You wouldn’t have wanted to trade places with George. But bad as it was, when all was said and done, I don’t know that he’d have wanted to trade places with you, either. Years ago George Matheson was ushered into new dimensions of faith, understanding, and intimacy with the Lord. But the price he paid was beyond expensive.
It all began with the brutality of rejection.
George had his future shining in front of him. He was engaged to be married, and was pursuing a career and calling in ministry. But that bright future began to dim – literally – when George began going blind. When his fiancé learned that the doctors gave him no hope for a cure, she ended the engagement, saying she couldn’t go through life taking care of a blind man.
I don’t know of a loneliness more devastating and bitter than that of rejection. Matheson had to learn to do without a woman he had come to feel he couldn’t live without. What’s more, he had to live with the piercing thoughts that taunted him incessantly: [click to continue…]
You wouldn’t have known from meeting Martha the first time that her life had been a sinking ship. Rewind from the near-poverty this single mother of two sons lived to the day she walked away from her “covering” – an abusive, controlling religious system. Go back a bit further to the time her minister husband left her for another woman. If you dare, rewind a bit more to the night she and her husband came home to find their third son, Matthew, dead in his crib from SIDS.
Life had not been kind. But you wouldn’t know it from the courageous smile, the ox-like willingness to work, and the radiant joy she had in her relationship with Jesus Christ. Sure, Martha had her moments, and could cry with the worst of ‘em. But a heart so captured by the grace of God will cling to it, even when everything else seems lost.
I once asked her why she didn’t just walk away, since loving and serving God had been so costly. I don’t remember any words – just the look on her face that let me know I had just asked the most absurd question possible.
Mention Morris Brown’s name around Jones County, Mississippi to anybody who knew him, and they’ll probably reply, “Oh, you mean Coach?” Not much chance of somebody piping up and saying, “He was my Social Studies teacher!”
But don’t let the labels fool you. Coach was always a teacher at heart. And while a football field or basketball court may have been his favorite classrooms, they certainly weren’t his only ones. There were precious few, if any, specialists in rural education in the 1950s. But that was fine with Coach Brown. He willingly embraced teachable moments wherever the situation called for it.
Just ask Dale Holifield, who grew up on a small farm in Jones County. At age 11, Dale was so shy he could have been considered antisocial. Outside of farming, he participated in very few activities. Even when he went hunting and fishing, he usually did it alone. All of that changed one summer day at the W. C. Houston grocery store, across from Shady Grove School. Dale was getting a cold RC cola to drink and chatting with Bubba Houston, the store owner’s son. The time came for Bubba to go to baseball practice, and he invited Dale to come along. Dale reluctantly accepted, and joined Bubba at the small practice field behind Bubba’s house. Hoping not to be noticed, Dale took a seat on the ground under a shade tree to watch the practice.
I was standing in the bank branch foyer the other day. It was lunchtime, and only two tellers were working, so there was a small line.
Waiting my turn, the man in front of me turned around, and I recognized him. He was an acquaintance from a former church where I had served. The truth is, the last we’d seen of each other in any meaningful way was on a rafting trip more than 10 years ago. We had a few minutes to catch up – not asking eternal-type questions mind you – just mainly the life-and-work stuff.
He had retired a few years ago, just in time for the stock market to crater. So he had figured out that the way out was the way back in, and had gone back to do some consulting.
I told him I am a teacher now for four different universities, soon to be five. I didn’t mention the part about being an aspiring author and counselor.
His back to the tellers, I had to tell him there was one who was available.
“Hello, Mr. Scott,” she said. It was the beginning of a powerful lesson.
Wow, I thought to myself. He must get by here a lot. He must be The Man. I wondered what it was like to have the fab bank teller know you as a somebody. [click to continue…]
I showed up at the gym yesterday, ready to tangle again with Jacobs Ladder, its newest chamber of horrors, among other things. Just as I hit the sidewalk, I passed an older couple getting out of their car. “Older” as in mid-to-late sixties, I suppose.
There was something different about him. Maybe it was that he moved with a straighter, more invigorated gait than other men his age. Maybe it was the intentionally-tight silver buzz haircut. Maybe it was the black Army t-shirt he wore – something similar to the one pictured here.
“Stop,” said that little voice inside my head. (You have one too… you may want to pay more attention.)
A bit out of character for me in places like this, I paused to ask: “Are you a veteran?”
His already-alert face lit up as he helped his wife to the curb. “Yes, I am,” he smiled. [click to continue…]
From the woods and swamps around his home in Millry, Alabama to the grass turf at Wildcat Hill, where the Millry Wildcats play their home games…
From a stint in the postwar United States Navy to the gridiron at the Mississippi Southern College…
From the sidelines and dugouts in the rural South to a legacy of influence that will long outlive him…
Nobody ever outran Morris Brown.
Nobody.
And he’d be the first to tell you.
In college they called him “Lightning.” But the people whose lives were most impacted by his teaching, motivation, and personal influence to this day simply call him, “Coach.” [click to continue…]
Last night the Texas Rangers won their first-ever postseason series.
And they celebrated with ginger ale.
Why?
Because Josh Hamilton, the Rangers’ star outfielder, graciously refuses to go anywhere near alcohol.
When the Rangers clinched their division in Oakland back in September, as beer and champagne flowed in the visitors’ locker room, Josh changed in a side office and left the clubhouse to go speak to a church group in Oakland about his life and testimony.
But last night, after winning the division series – something the Texas Rangers (and former Washington Senators) had never done – the team made sure it would be a team celebration. [click to continue…]
There wasn’t much about Barry Wheeler to command respect. He was certainly no athlete. His skinny frame was the product of a lifetime of allergies and a bad case of asthma that earned him the cruel nickname of “Barry Wheezer.”
Barry was no musician or class politician. He couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, and his shy, withdrawn personality made him just another face in the crowd at high school in Topeka.
Barry was no geekzilla either. A “B” student in regular classes, nobody called Barry out for the National Honor Society – or any honor, for that matter.
What would you do if you were Jimmy? You’re caught in a dilemma because your best friend is a hood. Riff-raff. Wrong side of the tracks. Your parents say you can’t visit him. And he’d do just as well to stay on his side of town, too. But there’s something special about him; that’s why he’s your best friend. He doesn’t have much, but he does have heart and passion.
And a cheap, second-hand guitar he doesn’t even know how to tune.
You come from a good family, with something of a pedigree. You live in one of the music capitals of America, and your cousin is a famous country musician.
Maybe you can still be his friend – this kid some people called “white trash.”
Maybe you can introduce your friend to your cousin. Maybe your cousin can cross the tracks in your place.
You wouldn’t have wanted to trade places with George. But bad as it was, when all was said and done, I don’t know that he’d have wanted to trade places with you, either. Years ago George Matheson was ushered into new dimensions of faith, understanding, and intimacy with the Lord. But the price he paid was beyond expensive.
Last night the Texas Rangers won their first-ever postseason series. 
