Am I Doing Enough?

It's hard to believe it's almost been a year since I started working toward my Master's of Ministry degree through Crown Seminary. I am nearing the completion of my second course. I've only got one more assignment to complete and should have that finished by tomorrow. It took me a month longer than expected because of Thanksgiving and Christmas being in the middle of it all. I've really been buckled down these past 3 weeks trying to get it finished though and I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.

One of the great things about taking these classes is the way that I am challenged Spiritually. I guess digging so deep into God's Word and doing all of the assignments has a way of opening my mind more. Today I was reading one of the required books, "Following Christ and Fishing For Men," by Clarence Sexton, and it really caused me to do some soul searching. Read on...

I've been involved in church ministry for many years as a music minister, Sunday school teacher, and preacher of the Gospel. I wish I could work in the ministry full-time and not have to worry with my secular job because the only time I'm truly happy is when I'm doing things for the Lord. Hopefully, if it's God's will, after I finish Seminary I can make some changes.

I have a burden and love for my fellow church members. All through my day I'm thinking about them and wondering how they are getting along. We have several members that are going through different health issues and I worry and pray for them constantly. If one of our regular members misses a service I sit and wonder if something has happened to them, if they are sick, or some other problem. I suppose all of this is well and good but one thing that I believe I have been lacking in is reaching out to folks outside of the church. Oh sure, if it is convenient for me I will witness to someone but I don't purposely go about seeking for lost people to witness to. I suppose I've always felt that as long as I was working inside of the church then I was doing my part.

Well, like I said, after reading this recent book, I've really been convicted of not fulfilling the Great Commission as well as I could be. One example in the book was how Jesus went out of His way to witness to people. He didn't necessarily go where it was convenient. Just like in a recent message I preached, Jesus sought people out. I don't think I've been doing enough seeking. It is my full intention to change that and try to do a better job. It is awfully easy to hide behind the pulpit and preach to folks that mostly claim to be saved as opposed to going out and taking that message to a lost and dying world.  

So, you pray for me that I'll do God's will in my life. That's all I really want anyways. How about you? Are you saved? If you aren't, would you please listen to THIS MESSAGE? If you are, are you following God's will for your life? Are you doing your dead-level best for the Lord? If not, how about joining me in fulfilling the Great Commission?

Read more...

Tug's Redneck Olympics

Like I mentioned earlier, we don't get snow around here much anymore, so when we do, we go completely nuts. Today was no different. When the kids said they wanted to go outside and slide in the snow, my mind started thinking in overtime! I looked out in the garage and saw my neglected Jon Boat and it was like a revelation from Heaven...I thought, "Tug, you need to hook that boat up to the back of your 4x4 and pull the kids up and down the driveway!" So...

Read more...

I scream, you scream, we all scream for SNOW CREAM!

We were really excited last night to get to make some snow cream. This area of East, TN hasn't had any significant amounts of snow in quite some time. (We all blame Al Gore.) So, when we were blessed with several inches of the stuff last night, we decided it was time for some old-fashioned snow cream just like mom used to make.

Here is the recipe:
1-can of cream (evaporated milk for you non-Southerners)
1-cup of sugar
1-tbs of vanilla extract
10-cups of clean snow from the hood of your car!

Stir the cream, sugar, and vanilla together until smooth. Slowly stir in the snow a little at a time. Mix well until everything is nice and smooth and creamy, like ice cream. Then eat that stuff like it's going outta style!

Below are the results of our snow cream:

Read more...

A drift back into time

I wrote the following update on my Facebook account today and thought I'd share it on Tug's Life as well:

Byron Chesney My mind just drifted back to August of 1977 when I was 10-years old, walking barefoot and shirtless up Maloneyville Rd after an afternoon rain shower. The smell of honeysuckles and hot pavement penetrate my nostrils as the sound of an old Southern Railway train rumbled through the thick mass of blackberry bushes while rounding the corner by old man Kruegers farm. Man, I wish I was back there again...

Read more...

Overwhelmed

I don't know if you have a Facebook account or not but ever since I started one over a year ago, I have connected with many friends and family members. It is so great to read about what other people are doing and share things with each other. I know Facebook gets a bad rap but it is just like anything else, you can use it for good or for bad. I choose to use it for the good. I get to interact with fellow church members, post pictures, links, and other things with people with the same interests.

Just recently, I was sent a message from Betty, one of my Facebook friends, that used to be a friend and classmate of my sister Pam. Pam had played the organ at her wedding and she had a picture of her that she said she could send me. I was so thrilled today when Mary brought the mail in and she said, "you've got something here, but I don't know what it is." I knew exactly what it was! I eagerly opened up the padded envelope and took out the contents. There inside was one of the best pictures of my sister Pam that I had ever seen. It captures so much of her. It was taken on July 3, 1981, she was 18-years old. It makes me sad to look at it but overwhelmed at the same time. I am so thankful to have this picture and even more thankful to have such fond memories of my late sister.

If you have a Facebook account, look me up.

Read more...

One Tired Tug

I reckon I am doomed to always have something stupid happen when I take a business trip. This time was no exception. Along with my previous post, let me tell you about my return trip home...

I was up till almost 4:00 AM the night before I had to fly out of Newark and I got up at 8:30 and headed to the airport. My flight wasn't scheduled until 12:59 but with typical New York traffic and going through security at the airport, I left early enough to make sure all went smooth. Good thing I did... 

The traffic was light for New York and I got to the airport in 25 minutes as opposed to the usual hour it takes (according to the taxi driver.) I guess I wasn't thinking real clear that morning. First I went through the first security point and realized I hadn't checked my bag so I had to go back through, check it and then go through again. Then after passing through the last security point and x-ray, I was walking down the aisle toward my gate and realized my boarding pass and passport was missing. I walked backwards through the security line which caused a major interruption in the airport. "You need to go back the other way sir!!!" the TSA agents yelled at me. I held up my hands and said, "but, but, I don't have my passport or boarding pass!" They questioned me thoroughly, made me take off my shoes, shirt, empty my laptop bag, etc.. They kept asking, "are you sure you had it with you?" Duh, I had to have it or I wouldn't have gotten as far as I did through security already. So, then they made me wait outside of a security office while they reviewed security tapes of the airport. I sat out there while a TSA agent stared at me like I was some kind of criminal or crazed lunatic, which I probably looked like one because I was really freaking out at that point. After a few minutes passed by, an agent came out of the office and asked me to come into the office. There they had the whole ordeal on tape. I stood and watched myself go through the security line holding my passport and boarding pass in my hand and then I saw something I couldn't believe. Stupid me, placed my boarding pass and passport into the empty bin that once held my shoes and then place another bin on top of it and just walked off. I felt so stupid!

So, the TSA folks had to go through all of the plastic bins in the area that I had went through. They found it! Praise the Lord! I tell you what. I had all of these news headlines flashing through my mind of how some idiot shut down Newark airport and delayed thousands of passengers for hours. I'm just thankful that it all ended okay, well, except for my pride.

I guess the lesson I learned was not to trust my judgment when I am really tired. I don't reckon I've ever had anything like that happen to me before in my 43-years on this earth. It was a tough lesson. You can't imagine how good it felt to get home and have my wonderful family greet me at the door with hugs and kisses. It just made everything better.

Read more...

Tug just doesn't fit in

Warning, this post is not for folks that like or love New York City. You might as well visit another blog because everything I'm gonna say here is just going to make you mad. You've been warned.

Well, it was bound to happen and it finally did. Here I sit, smack dab in the middle of Manhattan on the busiest street in the entire city...unreal. Yep, I had to come up here for a trade show.

I have never, ever, ever wanted to visit New York City. There ain't a thing in the whole blasted place I care to see. Tall buildings don't impress me. Gaudy landmarks do nothing for me. The 8.3 million whiny, pushy, angry people disgusts me. The 10,000 taxi cabs nauseate me. The "church" of Scientology that I have to pass by every day sickens me. As far as I'm concerned they can take this whole ugly place and flush it down the toilet where it would fit right in.

In my defense (not that I need to defend myself because this is my blog and not yours) I've got a pretty bad cold; coughing, sneezing, runny nose, headache, burning eyes, scratchy throat and on top of all of that (not to be gross, but...) got diarrhea and cramping stomach today. I started out trying to look on the bright side and look for things to like about this place. Well, I gave up on that shortly after. There ain't one thing I like about this place. Wait, I take that back... the one thing I like about it is that I DON'T LIVE HERE!!! I even tried to see some good in the people here. That got squashed after some clown jumped in front of me after I had hailed a cab to get back to the hotel from the convention center. Throw in the jerk in the hotel elevator that said "there's one in every crowd" after I stuck my suitcase in the closing door so I could get on. Oh, and the little angry woman in the restaurant last night that was yelling and screaming at the waiter just because he didn't bring the kind of bread that she liked. Plus all of the pushy, nose in the air, suit wearing, "I'm better than you" people that apparently think I am invisible. Man, I can't wait to get outta this stinking place.

I was trying to see what was near the hotel so I pulled up a Google map and low and behold the map shows some idiot walking around in his underwear with cowboys boots, hat, and a guitar. (yes, I know what he is called but I don't want his name on my blog.) I think that pretty much tells you what kind of place this is. I don't fit in.

Read more...

The proof is in the pictures!

Okay, so here's proof! Even after 30 years, my older cousin Danny continues to torment me! Ever since we reconnected last year, I knew it was just a matter of time before he reverted back to his evil ways. Oh sure, he acts all sweet and innocent but the minute you turn your back....watch out! A head lock, a small package, a body slam, or any number of submission holds, he'll strike when you least suspect it.

In all seriousness, I had a great time tonight when Danny and Drama came over to our house for a visit. We ate, told stories, laughed, and just had great fellowship. It's such a shame that we allowed so many years to pass between us.

Read more...

A rural treasure

You can't choose where you are born and that's a fact. Every now and then I think about that and am thankful that the good Lord saw fit to allow me to be born and raised in one of the greatest places in the world. Oh sure, if you are one of them high falutin' folks, you probably look down your narcissistic nose at me and where I come from. That's okay, I'm glad not everyone has the same tastes because if'n we did, we would all be bunched up together in one spot.

I'm right proud of my neck of the woods with all of it's hills, creeks, ponds, barns, fences, and railroad tracks. When I was a young feller I never once thought about going to a far off place or visiting exotic locations because in my mind I lived in the most wonderful place on earth. Once I stepped through the back screen door of my parent's little 4-room cinder-block house my possibilities were endless and my imagination was unlimited. I could head off in any direction, North, South, East, or West and discover the most fascinating things.

If I headed south I would cross the road, climb over the fence, cross through the cow pasture, balance myself over the railroad tie bridge that spanned Roseberry creek, and I would be standing on a long stretch of railroad tracks. I could spend hours walking the rails, picking up shiny rocks, looking for discarded railroad spikes, it was a virtual wonderland. I would make my way down the tracks and end up at the railroad trestle that crossed the creek where cows would gather to drink. I would jump in the water to cool off on a hot August afternoon. Or drop a fishing line from a cane pole baited with a wiggly red worm or kernel of corn. I spent many hours of my life in that spot. We never went to a public swimming pool because we always had the creek to play in. Besides, swimming pools didn't have rocks, snakes, fish, and crawdads like the creek did, which was all the things necessary to occupy my mind.

Behind my parent's house was the 11-acres that my papaw Chesney owned. All I had to do was walk through the backyard and through the homemade wooden gate that my dad had built in the fence row. I would cross the wide flat patch of ground that used to bubble when it rained. Dad always said there were sink holes under the ground. Once I passed that spot I would be in the woods walking the worn trails that we used to get back and forth from our house to the large garden that dad shared with papaw on top of the hill. It was in those woods that all of us kids would spend hours on end playing and camping out. It was far enough away from my parents house to feel like we were a long way off but yet not so far that we couldn't hear the gravels underneath car tires if someone came to visit. If we were needed at the house my parent's could just walk out in the backyard and yell real loud. If we didn't answer back they would blow the car horn and you better believe we would come running then!

I was fortunate that most of the houses in my neighborhood belonged to family members. I could walk forever through yards and woods without the worry of somebody getting mad that I was trespassing. Of course trespassing was one of my favorite activities anyway. My best friend Kevin lived just a mile up the road and we either road our bikes or walked the road or railroad tracks to get to each others houses. We had the best childhood imaginable. How I wish my children could experience what it was like to live in those times. We never worried about being abducted or molested or anything like that. I guess it was the age of innocence.

Well, I'm not sure why I wrote all of that. Just had a lot of stuff on my mind and thought I'd jot it down. One of these days I'll probably be too old to remember all of these wonderful memories and I'll have to sit around reading about it.

Read more...

I'll let you go first Tug!

This weekend we got some snow here in East, TN. We normally don't get any until Jan, Feb, or March, so it was kind of a surprise. I spent some time outside playing in the snow with my kids. It brought back a ton of childhood memories from when I used to play in the snow, especially with my cousin Danny. Let me tell you about one of those times...

It was probably around 1978, when I was 12-years old. We used to have some pretty big snows back then. This time in particular we had well over a foot of the stuff lying on the ground. Lucky for us kids we grew up in hilly East, TN. My papaw owned 11 or 12 acres of farm land and there was a huge hill on one side of it. We just called it "the hill." I spent many hours hiking up and down that hill from our property to the large garden that was located at the top of the hill. I also used to love to sit on a big rock that was about 3/4 of the way to the top and look out at the beautiful landscape. So, getting back to the story... like I said, we got a pretty big snow. Well, we always used to sled down the hill whenever we had the chance. Usually we would use some old car inner tubes. This time Danny came up with a brilliant idea. "You know Tug, the best sled in the world is an old Volkswagen car hood," he said. "Really?" I asked. "Sure," said Danny. So, we set about finding us a VW car hood. There just happened to be an old junked VW in the woods so we removed the hood and pulled it to the top of the hill. This is where things get interesting...

"I'll let you go first Tug!" Danny said. That sounded like a fine plan to me and I was appreciative that my older cousin was thinking of me and giving me first turns. Danny held the sled and I climbed onto it, settling down on the backside. We had tied a rope on the front of it so we could pull it around and I took the rope in my hands, sorta like holding the reigns on a horse. "Okay Tug, I'll give you a big shove." Danny got behind me and pushed me as hard as he could. That VW hood took off on the snow like a greased pig. I was sailing down the hill at top speed. If you remember, I said that my papaw owned "farm land." Well, part of having a farm is having cows. Part of having cows is having barbed wire fences. So, naturally, there were several fences on papaw's land. I reckon being 12-years old, I didn't think much further than the next 2 steps I would take. That barbed wire fence at the bottom of the hill never crossed my mind until about half way down when I saw it rushing forward to meet me. "Oh no!" I screamed. There was no slowing that hood down. It was inevitable that I was going to hit that barbed wire fence at full speed. I never even thought about jumping off, I was too terrified. I know it could have only been seconds that I was sledding down that hill but in that tiny time span I must have imagined a million different things, mostly how I was probably gonna die a bloody and painful death.

I don't know if you've ever rammed a barbed wire fence at 60 mph while sitting on a Volkswagen hood or not, but let me tell you, it's an experience you'll never forget. The tip of the hood sat just high enough to go over the bottom strand of wire. The hood managed to slide completely through the fence raking me off the back of it and depositing my body in the middle of the fence. As I hung there sideways with a hundred, tiny, sharp barbs sticking in my skin, my cousin Danny was laughing and running down the hill towards me. When he finally reached me and asked me if I was okay, all I could think was, "now I know why he wanted me to go first!"

Those were the days my friend. I wouldn't trade those fun times for anything in the world.

Read more...

Chips off the old block

Today was Youth Sunday at our church. The young people filled all of the leadership positions; taught classes, lead singing, sang specials, and brought the message. I was proud of all of them of course but I was extra proud of my children. My daughter Jess taught our Sunday school class and she did an excellent job. Matthew brought a devotion before Sunday school and he and Liz sang Amazing Grace during the service. I didn't have to do anything except sit back and enjoy watching my children demonstrate a life of being raised in a Christian home. I felt really blessed.

Read more...

It's a family tradition!

It's been a while since I wrote anything on Tug's Life. I've been so busy it ain't even funny. I'm struggling with seminary work this semester. I've got so much stuff going on at work and church that it is really hard for me to get my focus back. I know I'll dive into it eventually. I doubt I'll make my planned finish date of December 30th though.

I have to go back to stupid Las Vegas this weekend for the G2E tradeshow. I've been the past 4 years in a row and frankly I'm sick to death of it. None of the other application engineers have attended a single tradeshow since I started with the company 5 1/2 years ago. Considering I'm the only one that has a spouse, children living at home, taking college classes, and working a second job, it doesn't seem right to me. Not only does it interfere with my family life but also my church life, worship activities, and study time. Not to mention I totally despise Las Vegas and everything it represents. I don't gamble or participate in all of the lewd activities that go on in that God forsaken city and I would rather be chained and beaten with a whip than to attend the "team" dinners.... I better quit talking about it because I'm getting so mad I can hardly stand it.

So, on to the reason I started writing this post...

The other day my mother took some pictures in her Sunday school class at Union Baptist, where my dad is a teacher. I couldn't help but notice how much we resemble each other. I found a picture of myself teaching my Sunday school class at Highland and then I remembered one of my son teaching my Sunday school class as well. So, I rounded them all up and placed them all in this post.

And, here is one of us at the Coffee & Christ fellowship that we had at my church this past Saturday.

Read more...

I was wrong

For the past 43-years I have been doing something that I shouldn't. I'll go ahead and confess that until this year I have never felt convicted of it. In fact, I've bragged about NOT feeling convicted of it before. Even at this time last year I was boasting of it, along with my entire family.

Now, bear in mind that what I'm about to tell you, you may not agree with, and that's fine. It may not be wrong for you, who am I to say? I can only tell you my feelings about it and why I feel convicted of it. So, here goes...

Hallowe’en. The eve of All Hallows’ or All Saints’ Day celebrated the last night of October. In the Old Celtic calendar the year began on November 1, so that the last evening of October was the night of all the witches, which the Church transformed into the Eve of All Saints. Source: The Oxford English Dictionary.

When I was a young child growing up, we always celebrated Halloween. We didn't worship Satan or conjure up spirits or anything like that, no, we simply dressed up in masks (false faces) and went to our neighbors and families houses to trick-or-treat. Just innocent stuff. We never ever related the holiday to anything Satanic. It was just a fun time for us kids to get a bunch of candy and to scare each other with our costumes. I carried this same tradition to my family. My oldest daughter is 16, almost 17 and we have brought her up celebrating Halloween. We dressed her up in different costumes; princesses, different animals, witches, etc... it was all just in fun. We did the same as I did as a kid, trick-or-treating at our families houses. Just last year our whole family dressed up in scary outfits and had a big time of it.

So, what is different now you ask? Let me explain... I guess it started with observing the teen sensation that is sweeping our land with the Twilight series of books and movies. I have noticed how our teenagers have become obsessed with anything Vampire related and supernatural. These things affect the way they are dressing, wearing their hair, talking, and thinking. What seems like an innocent thing, really isn't very innocent at all. They are glorifying things that God calls an abomination. Don't believe me? Look at Deuteronomy 18:9-13:

9 When thou art come into the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not learn to do after the abominations of those nations.
10 There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch,
11 Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.
12 For all that do these things are an abomination unto the LORD: and because of these abominations the LORD thy God doth drive them out from before thee.
13 Thou shalt be perfect with the LORD thy God.

Yes, I realize that was written under the Law of Moses for the Jewish people, however, the Bible says that God sees these things as an abomination. That has nothing to do with the law, that is God's thoughts. God's thoughts do not change regardless of the Law or when it was spoken. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. If He thinks these kind of things are an abomination then I have to see them that way as well. God hates these things so much that he destroys those that practice them. Look at 2 Kings chapter 21 and Exodus 22:18 for proof!

So, as for myself, a born again child of God, a confessed believer in Christ, a preacher of the Gospel, how can I glorify things that God says is an abomination? I CAN'T!!! Please don't try to tell me about the origins of Halloween and how it used to be a day to reverence the dead, I'm fully aware of it's origins, but that has NOTHING to do with how Halloween is celebrated today. Read more about this HERE.

I know it seems like no big deal to most people. Folks decorate their yards and adorn their homes with signs and symbols of witchcraft, demons, and Satanic symbols. How do you think God feels about this? These same folks that practice this type of behaviour are the same folks that profess to be Christians. Just the other day we drove by a house and my youngest daughter (9-years old) looked out the car window and started crying. On the lawn were life-sized zombies, vampires, witches, and all sorts of creepy things. She had nightmares about those things for days after seeing them. She couldn't understand why anyone would put such things in their yard for little girls to see. It was difficult trying to calm her down and explain to her why people do those things.

I will fully admit that I used to be one of the world's worst. I loved Halloween. I loved scary costumes. I loved horror movies. I had hundreds of dollars worth of the awfullest, bloodiest, goriest horror movies you have ever seen. I had them all; Halloween, Friday 13th, SAW, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Scream, etc... I have since destroyed all of those movies. I did not want them in my home any longer. It was like a scene from Acts 19:18-20 when the folks at Ephesus burned all of their curious arts and books after Paul had preached the Gospel to them!

So, my family and I will not ever be celebrating Halloween anymore. Instead, we are starting a new tradition; a Fall party. We are preparing a bunch of things to eat; chocolate fudge, peanut butter fudge, cheeseball, cheddar and bacon tater skins, chicken-n-biscuit crackers, etc.. just a bunch of junk like that and we are going to spend time together at home as a family. We are going to watch one of my favorite movies, Ben Hur, instead of the usual Horror movie. If you come by our house to trick-or-treat, we will give you something. It may be a can of soup or whatever we have in the house but you will also be presented with a Bible tract.

I'm looking forward to our new tradition!

Read more...

Now let us...

I posted this audio/video clip on Facebook so someone could hear my family singing. This is my 2 sisters and my mother and me singing, Have A Little Talk With Jesus. This was recorded in the mid to late 1990's. The picture I have with it was taken in the Summer of 1973 and it is of me and my 2 sisters.

Singing is, Pam on lead and playing the piano, Jennifer singing soprano, Mom singing alto, and myself singing bass.

Read more...

Gonna hold who needs holding

Have you ever stopped to think about just how short life is? I sure have been thinking about it lately. Back in the book of Genesis, chapter 6 and verse 3, God said this: "And the LORD said, My spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh: yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years." Also, if you look in the oldest book of the Bible, Job, chapter 14 verse 1, it says: "Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble." Over in the New Testament in the book of James, chapter 4 verse 14, it says: "Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away."

So, we are not guaranteed a long life and we can rest assured while we are here it will be full of trouble and will seem but just a vapour to us when our time comes to an end. We should really think about what we are doing with our time while we are here. In my sermon last night at church, I made mention that the only thing that matters while we are here on earth are the things that we do for Christ. The pastor said essentially the very same thing in his sermon yesterday morning.

The picture at the beginning of this post is of me and my aunt Barbara. It was taken this past Saturday at a surprise birthday party that we had for her at my aunt Brenda's house. This picture means a lot to me. It seems like only yesterday that I was a little kid visiting her house on DeMarcus Ln off of Greenway Drive. She used to teach my sisters piano. She also taught me for a while but being a little rambunctious boy, I found it hard to sit still on the piano bench long enough to learn. I can remember that Barbara always kept a bowl of mints at her house. I would carefully lift the lid of the crystal candy dish she would keep it in and get one out and pop it in my mouth and let it melt on my tongue. It was a big treat for me. Usually my mom would end up telling me to quit eating up all of Barbara's candy!

Back in those days, Uncle Chester (Barbara's husband) ran Greenway Tire Co. I used to love to go down there and visit while he worked. He would buy me a cold Mountain Dew out of the coke machine. I really felt like a big man on those days.

Nowadays Barbara plays the piano at our church, Highland Baptist, and Chester works in the sound room. I always have people telling me that I do such a good job leading the music at church but what they don't realize is, without Barbara I wouldn't be worth a hill of beans! She painstakingly lowers each piece of music for me so I can lead it. She also helps me out when learning new music.

Barbara was diagnosed with cancer last year and she has been going through so many problems and treatments. We have been praying for her daily. Just as with my sister Pam, I don't understand why certain people have to go through things like this. I do know that it builds faith in God. I hope and pray that when it's all said and done with that I can be like Job and say, "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD." But, until that day comes "I'm gonna hold who needs holding, mend what needs mending, walk what needs walking, though it means an extra mile, pray what needs praying, say what needs saying, Because we're only here for a little while." - Billy Dean

Read more...

Time to man up

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things." - 1 Corinthians 13:11 

It's been a while since I posted on Tug's Life. It is Monday, October 12, 2009, at 11:55 PM. I tried going to bed early (early for me) but couldn't go to sleep. I normally stay up till 1:30 or 2:00 at night studying until my eyes glaze over. Then I stick the ear buds in my ears and go to sleep listening to a sermon on my Mp3 player. I usually make it through about 15 minutes of a sermon and fall asleep. Some nights I get so excited about the sermon that I lay awake and listen to the whole thing though. But, tonight I was lying there listening to a great sermon by Pastor Sexton and my stomach wasn't feeling too great so I just got up, fixed me a cheese sandwich (yes that calms my stomach) and thought I'd study or blog, or work on my upcoming Coffee & Christ meeting that I'm having at church next month. As you can tell, I'm starting out by blogging.

I've got a lot of stuff going on lately. As I mentioned in my last post, I started my second Seminary course, Advanced New Testament, and that takes up most of my spare time. Of course 10 hours of my day is spent driving to work, working at the office, and driving back home. My job is extremely stressful and by quitting time I'm usually at my breaking point. I won't say anything negative about my occupation because I am grateful to be employed so lets just leave it at that... Church work takes up a lot of time as well but it is something that I love and enjoy and feel is meaningful.

For a long time I have had a huge burden for the families of our church and community. I look around on Sunday mornings and see so many empty pews and my heart breaks for those folks that don't seem to place church very high on their list of important things to do. They say they are Christians, and they join the church and say they belong to the church but yet you never see them. Some of these folks have children that are not saved. Those are the ones I worry about the most. As bad as our world has become (especially under the current president) families need Christ in their lives more than ever. They need the basic building blocks and a firm foundation to stand on. According to my Bible, the man is the head of the household (Ephesians 5:22-33). As I have posted and preached, it is the man's responsibility to see that his family follows the Biblical commandment to worship God and read the Scriptures (Deuteronomy 6:1-9). This is where men have to stand up and be men. It's time to quit messing around and being wishy-washy. The responsibility that men have to their families should be the most important thing in our lives other than our personal relationship with Christ. I can say this with full authority. There was a time in my life that I lost sight of that and nearly saw my family destroyed. It can happen to you before you know it. It is only by God's grace that we were able to survive. I don't want to see others make the same mistakes.

Our children today need a strong Christian upbringing so they know the difference between right and wrong. When the President of the United States doesn't even know right from wrong by the way he embraces sodomy, sodomites, murder, alcoholism, anti-Christianity, and no telling what else, we are in deep, grave danger. That's why we men must take control of our families, bring our children to church, teach them Scripture and give them the armor necessary to stand and fight for their lives.

So there you have my little mini sermon for the night. I knew there was a reason I couldn't go to sleep!

Read more...

Still pressing on...

I  was finally able to pick up the books today for my second seminary course, Advanced New Testament. I took a little over a month off between courses and it feels like it's been years since my last one. I am really excited about digging in.

My course outline this time is the following:

1. Read the entire New Testament
2. Prepare a conprehensive Advanced Old Testament Notebook
3. Read volumes I and II of Scroggie's "Unfolding Drama of Redemption"
4. Read Sexton's "Earnestly Contend for the Faith"
5. Read Sexton's "The Parables of Jesus" Volumes I and II
6. Read Sexton's "Following Christ and Fishing for Men"
7. Listen to and take notes on the 9 audio sermons in Sexton's "Introduction to Advanced Old Testament"
8. Complete the 32 course assignments in the Advanced Old Testament Notebook

My goal is to complete this course by December 30th, 2009. Keep me in your prayers that I'll be able to do everything I need to do.

Read more...

Precious memories sealed forever

Last night while I was preaching a sermon at church about Eternal Security, I was talking about the sealing of the Holy Spirit and as often happens, my mind drifted back to my childhood days. I compared Jesus sealing us with His Holy Spirit with the way my mother used to seal canned vegetables. I recalled how we used to sit around and listen to the Kerr lids seal on those old Ball jars. I was amazed at how much detail just flooded through my mind about how my mom would can. If I sit here right now with my eyes closed and think real hard, I can almost smell the different scents and feel the steamy hot kitchen from my childhood home.

All of this made me realize how different things are nowadays. My kids don't know a thing about canning vegetables. Where we live the ground is not suitable for a garden so we just buy our vegetables. We rarely ever bought store canned vegetables when I was growing up. Seems we always had green beans, tomatoes, tomato juice, corn, and of course, pickles. It was always my job to help shuck corn, string green beans, shell peas, dig taters and stuff like that. Dad grew and picked the vegetables and Mom prepared them.

Some scenes that unfold in my mind are of a large pressure cooker shooting steam from the top. Watching the little round pressure regulator dance around on top of the pot and imitating the pshhh, pshhh, sound it would make. Dish towels spread out on the kitchen counter with Ball jars sitting on top of them. Listening to the "tink" sound that the Kerr lids would make when the jars would seal. Man, those were some good times back then but of course I didn't realize it at the time. What I would give to be able to go back in time to those precious days. Sitting barefooted around the kitchen table playing with plastic cowboys and indians, while my mother worked away canning as she listened to radio broadcasts on WKXV radio. Dad in a white t-shirt with red clay dirt stains mixed with sweat, chasing flies around the house with a fly swatter. Pam in the living room banging away on the piano keys. Jennifer with her thumb in her mouth, dragging her tattered blanket around, scratching the silky edges with her finger. I hope my kids have such fond memories.

Read more...

For all you listeners out there in radio land...

I was tickled to death to get my hands on an old cassette tape of my papaw, Edd Spencer, doing a WKXV radio broadcast back in 1954. I'm not sure where my aunt June got the tape but she loaned it to my mother and I brought it home and connected my stereo to my computer and used some audio editing software to clean up the tape hiss and voila! I am amazed at how good this tape sounds after 55-years! As a bonus feature, there is a quartet that sings on it and my other papaw, Lorn Chesney, is singing the bass part in it. Man, this is the kind of thing I live for!

Well, enough of my blabbering, if you want to listen to the broadcast, just click on the play link below:

Read more...

There's No Place Like Home

It was coming down to the end of the fiscal year at work and I still had a week's vacation to take. I had to either take them or lose them so, naturally, I took them. We didn't really have big vacation plans or much money to do anything but I had 65,000 Marriott points I could use. We decided to blow 30,000 points by staying in the new Fairfield behind the Bass Pro Shops in Kodak for 2 nights and just do whatever comes to mind (on a limited budget).

We started off by going to Douglas Dam for a very nice picnic. Mary had fixed fried chicken, potato salad, deviled eggs, and had bought some of those pull-apart rolls. We ate like kings! We spent an hour or so taking pictures up around the lookout and then drove down to the base of the dam. There wasn't very many people out for a Saturday and we were very thankful for that. I guess we spent a little over an hour down by the dam taking pictures and goofing off and then we headed toward Sevierville.

By the time we got to the Parkway, traffic had really picked up. Two lines of cars as far as you could see were heading into Pigeon Forge. Making things doubly worse is all the road construction being done on the Parkway. I grudgingly took my place in the traffic and putted along with the rest of the idiots on the road. We finally ducked into one of our favorite places, the Christian Book Warehouse. We were in there for a long time browsing the books. I found a great buy in 3 used Westminster Larger Catechism books which are packed full of good sermon material.

Finally it got close to 3:00 and we were able to check-in at the Fairfield. Since it is a brand-new hotel everything was spotless and the carpet still smelled new. It was a nice place but our room was a little cramped for all 5 of us. We settled in and were just thankful that we weren't having to pay for our stay there. Mary had bought a DVD for us to watch while there, Race To Witch Mountain, which we thoroughly enjoyed. We find it really fun to turn out all the lights, close the curtains and watch a movie in a hotel room. It makes for some great family togetherness.

We didn't do a whole lot while we were up there. It was just way too crowded since it was Labor Day weekend. We packed up and checked out on Monday around 11:00 and headed back toward home. I came home the back way and we stopped off at Mascot Park which is only 7 miles from our house. We had more fun at the park than we did on our entire stay up in Sevierville. We started questioning why we even went up there considering we can't stand to be around a lot of people and we didn't have any money to spend. Oh well, live and learn I reckon. One thing is for sure, there's no place like home!

Read more...

Sue's Slippery Slide!

I forgot all about this little video clip that I uploaded on photobucket a few years ago. This is my mother sliding down a water slide in the backyard during the Spencer Family Reunion in 2006.

Read more...

She is not an animal

This post was originally written in February of 2008. It was updated on Aug. 27, 2009, and moved to the front page.

"She is not an animal, she's an angel!" That is what I wanted to scream out at the overdressed snooty looking lady standing just one isle over from us. I could see her pointing, gasping, and whispering to her husband. I looked at my precious little angel, with her arms wrapped around my wife’s neck. I couldn’t help but cry. “Oh God, are you punishing my daughter for something I have done?” I had not been the best husband and father for months leading up to her birth. I won’t go into the details in this post; lets just say I would not have won any husband or dad of the year awards.

Elizabeth Hope was born on July 14, 2000, at St. Mary’s Hospital in Knoxville, TN. She was a beautiful baby, and not just because she was my daughter, even the nurses at the hospital commented on how beautiful she was. My wife and I looked down at our little bundle of joy and thanked God for delivering her with such perfection. Liz was our 3rd baby, so this was nothing new for us.

A week after we had brought Liz home, we noticed a tiny red dot on her left cheek. “Hmm, wonder what that is?” We asked ourselves. We took her to a follow up doctor’s visit and the doctor noticed the red mark. He looked inside of her mouth. I could see something wasn’t quite right. The doctor called in a specialist. Now several people were looking at my daughter’s cheek. They pulled us aside. “What we think this is is a birth mark.” “A birthmark, well that isn’t so bad,” I thought. “However, it’s not a regular birthmark.” The doctor then went into explaining all the different types of birthmarks that babies can be born with. We were introduced to names that we had never heard of before. “This particular birthmark is called a Hemangioma. “Hemangi what?” I asked. He went into explaining in details how this Hemangioma worked. “Eventually, it’s going to fill completely up with blood, and she will have a tumor on the side of her face.” “Now hold on a minute, now it’s a tumor?” “Oh, it’s a benign tumor and it should eventually go away.” “We can’t really predict how long she will have it, maybe a couple of years, maybe longer.” He referred us to a specialist. This is when things got complicated.

We visited the specialist that we were referred to and he was a very nice doctor. He examined Liz very thoroughly. The diagnoses of a Hemangioma was correct. By now Liz’s cheek had gotten much larger. The whole left side of her face was swollen to the size of a baseball. You could count the blood vessels in her cheek that were straining just below the surface of her skin. The cheek was very hot to the touch. The doctor told us right up front that he had never witnessed a Hemangioma like the one she had. He consulted with some more specialists. Our daughter became a new entry in medical journals. The tumor encompassed the area from just underneath her left eye, all the way down to her chin. Her little lips were pulled in a downward fashion along with her eye. The specialist also validated that these things normally go away all by themselves in a few years. Again, he couldn’t give us a definite time, maybe a couple of years, maybe ten. He laid out our options. We could do nothing and hope it goes away. We could give her steroid treatments to reduce the size. Or, as a last result, we could opt for surgery. Surgery was not recommended due to the location of nerves and blood vessels around the tumor, there was a chance she could lose the ability to blink her eye, or move her lips or total loss of feeling in her cheek. We decided not to do the surgery. We went with the steroid treatments. This is when hell on earth began.

I’m sure you have heard of “Roid Rage” in athletes, but have you ever witnessed a 6-month old baby in a fit of steroid rage? It will rip your heart out. We could not predict when it was going to happen. We could be at the grocery store, sitting at home, or at a family member's house. Little Liz would fly into a rage that would put satan's and his demons to shame. She would sit in the floor and bang her head on the hardwood floors. She would scream bloody murder to the top of her lungs. She would be crying, screaming, and flailing all over the place. She had superhuman strength during these fits. We would try to hold her to keep her from hurting herself. It was all we could do to constrain her. Some of the worst times were when she would go into a fit while we were driving down the road. We could not keep her in her child safety seat. She would manage to break loose from it and would get in the floorboards and scream to the top of her lungs. We were at our wits end.

Eventually, the doctor weaned her off of the liquid steroids and we tried a new treatment, steroid injections straight into the side of her cheek. For this, she had to be put to sleep. We brought her to the Children’s hospital bright and early in the morning. The whole hospital staff treated us like royalty. Of course, we were scared to death and worried about our baby. The doctor explained the procedure while we stood by the bedside crying for our daughter. The whole ordeal was agonizing. Were we doing the right thing? Would she be okay? After about an hour, the doctor entered the room and informed us that everything went fine and that she would be in recovery for a while. We were so relieved. The injections worked for a while. Her cheek shrank down to almost normal size. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a permanent fix and eventually the tumor grew again, surpassing its original size. We went through another steroid injection after that and once again, it was only temporary. We still would not consider surgery.

Seeing Liz every day, we had gotten used to her big cheek. When we looked at her, all we saw was our sweet little angel. It wasn’t until we would go out into public that we realized just how bad it was. If I had a dollar for every stare, whisper, and mean comment that people made about my daughter, I could retire a very rich man. When a grown man or woman can come up to an innocent child, look at them in horror and ask, “honey, what in the world is wrong with your cheek?” it really lowers your respect and expectations of humans. Total strangers would approach us and make rude comments under the guise as being "concerned." Just a little tip for anyone reading this, NEVER, EVER approach a total stranger to inquire about some type of abnormality that they may or may not have. It is none of your business, and try to put yourself in their shoes. It is rude and totally unacceptable behaviour. As a little baby, Liz didn’t realize that people were being so rude. But, as she got older, the comments and stares would really hurt her. “Why do I have this big old cheek?” she would ask us. We would try to soothe her and tell her that she had a “special” cheek, and that she was perfect to us. We would lay in bed at night and cry and pray for her.

As the years passed by, her cheek slowly began shrinking. Not a lot, but some. On days it would look smaller and on others larger. We kept her out of school until she was 6-years old. We were hoping that the cheek would go down more in another year. Eventually, we had to send her to school though and we worried ourselves sick at how the other children would treat her. My wife went to the school to explain to her teachers about the cheek so that they would be more informed. Believe it or not, the children actually accepted Liz better than most adults. Oh a few kids made comments and wondered about her cheek, but as time went by, she made friends and they became oblivious to her cheek.

Elizabeth is now 7-years old and her cheek still has not gone down completely. It’s more noticeable when we see her in a mirror. I don’t know why, it just is. She doesn’t seem to be bothered by it right now. Of course all of that could change depending on life’s circumstances, but right now she seems happy. It certainly has not prevented her from making friends and she has 3 or 4 boys at school fighting over her and writing her love notes.

We still pray continuously that God will heal her and the cheek will shrink to normal size. Her cheek doesn’t affect the way we see her or diminish our love for her in any way. There are just so many obstacles in life already that we don’t want her to have one more to have to hurtle.

The reason I am sharing this story is because I know that there are other parents out there that are facing similar issues and you worry yourself sick. It does no good for me to tell you not to worry because I know you will anyway. But, just know that while we may not understand why things like this happen, we can rest assured knowing that our children are gifts from God. Each one is unique and special and we need to treasure them while we can.

UPDATE 8/27/2009: Well, I wish that I had good news to report, but I don't. Elizabeth's tumor has not went down much at all over the past year. We had to pull her out of public school this week and began homeschooling her. The cruelity of her classmates became too much for her. She came home every day crying her eyes out and went to bed crying. All we can do is hold her and tell her how much we love her while she sobs uncontrollably and asks us why she has to go through this? Classmates that she has been going to school with for the past 3 years are the worst ones. One boy, named Austin, has been going around the classroom puffing his cheek out and telling everyone he has a tumor and laughing hysterically about it while the other kids laugh along. Elizabeth is crushed. She has to endure constant teasing, stares, and rude comments from both her classmates and parent's of her classmates. We were hoping it wouldn't come to this but if she is going to survive with any self esteem, we must do this. We cannot force other parent's to do their job by parenting their children the correct way and we cannot go to her school and slap respect into her classmates.

We are going to make an appointment with another doctor that is supposed to be a specialist in children with hemangiomas and vascular birthmarks. We are still hoping she doesn't have to have traditional style surgery and maybe with the advancement of laser surgery something can be done. Please keep Elizabeth in your prayers as we go through this.

Read more...

Mat-tastic!

Watching my son ride his bicycle tonight reminded me of when I was a his age. I was rarely seen without my bike. He is just now learning to jump on ramps. Before you know it, he'll have 4 or 5 cinder-blocks under those boards and he'll be "little Tug Knievel!"

Read more...

Don't know what you've got til it's gone

I’m sitting here this evening thinking about the past. I probably shouldn’t be because I am really getting depressed. It began when I sat on the couch with my laptop and started going through my audio files. I started playing songs from the New Hope Trio, which was the group my sister Pam sang in when she was living. My two favorites on this particular album were ones that Pam sang the lead on: He’ll Do It Again, (which you can listen to from the video at the end of this post) and More Than Conquerors. She was so talented. It will be 7-years this December 16th since I last saw my sister. I still can’t figure out why God needed her so much that he would take her away so early in life. I fully intend to find out when I meet him. I realize the Bible tells me that his thoughts are not my thoughts and my ways are not his ways, but I can’t help but wonder why?

The other night my son and my youngest daughter were arguing and saying mean hurtful things to each other. I quickly told them they better be grateful for each other and show love to each other now because you never know when one might be taken away. I always thought I would have my big sister in my life. She was like a rock. I always knew I could count on her to be there when I needed her. I suppose I took her for granted. Of course hindsight is 20/20.

My oldest daughter, Jessica, has inherited several traits from Pam. Silly things like the way she takes glasses of things to drink into her room and leaves the glasses sitting around for days until she comes walking into the kitchen carrying an arm load of them to be washed. Some of her mannerisms and even her looks are a lot like Pam. I believe Jess could sing really good like Pam if she would just quit being so shy and put forth a little effort. Jess was only 8-years old when Pam passed away. She remembers her a little bit but not a whole lot.

Pam used to collect things too. She had an amazing cookie jar collection. Everything from very old antique jars to brand new ones. It was always easy to think of something to buy her for Christmas or birthdays because she would always love a cookie jar. She would display them around the top of her kitchen cabinets. There was about a foot and a half space between the tops of her cabinets and the ceiling and she had those things sitting all around up there. She also collected piano figurines and of course music and books.

One thing that I keep thinking about is when she was in the hospital at St. Mary’s. It was around Christmas time and I had bought her a Bay City Rollers CD as a present. I was so excited about giving it to her. The Bay City Rollers were her very favorite rock band back in the ‘70’s. She used to collect all of their albums, magazines, and anything else she could get her hands on. Well, I had found a new compilation CD of their biggest hits and bought it for her. I watched her open the present and she just went on and on about it and acted really excited about getting it. I didn’t know that she already had the exact same CD already. She never said a word about it. In fact, I didn’t know it until after she had passed away and we were going through all of her CD’s and I noticed she had 2 of them. I said something to Michael about it and he told me that she didn’t want to say anything about it when I gave her the one I bought her. That’s the way Pam was. She would go out of her way to keep from hurting anyone even if it meant she would be hurt in the process. I wish I were more like her.

I’m not sure why I wrote this post. I guess since I was sitting here bawling my eyes out listening to Pam, I thought I would try to relieve a little bit of the sadness by writing. It has seemed to help some.

Read more...

Two score and 3 years ago...

They say you are only as old as you act. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing... I turned 43-years old this past Monday, on August 3rd, or as the King James would say, two score and 3 years old! I still feel young in my mind but my body is feeling awfully old. My family has been really good to me this year. First, my aunt Barbara brought me a birthday cake and put it on the table of desserts at the Homecoming. My kids all made homemade birthday cards and decorated the house in my honor. My mother took me out to El Mezcal for lunch on Monday. My wife cooked my favorite meal of fried chicken, gravy biscuits, mac & cheese, and mashed potatoes, and she also fixed me an oreo/chocolate torte. I've been eating leftovers from that for the past 2 days. My sister, Jennifer, texted me to wish me happy birthday. Her and John and the kids are moving back to Winston-Salem from Arkansas. It will be good to have them closer. My brother, Josh, called me on the phone and wished me happy birthday. His birthday is also this month on August 9th. My uncle Jimmy's birthday was on August 4th, and my uncle Chester's is on the 8th of August. Several people, including my cousin Danny, has emailed me wishing me happy birthday. And, last but not least, my cousin Kim's birthday is the same day as mine, August 3rd. I tried to find an email address to email her happy birthday but I couldn't find one. I saw her last month at the family reunion though.

I'm still in between semesters at Seminary. I hope to start on Advanced New Testament next month. I was so glad that Charlie Lynch preached our Homecoming this past Sunday. He did a wonderful job, as usual. I reckon I would just as soon hear him preach as anybody I know. Church has not been going real smooth lately. We lost a couple of members recently and that has not set too well with me. It was something that could have been avoided. I hate to see anyone leave the church, especially over something that shouldn't have been an issue. Sometimes I have to wonder if the little bit that I try to do makes any difference? It would be nice sometimes to just be able to go to church, listen to the singing and preaching and go home without having to worry about all of the stuff going on in the background. You know, the way it was when I was a kid. But, I know that God didn't call me to be a bench warmer. It's all or nothing in my book. So, I'll keep on keeping on and pray for the best.

Read more...