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.

This is first in submissions from James Collins, the pastor at First Southern Baptist Church.

Do You Feel Lucky?

“And when he was come nigh, even now at the descent of the mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen; Saying, Blessed be the King that cometh in the name of the Lord: peace in heaven, and glory in the highest. And some of the Pharisees from among the multitude said unto him, Master, rebuke thy disciples.”

Luke 19:37-39

Many years ago, before we were married, I was invited to my wife’s parents’ house for a visit. We had been dating for a while. I suppose Amanda’s mom and dad realized they were not going to get rid of me. So, they invited me for a visit. When I arrived, Amanda’s momma said, “We want you to feel welcome.”

They put me in their youngest daughter, Amy’s bedroom. She was thirteen at the time. Her bed was small, and my feet hung over the end. Stuffed animals were all over the bed. The blankets were pink. It was not very manly, but I didn’t mind. I looked forward to relaxing. My plan was to sleep in the next morning.

I was awakened early by a knock. I opened my eyes and looked at the red digital clock. It was 4:45 in the morning. Amanda’s dad knocked at the door. He said, “Today is spirit day at school and Amy needs her red shirt.” I said, “Come on in.” He came in with Amy. They turned the light on and started digging through the closet. It was 4:45 in the morning.

They had a dog, Lucky. Lucky was not a little dog. He was a big, gray Weimaraner. Lucky ran in the open door, jumped in the bed, and tried to get under the covers. He grabbed the pink blankets with his teeth and started trying to pull them off me. It was 4:45 in the morning.

Amanda’s dad and sister were looking for the red shirt, and they were not paying any attention to the dog. After a minute, Lucky let go of the blankets, started licking my face, and nibbling at my ear. All the while, Amanda’s dad and her sister were still looking for the shirt. Amanda came in and started helping them. Now there were three people looking for a red shirt. The lights were on and the dog was trying to rip my ear off. It was 4:46 in the morning.

Amanda’s momma walked into the room. The entire family was there — Amanda, her sister, her mom, and dad. They were all looking for the red shirt. Lucky the dog was chewing on my ear. Nobody was paying attention to that dog. I thought about jumping up and screaming, “Let me help ya’ll find that red shirt!” It was 4:47 in the morning.

Twenty minutes went by. They destroyed the bedroom…but they never found the red shirt.

They walked out, turned out the light, closed the door, and left Lucky on the bed with me. He was still trying to rip off my ear.

After a minute, Amanda’s momma opened the door and called the dog. As she slammed the door I heard her scream, “You left the dog in there. You are going to wake James up if you’re not careful!”

So much for feeling welcome!

Sometimes, we treat Jesus the same way. We say, “Jesus, You are welcome in my house, but don’t go in the computer room. There are some things in there that I like to look at, but I don’t want You to see.

Jesus, You are welcome, but don’t look at my television. There are programs that I watch, but I don’t want You to see them.

Jesus, I want to welcome You into my heart because I don’t want to go to hell, but you can’t own everything. You can’t be welcome everywhere in my life.

The point is: We should welcome Jesus into every area of our lives. Jesus can’t be your Savior if He is not your Lord.

Palm Sunday is next week. It is called “Palm Sunday,” because the people welcomed Jesus by spreading palm branches in His path. However, there were Pharisees in the crowd that did not believe in Jesus. They wanted the crowd to quit shouting praises to Jesus. They refused to welcome Jesus. Eventually, they turn the crowd against the Lord. A week later, the same crowd yelled for Jesus to be crucified.

Where would you have been on that first Palm Sunday? Would you have been among the disciples that welcomed Him — or would you have been among the Pharisees that did not welcome Him? It is easy to condemn the Pharisees, but would we have acted differently? All of us are sinners. All of us have had areas in our life where Christ was not welcome.

The Good news is Jesus still loves us. Through Christ, we can be forgiven.

Will you welcome Him into every area of your life?