Texas Baptists Committed - A Rancher's Rumblings, July 10, 2007

I suppose a few of you noticed I skipped last week—yep, didn’t write a word—just needed a break. I marvel at how local pastors come up with a sermon every week, and I am glad I do not have that challenge. I served as a pastor only once, but the demand to “say something fresh about Jesus” every week is a challenge, not because Jesus and the Bible do not have a lot to say, but because we humans just run out of energy.

A Failure to Communicate?
My trip to Washington, D.C., for CBF was a wonderful experience once I finally got there. I was supposed to arrive on Wednesday at 12:50 p.m.; however, I didn’t actually arrive until Thursday morning at 10:15, after spending one night in Dallas with no luggage. Speaking to the Texas CBF state meeting, I joked that, contrary to my “rough around the edges” reputation, I don’t make a habit out of wearing the same socks and underwear 2 days in a row. After making that comment, it took me a while to realize that some people were avoiding me because they thought I was serious about not having had time to clean up. In reality, though, I had cleaned up and changed clothes as soon as I arrived in Washington. Once again, I’m reminded of the importance of communicating clearly. I also was, to say the least, totally out of energy when I finally arrived in Washington.

At Home with Real Baptists
I like being with my CBF friends, because being with them reminds me that there are still real Baptists all over the country. They are more focused on grace than legalism; on freedom than the law; on missions than conformity. I feel at home when I’m with them.

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I think that an even more “at home” experience will be the New Baptist Covenant meeting in Atlanta next January. Not only will American Baptists worship and celebrate with us as they did in Washington, but so will Canadian Baptists and many other U. S. Baptist denominations, along with the historic African-American Baptist denominations. This event should truly be historic and exciting.

It was hot in Washington, but it was still enjoyable. On Saturday, I went to Cumberland, Maryland, and spent the day with friends whom I knew there when I served as a Home Mission Board summer missionary in 1972. We had a delightful time.

At the Mercy of Crazy Goats
My absence that week made last week a “catch up” week. It is never easy to be gone, especially when you realize the “catching up” you’ll have to face when you return.

My oldest son, Lance, and his wife, Rebecca, arrived here this past weekend. Having “labor” available to me, I set up the weekend to sell most (turned out to be all) of my current goats, as I have a new set being delivered this week. Most of my former goats were Spanish. I am replacing them with 450 African Boar “redheads.”

Spanish goats are crazy—not dumb like sheep, just crazy. I’m not sure why Jesus says, in Matthew 25, that we will all be divided, at the end of time, between those who are “dumb” and those who are “crazy,” but I’ll let a theologian figure that one out.

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We had heck getting them into the pens and, when we did, several climbed a mesquite tree at least 10 feet high; one huge billy goat tried to jump the fence and got his leg caught in it. I held his horns while my brother-in-law worked him free of the fence. Then he proceeded to run over me; push me to the ground (as I refused to let go of him), which took the hide off of both of my elbows; and, finally, step on my face and my arm, leaving huge bruises.

By the end of the day, my energy was gone again, sapped by heat, old age, and crazy goats.

So What Have I Learned?
A few days later, I reflected on the week, and I have come to the following conclusions:

I need to let my sons come home sometimes without expecting them to work the entire time they are here. That’s not easy for me to do, but I need to try. Foy Valentine always urged me to make my sons work, but I realize that I need to play with them, too, even as adults.
Animals are a lot like people in that, even when you’re trying to help them, they are scared and will often fight to keep you from helping them.
If the preacher does not have something profound to say every single Sunday, we need to cut him or her some slack; neither do I have something profound to say every week, and neither do you.
When it’s hot and you are getting older, you need to learn to pace yourself. Some things can wait ‘til next week or even next month.