mother is truly a blessing. As you have been reading this story about my momma, you have been thinking about your own. If she is still living, call her. Wish her a “Happy Mother’s Day.”

Better yet, go see her.

If your momma has passed on, say a prayer thanking God for blessing you with such a wonderful woman to raise you.

I thank God for mine.

Pastor James Collins serves at Fort Scott’s First Southern Baptist Church. He can be reached at www.thepointis.net.

“Who among you will give ear to this? who will hearken and hear for the time to come?”

Isaiah 42:23

I have been trying to learn to use my cell phone, but there are many buttons and apps – I have no idea what most of them do. The other day, I saw my friend, Ida Ford, talking into her cell phone. However, she wasn’t on a call. “What are you doing?” I asked. She said, “I’m using the voice command app. I talk, and the voice command types my text message.”

Ida showed me how the app worked and for the past few days, I have tried to use it. Yet, it doesn’t work right. It doesn’t understand my redneck accent.

Someone texted me and told me about a lady from church who was in the hospital. I replied with my voice command, “I hope she gets better. I pray she does.” Only it said, “I pray she dies.” That was not good…

Once I got the voice command activated, I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. I got frustrated and said, “Baloney!” When I said, “Baloney,” the phone said, “Bologna is a city in Italy. It is also a cooked, smoked sausage.” I screamed, “I didn’t say Bologna. I said, Baloney!”

Later that day, I was at the dentist office with the phone in my pocket. As I was sitting in the waiting room, a voice said, “Say a command.” The lady at the reception desk looked up at me. I heard the voice again, “Say a command.” I realized the voice was coming out of my britches.

“Say a command.”

I took the phone out of my pocket, tried to turn it off, but it kept saying, “Say a command.”

“Say a command.”

“I command you to shut up!” I exclaimed.

I was called back to the exam room. I was sitting in the dental chair while the hygienist was cleaning my teeth. I couldn’t say anything because there was a suction hose, tooth scraper, polisher, waterpik, and seven or eight other dental tools hanging out of my mouth. I couldn’t have said anything if I tried.

Suddenly, I heard a voice say, “Did you say call Brian Poodle?” It said it again. “Did you say call Brian Poodle?”

I know Brian Williams, Brian Foster, and Brian Lane. However, I don’t know Brian Poodle. I know some wiener dogs, and a schnauzer, but I don’t know a poodle.

Frustrated, I finally reached in my pocket and turned off that stinking thing. I was tired of hearing the voice. So, I turned it off.

Often, we do the same thing.

Young people get tired of listening to their parents. So, they turn them off.

In church, people get tired of listening to the preacher. So, they turn him off.

You get tired of listening to the Word of God. So, you turn it off.

The point is: God might just be trying to say a command to you. Will you give an ear to Him? Will you just listen? Don’t cover your ears and close your heart.

Pastor James Collins serves at Fort Scott’s First Southern Baptist Church. He can be reached at www.thepointis.net.

Let’s face it. Sometimes being a bold witness for Christ is kinda hard. No, not kinda. It is. Last month, for example, Dave and I went to a Mexican restaurant. The only available seats were at the bar. Dave sat at the end, and I sat next to him with an empty stool on my other side. When an inebriated man sat beside me, ordered two beers and started slurring questions, I tried to be Christ-like. “Are you a Hillary fan?” he began. “No, but I’m a taco fan,” I answered. Next question: “Are you a Christian?” When I said I was, he yelled excitedly, “Me too!” Trying to high-five me, he almost fell off his barstool. (Dear Lord, all I wanted was a taco.) Whenever Dave and I tried to talk, my bar buddy would interrupt. Rude. But we are called to love rude people too, right?

Last week I wrote that we are called to disciple others. I imagine some of you immediately had heart palpitations at the mere thought of sharing your faith. I get it. I pray for witnessing opportunities, and then Satan reminds me that I’m about to look like a fool. Then I think of the people I personally have prayed for, people who have opted not to give Jesus a chance, and how I ask God to send others into their lives so their words might have an impact. What if others ask the same, and I am that “other” person they have prayed for?

There are hundreds of ways to share Jesus Christ. For starters, we need to pray for opportunities to tell our story: We were lost. We were found. We are saved. Our life has never been the same.

The best way to witness our faith is to live it out (even if it involves drunks at taco stands). Sometimes it’s not about that person at all; it’s how others watch what is going on. In our couples’ Bible study, “Helen” shared that she and her husband went to a boat show the previous weekend. She watched a dirty, homeless lady walk into a coffee shop and stand in line. Helen felt compelled to give her some money (something she admitted she never had done before), approached the woman, handed her the money and followed that with a hug, telling her God loved her. Within the hour as she and her husband were checking in for the show, the ticket-taker stopped her and asked, “Were you the one who just hugged that homeless lady back in the coffee shop? I saw you do that and thought how I never take that risk but need to.”

Someone once said, “Preach the gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words.” Start by being a good listener. Everyone has a need or a hurt. Sometimes we physically can offer help, but one thing we definitely can do is offer to pray for them (and then, of course, pray.) The other day I was outside when a middle-aged woman walked by with two dogs, one on a leash and the other in a stroller. I commented on her dogs (a GREAT way to start a conversation, I have found), and she shared that at 4:00 that afternoon, the strollered dog was being put to sleep. This was their “last walk.” I was touched by her story and told her I would pray for her. At 3:57, I began praying. The next day when I ran into her, she told me how much my offer to pray meant to her. It was a start. Dave and I have a friend who eats out a lot, and at every meal, he tells the waiters/waitresses that he is getting ready to pray a blessing on his food and asks if they have any prayer requests. Most of the time he is told no, but occasionally he is given an opportunity to share Christ. I know shy people who leave gospel tracts on shelves in supermarkets, gas stations coffee shops, trick-or-treat bags, Christmas cards, etc. The opportunities are endless. We are told in Scripture that we have a responsibility to share Jesus: Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth. (2Timothy 2:15) We all have a “best.” My approach might not be yours, but one thing is for certain: saying or doing nothing is not an option.

I imagine many, if not all people who know me, know where I stand on the issue of terminating and murdering children in the womb.

So, when it comes down to the recent ruling of the Kansas Supreme Court and their callous opinion that they believe the brutal dismemberment and murder of children is protected by the state constitution, this I strongly oppose and condemn. “I believe wholeheartedly one of government’s fundamental duties is to protect innocent life, not destroy it.”

Will You Join Me?

“Pray without ceasing.” 1 Thessalonians 5:17

McKinney, Tx.

There are some faces that will never leave you. Two such, for me, I saw here today.

We arrived very early this morning at McKinney Medical Center. We drove down last night to be with my wife’s parents. My father-in-law, Jack Mills, had to have surgery this morning. After we all prayed, I stayed out in the main waiting room with our kids. Jack went to surgery while my wife, Amanda, her sister, and mother went back to the main surgical waiting room.

The kids had their heads in an electronic device. I had mine in a paperback book. I was about to start chapter two, when a young Hispanic woman with a baby on her hip walked through the sliding glass entry doors. She checked in with the receptionist and sat down across from me.

I didn’t mean to stare, but the woman looked tired. She was a young mother, but she appeared older – almost middle aged. Lines were etched into her face. Eyes that once may have sparkled were dull and sad. She had the kind of eyes that had shed too many tears – as if she had cried so much and had no tears left.

Her baby was gorgeous. She looked to be about ten to twelve-months-old. The baby locked eyes with mine. I made a silly face and she smiled. Her mother noticed my interaction with her child. “Hola,” she said. “Su nombre es Mariana.” I continued to play peek-a-boo with Mariana and said, “Yo not hablo very much bueno Español.” The woman’s face that seemed to have a perpetual frown, smiled at my bad attempt at Spanish. She said, “Her name is Mariana.”

“A beautiful little girl with a beautiful name,” I remarked. “What’s she doing here?”

“She is having her tonsils taken out,” the young mother replied.

“She is awful little to be having that done.”

“Yes, señor. You are right. She has cancer…lymphoma. It has spread to her tonsils.”

I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say, but the nurse came and called them back before I could utter, “I’m sorry.” She picked up Mariana, her diaper bag, and purse and started to walk away. I called to her, “Ma’am.” She turned around and I said, “I will be praying for you and your precious Mariana.” Where there was sadness, a faint smile appeared. She nodded as if to say, “Thank you.” Then she turned and disappeared carrying little Mariana into the bowels of the hospital.

My father-in-law’s surgery went well, and we left the hospital. Our lives go on…and, yet…I can’t stop thinking about a young mother, whose name I don’t know, and her daughter, Mariana. I keep asking God, “Why?” Why would a sweet, innocent baby get cancer? It doesn’t make any sense. I suppose I know why, theologically speaking. We live in a sin-sick, cursed world. However, knowing we live in a fallen world doesn’t ease the ache in my stomach and the anguish in my heart.

Asking God why, is getting me nowhere. So, I have decided to ask God, “Where are You in this?” After all, God is everywhere. So, He must be in this situation. Maybe God put me in a hospital waiting room in McKinney, Texas for me to pray for Mariana and her mother. Maybe God arranged our meeting to give inspiration for the writing of this column. Maybe God wanted me to send a message out to His faithful prayer warriors. Maybe God wants you to pray. Maybe God wants to be glorified through the healing of a sick little girl. Maybe…Just maybe…

The point is: God wants us to pray. Prayer is an act of obedience. God says to pray, and we must act. Does God need us to help Him out? No, but we pray because God has established prayer as part of His plan to accomplish His will in this world. So, I’m going to pray for a miracle healing for Mariana and peace that passes all understanding for her momma.

Will you join me?

Pastor James Collins serves at Fort Scott’s First Southern Baptist Church. He can be reached at (620) 223-2986, or through the website www.fortscottfsbc.com.

The Bottom Line

by Jimmy Tucker

Security guards required

I’ve had guard duty assigned to me many times…by my wife. Occasionally, she would need me to watch our children when they were small. Apparently, I did a pretty good job of guarding them because nothing serious ever happened on my watch. As Christian parents, we have 24-hour duty to guard our families against Satan’s attacks. This responsibility begins by guarding our own hearts and trusting God for protection, blessing, and favor for our loved ones.

In 1 Chronicles Chapter 9, the Israelites were just returning to Jerusalem from their exile to Babylon because of their unbelieving and disobedient lives. The first to return were the priests, Levites, and the temple support staff. All of the priests were heads of their families and were skilled and seasoned servants in the work of worshiping God. The Levites were the musicians and security guards for the House of God.

The security guards were responsible for round-the-clock-surveillance of God‘s Temple, and they opened the gates each morning. The musicians had permanent living quarters in The Temple because they were on 24-hour duty. The Temple of God was a big deal, and not to be taken lightly. We can take this as an example of how we are to guard our hearts and lives.

When the Holy Spirit was given on Pentecost, all believers became the Temple of God. Our body and soul are the Temple of God now. “Don’t you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself, for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body” (1 Corinthians 6:19,20 NLT).

The Old Testament security guards respected and protected God’s Temple 24-7. So how are you doing guarding your heart and trusting God for protection, blessing, and favor? If you were the Holy Spirit, would you feel at home in your body? Your body, your health, your family, and all that you have been given are not your own to do with as you please. Your entire being has been paid for by the Son of God’s sacrifice on Calvary.

Each believer has the grave responsibility of guarding his heart. No one else can do this for you. The Bible tells us to guard our heart, lips, mind, etc. “Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life“ (Proverbs 4:23 NLT).  If you’re not doing a good job of guarding your heart and trusting in God, you can expect God to discipline you as He did the Nation of Israel. You’ll have to decide to obey God, be responsible, and make the necessary changes to ensure proper surveillance of your body, soul, and spirit (God’s Temple). “Didn’t the LORD make you one with your wife? In body and spirit, you are His. And what does He want? Godly children from your union. So guard your heart; remain loyal to the wife of your youth” (Malachi 2:15 NLT). 

How do you guard your heart? Proverbs 4:20-22 NLT tells us to “…pay attention to what I say. Listen carefully to My words.  Don’t lose sight of them. Let them penetrate deep into your heart, for they bring life to those who find them, and healing to their whole body.” You have the privilege and responsibility to open the gate of your heart to the Holy Spirit and His Word every day. “Keep watch and pray, so that you will not give in to temptation. For the spirit is willing, but the body is weak” (Mark 14:38 NLT).

The Bottom Line: Don’t go to sleep on guard duty, because it’s your responsibility and no one else can do it for you.

Pastor Jimmy Tucker

(620) 223-1483

Diamond Community Church

10:45 a.m. Worship

Buried

“For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures.” 1 Corinthians 15:3-4

Poppa looked out at the vultures circling near the back pasture. I walked out onto the back porch and handed him a cup of coffee. He took the cup with his right hand and put his left on my shoulder. I was seven-years-old. “Something’s dead out there,” he said. As he took a sip from his cup, I looked up at him and asked, “Is it Miss Bossy?” Miss Bossy was the name I had given to Poppa’s gentle, tan-colored Guernsey cow. We had raised her from a calf. For the past three or four days, she hadn’t come up to the feed lot. “Most likely,” he said.

We lived on a small forty-acre farm. I sat on the wheel cover as Poppa drove his old International Harvester tractor. It didn’t take us very long to reach the back pasture. Miss Bossy had been dead long enough to bloat. Flies buzzed around the carcass.

I asked, “What happened to her?”

“All living things die,” he answered. “We have to bury her.”

“Why? Why don’t you let the buzzards have her?”

“Because as she decays the soil and the ground water will be contaminated. We don’t know what killed her. She might have a disease that could spread to the other animals. Some diseases can even spread to people.”

I climbed off and watched as Poppa started digging. He had a small back-hoe attachment on the back, and a bucket on the front of the tractor. He made quick work of the hole and climbed down. He attached one end of a chain to Miss Bossy’s back hooves and the other end to the back of the tractor. He climbed back on, pulled the remains into the hole, climbed off, and unhooked the chain. Poppa got back on the tractor and used the front bucket to push the pile of dirt into the hole.

Tired of standing, I sat in the grass and intently observed him as he went about the job. When he finished he said, “Son, let’s go.” I started to crawl back up, but before I could, he reached down and pulled me up. He sat me in his lap. I steered the tractor as he shifted gears and ran the pedals.

When we got back to the house, I asked, “Poppa, why do things die?” He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Dying is part of living. The trick is to learn to let the dead stay buried and go on with your life.”

His words, which I didn’t really understand at the time, have stuck with me over the years. I have come to realize the wisdom of an old Oklahoma farmer is echoed in the Gospel. In 1 Corinthians 15, the Apostle Paul clearly stated the Gospel is the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He died to take away our sins, He rose to defeat death, but why does the Bible emphasize His burial?

In first century Israel, when a Jewish person died, they were embalmed, wrapped in linen, and buried in a tomb. That is what Jesus did with our sins. Paul also wrote in Galatians 2, “I am crucified with Christ…” Not only have we been crucified with Christ, we have also been buried with Christ. Your past isn’t just dead, it’s buried.

The point is: If you are a believer in Jesus Christ, your old life is buried. Through His death, burial, and resurrection, you can be raised to live a new life of victory.

Are you preyed upon by buzzards of guilt? Is the devil buzzing around the bloated carcass of your old life? Does the stench of past sins remind you of the person you once were? Is the disease of your past killing your present?

You don’t have to live defeated. If you are a Christian, your past is dead and buried. Let the dead stay buried and go on with your life.

Pastor James Collins serves at Fort Scott’s First Southern Baptist Church. He can be reached at (620) 223-2986, or through the website www.fortscottfsbc.com.