Let Me Have Christmas!
It was one of the most unusual funerals I ever conducted. The deceased woman had converted to Judaism when she married her Jewish husband. He had long since died and as she grew older she had a strong desire to return to the Christian faith of her youth--and she did. I took her confession in a hospital room and we cried together tears of joy.
But her family connections were now strongly Jewish and I was asked to share the funeral with a young rabbi.
He called me and very bluntly said, “You know, if you mention Jesus at the memorial service you will offend the Jewish people present."
"Could you just do your eulogy and leave Jesus out?" he almost demanded.
Of course, I replied that what he was asking of me was impossible. I couldn't preach a sermon, I couldn't offer a eulogy, I couldn't even pray a prayer without mentioning Jesus! To be honest, I was a much more worried about offending God by not talking about His Son! To make a long story short, we compromised. I preached the funeral (and talked about Jesus) and the he did the graveside service (and talked about death).
I have a few words for the ACLU, the Jewish community, the Muslim community, the public school administrators, and anyone else up in arms about the Christian emphasis at Christmas time: we Christians have feelings and rights, too! I find myself totally offended when you suggest I can't talk about Jesus or put on display the symbols representing His birth at this season of the year.
When my religious freedom and yours clash in this country, it would seem that compromise is in order. I will make you a deal. If you will let me rejoice and celebrate Christ's birth at Christmas, I won't say a word about your overt acts of religiosity on Hanukkah, Ramadan, or Kwanzaa.
Go ahead. Light a candle. Take a pilgrimage. Chant a mantra. Put up a star of David or erect a statue of Buddha. It's a free country. But in the name of fairness, let me have Christmas!---Phil LeMaster
Thursday, December 08, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
My Tobacco Role
The summer before my first year of college, I worked for the Agricultural Stabilization and Conservation Service (ASCS) office in Lewis County, Kentucky, doing a job that no longer exists. It was back in the days when tobacco allotments were distributed by acreage rather than by pounds, requiring surveyors to measure each plot to be sure that farmers weren’t growing too much. That was my job and I crisscrossed the county that summer of 1966, going up hills and hollows, paying visits on farmers and their burley crops.
It was an interesting job and helped to teach me quite a bit about human nature. All the farmers that summer knew exactly what their allotment size was and most had gone to the trouble to carefully plan their planting. These fields were blissfully trouble-free for the surveyor, with straight rows and squared ends that made my job easy. When I came upon such a tract, I almost always knew that the calculations I made at the end of the job would indicate that the amount of tobacco planted and the allotment allowed were precisely the same.
But there were some fields that were not that way. The rows were less than straight and the ends were uneven. Sometimes the lay of the land dictated such a pattern, but often it seemed that the farmer had just thrown the tobacco plants in the air and let them take root where they landed!
I hated measuring such fields. It was my job to square them up on paper and produce a consistent pattern that would translate into a measurable plot. To be honest, sometimes it required a great deal of imagination to make sense out of such haphazard and careless planting. Invariably, I would find that most of farmers with such fields never had a clue as to whether they were over or under their prescribed allotment allowance.
If they were under in their allotment, they were cheating themselves out of part of their crop and if they were over they would have a second visit from an ASCS employee. I would return (or another surveyor) to see them in an even less enjoyable role, that of the tobacco destroyer.
On this second visit, I was required to oversee their destruction of the excess part of their crop. I hated that phase of the job and, of course, farmers hated to see me return! To add insult to injury, they had to pay a pretty steep fee to ASCS to destroy their own tobacco.
My experience that hot, hazy summer over forty years ago really imitates life, doesn’t it? Some people plan their lives very carefully, knowing what the requirements are and taking great pains to establish the proper boundaries. As a result, the blessings from God flow. Other folks are careless and carefree, not putting much effort or intentionality into their life plan. The end result is that they cheat themselves out of the real joys of life and find themselves unprepared for the final day of reckoning (from PHILosophically Speaking, pages 139-142).
The summer before my first year of college, I worked for the Agricultural Stabilization and Conservation Service (ASCS) office in Lewis County, Kentucky, doing a job that no longer exists. It was back in the days when tobacco allotments were distributed by acreage rather than by pounds, requiring surveyors to measure each plot to be sure that farmers weren’t growing too much. That was my job and I crisscrossed the county that summer of 1966, going up hills and hollows, paying visits on farmers and their burley crops.
It was an interesting job and helped to teach me quite a bit about human nature. All the farmers that summer knew exactly what their allotment size was and most had gone to the trouble to carefully plan their planting. These fields were blissfully trouble-free for the surveyor, with straight rows and squared ends that made my job easy. When I came upon such a tract, I almost always knew that the calculations I made at the end of the job would indicate that the amount of tobacco planted and the allotment allowed were precisely the same.
But there were some fields that were not that way. The rows were less than straight and the ends were uneven. Sometimes the lay of the land dictated such a pattern, but often it seemed that the farmer had just thrown the tobacco plants in the air and let them take root where they landed!
I hated measuring such fields. It was my job to square them up on paper and produce a consistent pattern that would translate into a measurable plot. To be honest, sometimes it required a great deal of imagination to make sense out of such haphazard and careless planting. Invariably, I would find that most of farmers with such fields never had a clue as to whether they were over or under their prescribed allotment allowance.
If they were under in their allotment, they were cheating themselves out of part of their crop and if they were over they would have a second visit from an ASCS employee. I would return (or another surveyor) to see them in an even less enjoyable role, that of the tobacco destroyer.
On this second visit, I was required to oversee their destruction of the excess part of their crop. I hated that phase of the job and, of course, farmers hated to see me return! To add insult to injury, they had to pay a pretty steep fee to ASCS to destroy their own tobacco.
My experience that hot, hazy summer over forty years ago really imitates life, doesn’t it? Some people plan their lives very carefully, knowing what the requirements are and taking great pains to establish the proper boundaries. As a result, the blessings from God flow. Other folks are careless and carefree, not putting much effort or intentionality into their life plan. The end result is that they cheat themselves out of the real joys of life and find themselves unprepared for the final day of reckoning (from PHILosophically Speaking, pages 139-142).
Monday, July 18, 2011
He Is the Boss of Me!
After my freshman year at Kentucky Christian College, my brother Mike invited me to come to Galion, Ohio, where he and his family lived to look for summer work. Fortunately after only a couple of days of job hunting, I was hired by Urban Industries of Ohio, a company that manufactured awnings for mobile homes.
My first and only factory job, I was required to help roll panels, make screened windows, and assemble awning kits for shipping. Work began at 7 a.m., necessitating getting up at 5:45, a time of the morning that I had seldom seen in my teen-age years! The small factory had only about twenty workers, most of whom were rough on the edges and laced every sentence with profanity. My boss was Carl Snelcker, a tall, balding man in his late 50s, who said little except when he was chewing me out for the mistakes that I made. It took only about three weeks of work for me to conclude that I thoroughly hated the job.
Even though I had gone to college for a year, this was my first real experience away from home. I became increasingly homesick with every passing day. Before the first month of summer was over, I was ready to quit and go back to Kentucky.
But then one evening while reading the Bible and having my devotional time, I came upon a verse in the New Testament that changed my summer and my life. The verse was Colossians 3:23, where Paul wrote, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.”
It was almost like the words leaped off of the page and into my heart. God seemed to be saying to me, “Phil, you are not working for Urban Industries of Ohio. You are not working for Carl Snelcker. You are working for Me!” And, of course, this was true. I was earning money to go back to KCC so I could continue my training to become a minister of the Gospel. It suddenly struck me that any task or job that I endeavored to do deserved my best because my ultimate employer was God.
When I went back on the job the next morning, Urban Industries had an entirely new employee. I began to work at every task with the thought, “I am working for God. I need to do my very best.” And I did. When I wasn’t working at an assignment given to me by Carl Snelcker, I was sweeping up our work area, rearranging parts in their bins, or assembling extra kits. After a couple of weeks, I was even given a ten-cents an hour raise!
The summer flew by and soon it was time to go back to Kentucky. A younger brother, Rowland, had also worked that summer and worked well. I went to Carl Snelcker and told him that we would be leaving to go back to school at the end of the week. On our final day, he came to us and said, “I just want you boys to know that you will always have a job here if you want it.”
The lesson that I learned that summer of 1967 has blessed my life ever since. As a Christian, any endeavor I undertake in this world deserves my best because I am doing it ultimately for my Heavenly Father. Most of all, I want Him to be pleased with my effort. In the process of doing my best, I have also learned that life is a lot more fun!--Phil LeMaster (from PHILosophiclly Speaking, page 146-149)
After my freshman year at Kentucky Christian College, my brother Mike invited me to come to Galion, Ohio, where he and his family lived to look for summer work. Fortunately after only a couple of days of job hunting, I was hired by Urban Industries of Ohio, a company that manufactured awnings for mobile homes.
My first and only factory job, I was required to help roll panels, make screened windows, and assemble awning kits for shipping. Work began at 7 a.m., necessitating getting up at 5:45, a time of the morning that I had seldom seen in my teen-age years! The small factory had only about twenty workers, most of whom were rough on the edges and laced every sentence with profanity. My boss was Carl Snelcker, a tall, balding man in his late 50s, who said little except when he was chewing me out for the mistakes that I made. It took only about three weeks of work for me to conclude that I thoroughly hated the job.
Even though I had gone to college for a year, this was my first real experience away from home. I became increasingly homesick with every passing day. Before the first month of summer was over, I was ready to quit and go back to Kentucky.
But then one evening while reading the Bible and having my devotional time, I came upon a verse in the New Testament that changed my summer and my life. The verse was Colossians 3:23, where Paul wrote, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men.”
It was almost like the words leaped off of the page and into my heart. God seemed to be saying to me, “Phil, you are not working for Urban Industries of Ohio. You are not working for Carl Snelcker. You are working for Me!” And, of course, this was true. I was earning money to go back to KCC so I could continue my training to become a minister of the Gospel. It suddenly struck me that any task or job that I endeavored to do deserved my best because my ultimate employer was God.
When I went back on the job the next morning, Urban Industries had an entirely new employee. I began to work at every task with the thought, “I am working for God. I need to do my very best.” And I did. When I wasn’t working at an assignment given to me by Carl Snelcker, I was sweeping up our work area, rearranging parts in their bins, or assembling extra kits. After a couple of weeks, I was even given a ten-cents an hour raise!
The summer flew by and soon it was time to go back to Kentucky. A younger brother, Rowland, had also worked that summer and worked well. I went to Carl Snelcker and told him that we would be leaving to go back to school at the end of the week. On our final day, he came to us and said, “I just want you boys to know that you will always have a job here if you want it.”
The lesson that I learned that summer of 1967 has blessed my life ever since. As a Christian, any endeavor I undertake in this world deserves my best because I am doing it ultimately for my Heavenly Father. Most of all, I want Him to be pleased with my effort. In the process of doing my best, I have also learned that life is a lot more fun!--Phil LeMaster (from PHILosophiclly Speaking, page 146-149)
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