I Do Not Understand

 I do not understand all Your purposes and ways,

Why there are so many painful saturated days, 

I cannot comprehend all the sickness and disease, 

While others live pain free lives of relative ease, 

Questions go unanswered leaving people discontent, 

Grappling with life issues the mind cannot orient, 

Oppressive burdens weigh heavy pushing sheep down, 

The weight sinks and many feel their faith will drown, 

While You remain silent seemingly for suffering alone, 

While You hold all the power seated on Your throne, 

I dare not judge You mighty God with feeble mind, 

Answers that are beyond understanding I can't find, 

Instead I come like a little helpless broken lad, 

Needing comfort and reassurance from my Dad, 

Father, You are bigger than piercing searing pain, 

You are still shelter when I'm drenched by life's rain, 

In Your presence is delight and reason to rejoice, 

In faith and praise I continue to lift up my voice, 

I trust You in life's hours of pitch black darkness, 

I trust in the grip of life's unrelenting harshness, 

I may never fully be able to totally understand, 

Ways that higher and greater than I comprehend, 

You have earned the right to be trusted and believed,

So I press on in faith that You long ago conceived,

Trudging through these endless times of trials, 

 Your love for me is  reason for endless smiles. 

Saluting Snoopy

 I came across an interesting site today while running some errands. I saw a wooden cut out of Snoopy and Woodstock in a yard. Snoopy wore an army green soldier shirt and cap. He stood at attention saluting three small white wooden crosses. It reminded me this is Memorial Day weekend. 

Memorial Day. The symbolic beginning of summer. Grills get fired up, meat gets cooked and consumed, many go the lake, and families gather. Not all families gather. Some will never gather with a deceased son, daughter, husband, wife, sibling or friend again until eternity. For these families Memorial Day has a much deeper meaning. 

As we are right in the middle of graduation season, my youngest will walk the stage tomorrow Lord willing, people choose their next steps. High school graduates decide between career, college, or enlistment. Many choose to enlist in one of the branches of the military. They take an oath to protect and defend this country and the Constitution of the United States. Some pay the ultimate price for keeping that oath. They exchange their life for the benefit of people like me to get the freedom to do what I do.   

I think of Nay and Air Force enlisted getting attacked at Pearl Harbor. Thousands died that day. More would follow as they stormed the beaches of Normandy and through the dark dreary days of World War II. Anxious families spent sleepless nights and lifted up unending intercessions for their loved ones protection. Some got the dreaded knock on the door from a soldier to bring the bad news. More have died in the seemingly never ending war on terrorism. Brave men and women are deployed in hostile environments where they are ambushed, betrayed, and caught in battle after battle. 

The sad outcome is manifested when flag draped coffins are unloaded off airplanes to awaiting and grieving family members. It is a horrid scene. Parents cry in sorrow before the casket of their child. Wives and husbands wail in anguish and cling to the flag draped coffin. Children, often too young to understand, stand bewildered not comprehending. That is the real truth behind Memorial Day. Some would chide, "It is a man made holiday." A well deserved one in my opinion. 

It is raining outside. I sit here dry and comfortable in my office. Right across the street is the Spring Creek cemetery. I saw cub scouts gather there this week to put out flags on the grave sites of those who served in the military. Little red, white and blue flags litter the grave yard. Another reminder of what this holiday represents. Freedom does not come cheaply. Many have died trading in their lives as a deposit that I could pursue and live out the dream of freedom for my family. 

I am humbled. Grateful. I remember. I hope you will take a little time to reflect and do the same. Go a step beyond and pray for grieving families and for our military deployed around the world. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE AND SACRIFICE!

The Painted Man

I got up early last Monday. After a full day on Sunday, I could barely concentrate all day long.  It rained early and I wondered if we would be able to go to 180 at the skate park later that evening. It cleared up and turned out beautiful. We talked to several at the skatepark, shard pizza, and water. I brought something extra to hand out. 

We were given a gift of 1,000 dvds with three movies about the life of Jesus. It dawned on me how effective these might be for the skatepark. We were able to give a few away. I left around 8:00 p.m. exhausted and wanting to get home to Brenda and Tucker and Turner. The journey back to Runaway Bay is a 45 minute drive from McGratton Park. I wanted to make it before it got dark. 

I drove through a little community called Poolville and then saw a man walking along side of the road going toward Poolville in the opposite direction I was going a couple of miles outside of town. He did not wear a shirt and looked to be a very hairy individual. Just a little ways up the road I saw a Ford Expedition on the side in the grass with the emergency hazard lights flashing. It occurred to me that must have been the car for the hairy man headed into town. Conviction set in. I felt prompted by the Holy Spirit to circle back and offer the man assistance. If you know me, that is a joke. I am not a mechanic. I could offer the guy a ride. I would be of no help to repair his car. 

The flesh rose up in me. I contemplated the situation. I was tired. I wanted to get home before dark. I was driving in the opposite direction the man was traveling in his vehicle and walking. None of these excuses impressed God. The conviction ensued. I came to a stop sign and a turn. I had to make a choice to obey God or disobey. With a deep sigh, I made a quick u-turn and found the hairy man now walking back toward the vehicle. I pulled up next to him and rolled the passenger window down. I asked if that was his vehicle and if he needed help. He told me the vehicle was not broke down but that and I quote, "She is just being a ...." It sounds like witch. 

I discovered he was not a hairy man at all. All that black that I thought was hair turned out to be tattoos. He was a painted man. When he did not want my assistance I drove on looking for a place to turn around to head back home. The Holy Spirit reminded me about the Jesus dvds. I whipped the car around and pulled up beside the man in the wrong lane. I did not have much time. I rolled down the window and said," I believe the Lord told me to turn around to come back and talk to you. I want to give you this. I will pray for you." With that I handed him the dvd. When he saw the picture of Jesus he rolled his eyes. He never said anything else. I had to get out of the oncoming traffic lane and with that our encounter ended. With the exception that I prayed for the painted man then and whatever he and his wife or girlfriend were going through. 

I want to pray for the painted man again. Jesus, you know the painted man's name and everything about him. I do not believe you brought him across my path by random chance. I believe you are at work in his life. If he does not know you, I ask you to prompt him to watch the dvd and come to know you as Savior. I ask you draw him to salvation. I thank you that you are working. I thank you that you are always on mission to seek and save those who are lost. I pray the painted man will be rescued and I will see him again in heaven. In your name Jesus, amen. 

Blindsided by Love

 Back in February a group hosted a Valentine's party in our Family Life Center. Several red heart shaped helium filled balloons escaped and have remained clinging to the ceiling like velcro. It has been impressive that they have stayed up this long. People comment about their staying power. Little did I know I would have a personal encounter with one of those balloons that would inspire this blog. 

This past week I walked in the gym to do my afternoon workout. I noticed one of the balloons hovering just above the ground about a foot off the floor. The balloon did not hover in the direction I headed, so I forgot all about it. Later I moved to another section of my workout which required me to leave the weight room and go back into the gym. I thought about the hovering balloon. I could not see it anywhere and thought maybe someone else got it and threw it in the trash. 

Sitting between sets with puddles of perspiration forming on the floor dripping from my nose and hands, I saw the red heart shaped balloon out of the corner of my eye. It drifted to my left floating in my direction. I took my eye off it for a moment to collect my breath and then looked back. Surprisingly that red heart shaped balloon kept floating in my direction. I watched it get within 20 feet and then ten and unexpectedly  gently floated right into my leg. 

A flash of inspiration hit me. That is exactly what the heart of God did to me back in 1983. He sent His love and heart to me in the form of a bold student minister who shared the gospel with me. I did not take one step that day to get closer to God. What did God do? He sent His heart and love to me through a messenger named Eli. He brushed His love and heart right up against me. I could not ignore it any more than I could ignore the red heart shaped balloon floating right up to my leg. 

Many verses fill my mind. John 3:16. Romans 5:8. Ephesians 2:1-10. All of these passages abound with the love of God and His desire to rescue men, women, teenagers, and children from their sin. He did that for me. He sent His love to me when I was not even looking for it. You could say He blindsided me with His love back in October of 1983. 

He reminded me of that blindsided love through a simple red heart shaped balloon. In a very tangible way, I got blindsided by love all over again. That is why I have pledged my allegiance to Jesus. That is why I try to live on mission for Him. That is why I exist; to bring as many others to Him as possible. I rejoice that this day, May 22, 2021 somewhere on this planet God is blindsiding people with His love. His family will grow today as people trust Him for salvation. What a party Heaven will throw as a result. Remember, there is more joy in Heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous who need no repentance. [Luke 15:7] Rejoice that many will be blindsided by love today and in worship gatherings all over the world this weekend. 

23 Years Ago

 It was the kind of phone call you never want to get. The call came from my grandmother informing me that Mama died. She suffered a massive heart attack three and a half months earlier on Valentine's Day. She suffered brain damage as a result of being unconscious. She never came home again after that. She had another heart attack that killed her. 

I saw Mama the day before. I treasure that last conversation we shared. The day she died I had to go to Houston to make a hospital visit for a church member who had been in a car wreck. I got the call about Mama when I returned. 

I hurried to the ER where her lifeless body lay. I knew she was not there. Just the physical body. Many thoughts flooded through my mind. One of them being that for the first time in my life I had no living parents. I had learned many years before that God is a Father to the fatherless. [Ps 68:5] I would learn that again. My four boys have no memories of my mother. That was 23 years ago. She never even met Tucker and Turner. Tanner was only three months old when she died. Taylor was just two. 

Mother's Day weekend always brings mixed emotions. Sometimes I am so busy with life and ministry that I do not always think about my mother. It has been 23 years. It never fails that come this weekend, I am taken back. To a difficult Mother's Day weekend. 

I preached my mother's funeral. I knew lost family members would be attendance. I wanted to make sure the gospel got preached. I am a no nonsense preacher and I did not pull punches that day. The message divided into two parts. All the good qualities about my mother and the truth that none of those good qualities saved her to qualify her entrance into heaven. That only came through a saving relationship with Jesus. I offered that same salvation to my family.

Church members and friends filed past the casket shaking my hand and expressing their love. It still stings to this day, only one person from my entire family shook my hand that day. They probably did not know what to say after the funeral message. I am thankful that I get to stay in contact with them and I keep presenting the truth of Jesus and His offer of salvation. 

I had a personal message etched on Mama's grave marker. "I will meet you at the Pearly Gates." 23 years later that is still my heart. It pains me that my sons never really got to know the fun, loving and giving grandmother she was to her other grandchildren. She spoiled them. She would have spoiled mine. They will get to know her one day. Until that day..... I will meet you Mama at the Pearly Gates. 

Flowers In The Grave

 The whole scene was heart wrenching. First of all, we met at a cemetery. That usually means their was a death. Only this death occurred some time ago. We gathered to bury the remains of the deceased. To make matters worse, the death occurred a little over four months ago. The pain is still fresh and the emotions still raw. As if that were not enough pain, this was the birthdate of the deceased. To add to the pain, a father and mother were burying their son on the day before Mother's Day. Gut wrenching. Believe it or not, an additional layer of pain happened when the deceased's two daughters stood at the grave. One too little to understand. The other old enough to miss her daddy. 

Several dozen gathered to bury this son, grandson, brother, and father. When his two daughters started placing roses in the grave it was hard to watch. Hard to watch the mom and dad burying their son. Hard to watch family members grieving all over again. Hard to watch those little girls. The older got on her hands and knees and carefully dropped her flowers in the grave. The younger just dropped hers. 

My task was to bring a measure of hope and comfort to a grieving family for the second time in a public setting. Where is there hope to be found in such heart wrenching circumstances? Only one place. I turned to the Bible. [I Thess 4:13-18]  and [I Cor 15:51-57] We talked about themes like grieving as those who have hope because of the return of Jesus and bodily resurrection of those who are dead in Christ. We talked about putting on immortality in the resurrection. The hope is found from looking from the perspective of the deceased. Hope is found in the grace, forgiveness and salvation found in Jesus. Hope is that death is gain for those redeemed by the blood of the lamb. 

It does not take away the pain of grief. There are still weepy days and tear filled nights. There is still an ache in the pit of the gut that cannot be soothed. There are many questions that may never be answered this side of eternity. EVEN IN ALL OF THAT THERE IS STILL HOPE. That hope is found in Jesus and the everlasting life He offers. 

I will long remember those two little girls dropping flowers in their father's grave. Their father would have been 28 today. Tragic. I think I will remember the mother's last words before we departed for a long time, "Don't take days for granted. I did not know I would have him for such a short time."

One day it could be us dropping flowers in the grave of a loved one. May we live from this day to that one with no regrets. Let all the "I love you," be said. Let all the time that can be cherished be cherished. Let all the memories be made that can be made. Take all the snap shots with your heart of those memories. One day it could be us in the grave with loved ones dropping flowers on us or us dropping flowers on someone we love.

 Life is fragile. I am reminded of that often as a pastor. Old people die. Young people die. Children sometimes die. Parents die as well as sons and daughters. Best friends also die. I hope this a sober reminder to live ready. To live ready to face eternity and judgement on any given day. Tyler trusted Jesus as his Savior and was ready. Being ready is not done by good deeds. It is done through a saving personal relationship with Jesus. See [Gal 2:8-9]. Get prepared before they are dropping flowers in your grave. Let those who are left behind to grieve you do so with the hope of a reunion. 

25 Voices

 People gathered from several different walks of life. Toddlers wobbled around falling often. Students gathered. Middle aged and senior adults were also present. They all gathered for one reason. One united purpose. Each skipped their normal gatherings for worship and Bible study. Why did they gather?

To sing. To be a 25 voice choir. Not in a cathedral. Not in a sanctuary or worship center. Not in an auditorium. They gathered outdoors. On driveways to sing to homebound people who are not able worship in person. They sang songs older than I am. Some sang quietly and reverently. Some sang so softly you could barely hear them. Others belted out the notes with zealous enthusiasm. Some sang with beautiful ear pleasing voices. Some struggled to find the right pitch. A joyful noise of worship sounded from a 25 voice of choir. 

The mission was clear. To sing for Jesus and minister joy and hope to some who are confined due to health concerns. Smiles were shared. Even virtual hugs. Testimonies exchanged. Tears fell. There were shouts of joy and even some applause. 

They sang songs like Because He Lives, There Is Power In The Blood, When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder and many other old favorites . 

Those amateurish 25 voices were a blessing. They did not perform. They worshipped through song. They did not sing flawlessly. That was never the point. The point was to minister to others. To show up to a few of those who are out of sight but not out of mind. 

One person who received the ministry of song commented with misty eyes, "Thank you. We are used to being on the other side of such ministry." Because of ongoing health concerns and the pandemic they find themselves isolated but not forgotten. They have been active servants ministering to others, but find themselves in the need of ministry. 

25 voices gave a little taste of heaven to some loved and missed people. 25 voices lifted the spirits of those battling disease and old age. 25 voices ministered joy to the listeners and pleased the heart of God at the same time. 

When His Love Broke Through

 I had a rare privilege of getting to host my spiritual father this past weekend. Let me explain. I invited the man who lead me to saving faith in Jesus to lead a workshop at Spring Creek this past weekend. I owe that man a debt I can never repay. My whole life changed because he courageously talked to me about Jesus, even though I was a complete stranger to him. Jesus saved me. His love broke through. 

It was a fall Thursday night in 1983. The few times I had attended any religious services made no great impact on me. I did not understand the full picture. I knew a few Bible stories. I even dabbled in the Bible on a few occasions. I did not connect all the dots. I could not see the full picture. I did not understand the gospel. The love of God had not broken through yet. 

God's love broke through when Eli shared the simple gospel message that Jesus died and rose again to pay the penalty for my forgiveness. God opened my spiritual eyes and brought understanding. It all made sense. The love of God seemed so real. For the first time in my life I understood why Jesus died on the cross. I jumped at the opportunity to be saved. God's love broke through years of confusion, sexual abuse, physical abuse, insecurity, anger, and pagan living. He made me a new creation that night. Old things passed away and I became new. A spiritual new birth. 

My whole life changed when God's love broke through. 37 years and seven months later that love is still breaking through like this morning in my devotion. You can read about that God encounter in the post titled, Who Am I?

His love overwhelms me. To this day, I do not fully understand it. He loved me when I did not love Him. He has continued to love me when I wandered from Him. He has loved me when I failed Him and disappointed Him. He loves me through my stubborn resistance to conforming to His image and will. He loves me in meaningful encounters. He loves me through life's ups and downs. He loves me when my faith is weak and fragile. He loves and restores me when I blow it. He loves me when He helps me succeed. 

I yearn for His love to breakthrough to others at Spring Creek and the surrounding community. I love for His love to breakthrough to the skaters at McGratton Park. I yearn to see His love breakthrough to the addicts, the down and out, the upwardly mobile, the celebrity, the obscure, to all races. May it breakthrough for you. He loves you. May that love overwhelm you like a downpour of a thunderstorm and breakthrough your heart. May His love engulf you. May His love transform you. 

Too Vanilla

 Vanilla is the most popular ice cream flavor in the world. In the United States, 17% of people prefer chocolate with 15% opting for vanilla. Every once in awhile you come across somebody who serves both flavors in a swirl. I love the swirl flavored cone. I just might have to get a swirl frozen yogurt today. I guess if you got right to it, I would be a vanilla guy myself. 

Vanilla is a classic. It will never go out of style as some other exotic flavors come and go. Vanilla is good. Basic. Widely revered. It is good. Except in the church. Let me explain. 

I am no longer talking about ice cream flavors. I am talking about racial diversity in congregations. Many fellowships are too vanilla. Meaning there are too many white people and not enough racial diversity. We have white churches and we have black churches and there are hispanic churches and so on. The worship hour across America is still segregated. 

Last night at the skate park we met a young man of color. He talked about his love of singing. We asked if he sang in the choir at the high school. He replied, "No. They sing boring songs like in a Baptist Church." That opened the door to talk to Silas (not his real name) about being saved. Silas was an interesting young man. He was into music, football, and skating. There were no other people of color at the park last night. 

Later I made the comment about a community being too vanilla. The more I ponder that fact I cannot get away from thinking about the church. You may attend worship gatherings where people of color frequently attend and are embraced. I am betting those fellowships are not the majority. 

We love to teach our children to sing Jesus Loves The Little Children. We chirp, red, yellow, black, and white, they are all precious in His sight. We love to sing it. Do we live that way? Do we worship that way?

I am so pleased in recent days God started adding people of color to Spring Creek. I can look out over the congregation and see other flavors of people than vanilla. I rejoice and praise God for this. I believe this is how it should be. 

Just ponder John 3:16. For God so loved the world....The world. Different nations and nationalities. Different skin colors. Different languages. Different cultures and different music. Heaven will be populated multiculturally. If the will of God is to be done on earth like it is in Heaven, then we are doing to have to get along and embrace different races. There will people in Heaven from every tongue, tribe, and nation. We will worship with them there. We might want to start getting used it to it down here. May God bring all the flavors of ethnic groups into His house. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that whoever believes should not perish but have everlasting life. [John 3:16]

Who Am I

Who am I? Matt Edwards. To be more specific, Jay Madison "Matt" Edwards. Matt was my great grandfather's name he went by, though he was named Madison. I was named after him. Now you know the rest of the story. 

I was born in Lufkin, TX. I nearly died at birth because something blocked my airway from breathing. I was taken for an emergency procedure to save my young life. God ordained my conception, birth, and living. 

 I grew up with a fierce passion for sports. I often played by myself. I set up an obstacle course in my back yard pretending I was a running back. I circled pine trees, jumped a wheel barrel, spun around the picnic table, dodged other imaginary tacklers and sprinted to the makeshift end zone. I played with my pitchback net fielding pop flies and grounders for hours. My grandfather gave me my first ball glove. What a treasured gift. He taught me to catch. 

I achieved some relative success in sports, but not in baseball. I could never hit. Sports was my passion. Football to be more specific. I hung on the Dallas Cowboys with Roger Staubach, Tony Dorsett, Robert Newhouse, Ed Jones, Randy White and Harvey Martin. 

 I met Jesus as my Savior in 1983 as a junior in high school. He made a way for me get a football scholarship and play football at Howard Payne University where I met the love of my life Brenda Ortiz. She has been my bride for 30 years now. He called me to preach the summer after I graduated high school. Howard Payne offered a Bible degree. 

I have served numerous churches in full time ministry. Mostly small churches in small towns. I tried to plant a church twice and failed miserably. Neither exists today. I wrote a few books that you will never find on a book shelf in a store. 

I am a husband and father of four. I am a pastor, author, revival preacher, and passionate follower of Jesus. 

Who am I? 

 I awoke to seek the LORD this morning in a recliner in the bedroom. I yearned for God to speak to me. I longed to hear from Him. A scripture came to mind. Along with the scripture the thought penetrated my mind, "Who are you? Who are you to seek the Lord?"

From reading Psalm 8, I am reminded God's name is the most majestic in all the earth. He has displayed His splendor in the heavens. The heavens are the work of his fingers with just a spoken word. He ordained the moons, stars and planets. In comparison, who am I to have audience with Him?

He is a great King. I am a peasant of no noble birth. He is Master. I am the servant. He is Creator. I am the creation. He is the Potter. I am the clay. He is Savior. I am the sinner who needed salvation. He is Teacher. I am the student. He is accomplished beyond comprehension. I am an ordinary unaccomplished person. I bring nothing to the table. He does not need me, but I most certainly need Him. 

Why would He ever desire audience with me? Who am I to come into His presence? It is mind boggling to think such a great God chooses to make Himself available and accessible to me. To us. 

The weight of those thoughts ushered me to great humility to ask myself again, "Who am I?" 

Why would God ever be interested in anything I have to say? Why would He ever listen or consider my requests? I am so ordinary and He is so extraordinary. 

The Psalmist wrote in Psalm 8:4, What is man that you take thought of him, and the son of man that you take care of him.

The answer to the Psalmist's question and mine is even more mind bending. He chooses to love us and relate to us. That is hard to fully comprehend. He does not need us. God is self sufficient. Though we serve Him, He does not need anything that He cannot do for Himself. He loves us. Let that sink in. The Creator of the Universe loves us. He proved it. Read Romans 5:8 to see how. 

What a great reminder. Who am I? A child of God. Loved, redeemed, wonderfully and fearfully made, forgiven, a grace recipient of grace and mercy, and one welcomed to come to the throne of grace. The truth of it all overwhelms me. I hope it does the same for you. Child, you are loved by Your Heavenly Father. Who are you? His child, if you have repented of sin and trusted Jesus as Savior.