On Sage Avenue, just north of Airport Boulevard in Mobile, Alabama, you’ll find the still-proud structure of St. Pius X Catholic church, built in 1968. I’ve never been inside of it for any reason. But I’ve bragged on it a lot. Especially to my friends at Mrs. Cobb’s Day Care that met at the Methodist church across the street back in the summer of ’69.
In between using tennis racquets as air guitars to tunes like “Proud Mary” and “Daydream Believer,” and acting out our own living music videos to “Seven Little Girls, Sittin’ in the Back Seat, Kissin’ and a Huggin’ with Fred,” we’d hang out on the playground and I’d brag about “My Daddy’s Company.”
Actually it wasn’t his, but he worked for one of Mobile’s premier construction firms during the time when a boy most wants to be proud of his dad.
Martin Builders had just finished the beautiful sanctuary at St. Pius. They also built such local landmarks as the Spanish Plaza and Malaga Inn downtown, parts of Bel Air Mall, and the Mobile Greyhound Park (not to proud of that one). And oh, how I would brag – obnoxiously – about “my Daddy’s company” and what they had done.
My first paycheck came from Martin Builders – a whopping $8.00 for cutting the grass. That evolved into summer work for a couple of hot, humid summers, where I learned what builders actually do and what they need to get the job done. [click to continue…]
I grew up wishing I could sing like Steve Green. From his early days in “Truth” to his days in the Gaither Vocal Band to his sterling solo career and ministry, Steve had the pipes. He would melt my heart with “People Need the Lord” and “Wounded Soldier.” He would inspire me with “The Mission” and “Carry On.” He would blow me away with “No Other Name but Jesus” and his Truth duet with Art Ortiz of “It is Well With My Soul.”
I would buy his accompaniment tapes (if you have to ask what a tape is, never mind), grab a mic and belt his stuff out with gusto.
But Steve’s biggest impact on my life took place after Robin made a run to the Baptist Book Store (now Lifeway) and came home with “Hide ‘em In Your Heart, Vol. 1.” [click to continue…]
Friday I was on my way to Virginia to make a presentation at a Servant Leadership conference. So I guess it was safe to say I had leading-by-serving on the brain…
I walk up to the ticket counter of the Dallas-based airline that will remain nameless (though I will point out that they don’t advertise that bags fly free).
Next to me is a fellow traveler who was trying to check her two bags. Here is the gist of the conversation… [click to continue…]
The earliest known drawings of you-know-who. From the Walt Disney Family Museum in San Francisco
Suppose you could travel back in time and witness some event as it happened. What would you like to see firsthand?
My family and I played that “what if” game on a trip a few years ago. There were the obvious answers, of course, – to see the Red Sea divided into two walls of water, the resurrection or ascension of Jesus, to hear Lincoln’s Gettysburg address.
But lately I’ve been working on another list, because it speaks not just to the past, but to my future and yours.
If I could be a fly on history’s wall, here are some things I’d like to see, in no certain order:
I’d love to see Walt Disney show his wife sketch of a cartoon mouse he drew on the train ride home – one he called “Mortimer.” Lillian had a better idea. “Call him Mickey,” she said.
I’d love to see Oprah Winfrey’s first screen test.
I’d love to hear Billy Graham the first time he ever stood to preach.
I’d love to see Norman Vincent Peale’s wife, Ruth, mail his book manuscript – still in the trash can – to yet another publisher because he forbid her to take it out of the trash. (The book was The Power of Positive Thinking. It sold 30 million copies.) [click to continue…]
It’s time to come clean. It’s time to break 30 years of silence, to lay the rumors to rest and answer the burning question that has followed me since the early 80s. And I decided that rather than have all the drama of a press conference or something, you should be the official witness.
What’s that? No, sorry, I don’t have the original formula to Coca Cola. No, I don’t know what happened to D.B. Cooper.
What I’m going to finally tell the world is why I chose David Garland as my Hebrew professor.
I know, I know. This is big. But I’ve given it some thought, and I have my reasons for sharing it now, and in this format. Stay with me, okay?
Dr. Garland was a distinguished and beloved Old Testament and Hebrew professor at Southwestern Seminary from 1958 to 1991. But I didn’t pick him because of his Old Testament or Hebrew wisdom. [click to continue…]
They were two branches off the same Vine.
Designed in the Vine’s image, each a was unique expression of the nature of its Creator. One was tender and sensitive, with stunning intuitive wisdom. The other was strong and masculine, with a compelling view toward the horizon.
They loved being branches of the Vine. And they loved each other. But they’d cut themselves off from the flow of the Vine’s life. They believed the lie that they could thrive on their own. The result: An odd combination of life and death in the same form.
Form without flow.
Image without reality.
As they dreamed of a future together, they asked one another, “How can we shape ourselves so our offspring can know our love and be fruitful?” [click to continue…]
Dylan hadn’t smiled for days. His grandmother, whom he loved dearly, had died, and the ten-year-old was crushed. His friends were worried about him, and convinced him to visit their special friend, an old man they called The Storyteller. The Storyteller loved children, and often helped them with the special stories he would make up. The Storyteller also knew Dylan’s grandmother.
“This is Dylan,” one of the kids said that Monday afternoon. “His grandmother died last week, and he’s very sad.”
The Storyteller looked up from his gardening and sized up the boy. “Sad” was an understatement.
“Looks like she found the Big Surprise,” said the Storyteller, with a twinkle in his eye.
“What’s the Big Surprise?” asked Dylan dejectedly.
“Well, let me tell you about it,” said the old man as he turned to sit on the grass and the kids sat around him. [click to continue…]
Alexander's Bridge over Chickamauga Creek
Imagine throwing a little backyard barbecue and inviting 12,000 of your closest friends. And even closer enemies.
It happened nearly 125 years ago, in 1889, at a place called Chickamauga, near Chattanooga, TN. And it took place where these friends and enemies had once gathered 26 years earlier to kill each other.
You don’t hear as much about the Battle of Chickamauga as you do Vicksburg or Gettysburg or Shiloh. But in two days, 66,000 Confederate and 58,000 Union troops staged two days of hell – desperate, often hand-to-hand combat. Somewhere around 18,480 Confederate and 16,240 Union soldiers were killed, wounded or missing when all was said and done.
One side won the battle. The other won the war.
Then as time passed, something remarkable happened. [click to continue…]
(From the forthcoming book, Coach Lightning)
(Note: Anybody can be an influence to people sitting right in front of them. But it takes a special kind of character to continue to shape lives you first touched 50 years ago. The following is an excerpt about the way Morris Brown did that, and how his influence lives on to this day. You can see other excerpts here and here.)
Benjamin Disraeli, the British statesman, once said, “The greatest good you can do for another is not just to share your riches, but to reveal to him his own.” That’s what you discover when you talk to the people whose lives were touched by Morris Brown. You hear the language of wealthy people. And they’ll tell you that Coach Brown was instrumental in revealing their riches to them.
One of the greatest contributions any leader, teacher, or friend can make in terms of influence is to “raise the bar” in the pursuit of excellence. Morris did that time and time again. Don Hunt calls him a “beacon in my heart and soul” to this day. From the days of Little League baseball until today, Don says, Coach Brown’s life and actions remind him to strive to be the best person that he can be.
It’s interesting to note that in all the conversations or interviews about Coach Brown’s influence, nobody went to a chalkboard and started drawing the X’s and O’s of a football locker room. Morris influenced players and students by first influencing them as people. As he helped raise up a generation of excellent people, the on-field or on-court play took care of itself. [click to continue…]
A Fable about leadership, teamwork, unity, and of course, honey…
It was a lovely morning in the Hundred Acre Wood, where Christopher Robin’s friends lived and played. The bees were abuzz making their honey (and You-Know-Who knew just who it was for).
Kanga had already gotten an early start on motherly things, while Roo was playing close by.
Piglet was pacing about his tidy home saying “Oh Dear, Dear, Dear” because he knew something Important was about to happen, but he couldn’t quite remember what it was.
Rabbit was tending his garden, nervously glancing around for signs that he soon may be bounced by Tigger.
Eeyore was a bit confused as he chomped on a thistle because he couldn’t think of anything to be gloomy about.
Owl was remembering the time to no one in particular that his great uncle Waldo on his mother’s side did something famous because it happened on a lovely day such as today.
And Winnie the Pooh? Being a Bear of Very Little Brain, he was sitting at the Thotful Spot, thinking. And wishing for just a bit of honey, because as everyone knows, bears think better when their tumblies aren’t so rumbly. And there’s nothing like honey to take the rumbly out of the tumbly.
This was no ordinary day after all. This was the day of the Grand Celebration. They weren’t quite sure what they were celebrating, but everyone had agreed that today would be a fine day to celebrate it. [click to continue…]
