James Collins's Blog: The Point Is...

“What shall we say then? Is the law sin? God forbid. Nay, I had not known sin, but by the law: for I had not known lust, except the law had said, Thou shalt not covet.” Romans 7:7

“Get out of the car,” the police officer said. As I was getting out of the car, Amanda yelled, “Officer, I told him to slow down!” The policeman smiled and said, “Where are you going in such a hurry?” My Bible was in my hand. I reached back and laid it up on the dashboard. I wanted the police officer to know that I am a man of God. I said, “You know, I am a preacher. I’m on my way to minister to a family and preach a funeral down here at Crossroads Church.” The police officer said, “I know. I was at church when you preached last time. I know who you are.” I began to think this wasn’t going to go my way.

My wife, Amanda, and I were on our way to a funeral in Southeast Oklahoma. The funeral was at a church where I had preached before. We were almost there when I saw a blue flashing light behind me.

The police officer pulled me over on the main road going to the church. The entire time I was standing on the side of the road, people from the church were driving by, honking and waving at me. It is difficult to be spiritual on the side of the road when the police have pulled you over.

The policeman said, "I clocked you doing 47 in a 40-mile-per-hour zone." When he said that, I became furious. Seven stinking miles an hour! Are you kidding me! He pulled me over for seven stinking miles an hour!!!

The police officer smiled and said, “Preacher, I’m going to give you what you gave me in church the last time you preached. I’m going to give you a warning.”

After he gave me the warning, I got back in the car to drive away. I was still furious. When I pulled the car out in the road, I finally saw the speed limit sign – 40 miles per hour. Guilty as charged.

The police officer was right. I had broken the law. I was guilty, but the policeman showed me grace. We are all guilty. You may not drive too fast, but you are a guilty sinner. Some people think, “I’ve never killed anyone.” But the Bible says if you have broken one of the Ten Commandments, you have broken them all. You are guilty. You can’t separate the Law from Grace when it comes to salvation. It is by the Law that we know we are sinners.

Have you ever stolen something? An answer from somebody’s test? A nickel from your dad’s dresser? A piece of gum from your sister’s pack? Ten million dollars from your company? At some point in your life, you have stolen something.

How many lies have you told in your life?

How many times have you used God's name in vain? God gave you life, and you have used His name as a curse word. That's called blasphemy.

How many times have you committed adultery? Jesus said that whoever looks at a woman with lust has committed adultery in his heart. Have you ever looked with lust? Even if you have not committed the physical act of adultery, you have looked with lust.

The point is that we are all guilty. To bridge the gap between a Holy God and guilty sinners, Jesus Christ came into the world. He died on the cross to pay the price for our sins. Faith in Jesus is the way to forgiveness and a new relationship with God. All you must do is admit you are a sinner, turn from your sin, trust that Jesus died and rose from the grave for you, and invite Christ to come into your life.

Like the policeman gave me that day, God gives us the Law as a warning. You know that you are guilty. Trust in Christ and receive Him as Lord and Savior. Do it today…

This could be your final warning.

“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” Psalm 119:105

Have you had a bad day recently? A while back, I had one of those days. It started out that morning when I cut myself while shaving. I did more than nick myself. I cut a chunk out of my face. Blood was dripping down my chin. I stuck a wad of toilet paper on my face. The bleeding stopped. After a bit, I took the tissue off, and I started bleeding again. So, I went out with a big glob of toilet paper on my face.

As I was getting in my truck to go to work, I hit the top of my forehead on the top of the cab. I saw stars. I thought I was going to pass out. When I got to work, someone came up to me and said, “Man! That is a giant knot on your head!”

My day would get better because I had a meeting in town at the Chick-fil-A. I love Chick-fil-A. When I arrived at the restaurant, I ordered a BBQ chicken sandwich with waffle fries.

I like to dip my waffle fries in Ranch Dressing. But I couldn't open the little dressing packet. I was fiddling with the packet of Ranch Dressing, trying to get it open, when it burst. Ranch Dressing squirted all over me. I grabbed a bunch of napkins and attempted to wipe the Ranch Dressing off my shirt.

I picked up my BBQ chicken sandwich, and I bit into it. The chicken slipped out of the bun and slid down my shirt. Now, I was covered in BBQ Sauce and Ranch Dressing.

I hurried into the restroom to try to clean up. I reached up under the soap dispenser and pulled the handle. Soap squirted all over me. Liquid soap hit me in the face. Liquid soap spotted up my glasses. Liquid soap got all over my shirt.

I cleaned up as best as I could and went back out to finish my meal. When I got back to my table, I discovered that a Chick-fil-A employee had come by and thrown away my food.

Ever the optimist, I tried to look on the bright side. I thought, "Well, at least he didn't throw out my sweet tea." I reached down to get my sweet tea, and I noticed this big glob of Ranch Dressing that I had missed on my shirt. I took my finger and scooped up the glob, and I put it in my mouth. Only it wasn't Ranch Dressing. It was liquid soap.

Now I'm spitting and sputtering. I had a mouthful of soap. I thought, "I'll wash it down with some sweet iced tea." When I picked up that tea to take a drink, I felt something wet in my lap. I looked down. There was a hole in the bottom of my Chick-fil-A cup.

By this time, I was frustrated. I was having a bad day. I went up to the counter to demand a new Sweet Tea.

The lady behind the counter looked at me, and her eyes got big. I was a sight. There was bloody toilet paper on my chin. I had a giant knot on my forehead. My shirt was stained with BBQ Sauce, Ranch Dressing, and liquid soap. My pants were wet from sweet tea. I looked like I had lost control of my bladder.
The lady behind the counter looked at me and said, “Honey, you’ve had a rough day, haven’t you?” Sarcastically, I said, “Yes, I have. Thank you very much.” She smiled and said, “It’s my pleasure.”

The point is sometimes we have bad days in life. However, we have a survival guide for living. We have the Bible to be a lamp unto our feet and a light to guide our path. We have the Bible to lead us.

I have been preaching out of the Bible for years. I've preached the Bible in places that were dead, and I've seen them come alive. I've preached the Bible to people who were hurting, and I've seen them healed. I've preached the Bible to those who were lost, and I've seen them saved.

How often do you read God’s Word? If you and I are not in the Bible daily – if it is not hidden in our hearts – then we will be destroyed by this wicked world. Pick up your Bible. Blow the dust off it. Start reading it. It will make your bad day

“Who among you will give ear to this? who will hearken and hear for the time to come?” Isaiah 42:23

I have been learning to use my cell phone. However, there are many buttons and apps – I have no idea what most of them do.

A while back, I saw my friend, Ida Ford, talking into her cell phone. However, she wasn’t on a call. “What are you doing?” I asked. She said, “I’m using the voice command app. I talk, and the voice command types my text message.”
Ida showed me how the app worked, and for the past few months, I have tried to use it. Yet, it doesn’t work right. It doesn’t understand my Oklahoma accent.

Someone texted me and told me about a lady from church who was in the hospital. I replied with my voice command, “I hope she gets better. I pray she does." Only it said, "I pray she dies." That was not good…

Once I activated the voice command, I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. I got frustrated and said, “Baloney!” When I said, “Baloney,” the phone said, “Bologna is a city in Italy. It is also a cooked, smoked sausage.” I screamed, “I didn’t say Bologna. I said, Baloney!”

Later that day, I was at the dentist's office with the phone in my pocket. As I was sitting in the waiting room, a voice said, “Say a command.” The lady at the reception desk looked up at me. I heard the voice again, “Say a command.” I realized the voice was coming out of my britches.

“Say a command.”

I took the phone out of my pocket, tried to turn it off, but it kept saying, “Say a command.”
“Say a command.”

“I command you to shut up!” I exclaimed.
I was called back to the exam room. I was sitting in the dental chair while the hygienist was cleaning my teeth. I couldn’t say anything because there was a suction hose, a tooth scraper, a polisher, a Waterpik, and seven or eight other dental tools hanging out of my mouth. I couldn’t have said anything if I tried.
Suddenly, I heard a voice say, "Did you say call Brian Poodle?" It repeated it. “Did you say call Brian Poodle?”

I know Brian Williams, Brian Foster, Bryan Jeffries, Brian Gibson, and Brian Lane. However, I don’t know Brian Poodle. I know some wiener dogs, and a schnauzer, but I don't see a poodle.

Frustrated, I finally reached into my pocket and turned off that stinking thing. I was tired of hearing the voice. So, I turned it off.

Often, we do the same thing.

Children get tired of listening to their parents. So, they turn them off.

In church, people get tired of listening to the preacher. So, they turn him off.

You get tired of listening to the Word of God. So, you turn it off.

The point is that God might just be trying to convey a command to you. Will you give an ear to Him? Will you listen? Don't cover your ears and close your heart.

“And he sat down, and called the twelve, and saith unto them, If any man desire to be first, the same shall be last of all, and servant of all.” Mark 9:35

“I want you to go to church with me," Mimmie said. I knew that was how she would answer the question. Still, I was quiet momentarily as I tried to think of a way out. Mimmie was my 88-year-old great-grandmother. I was a stupid kid who thought I knew everything.

Not many people get to know their great-grandmother. I was fortunate to know mine. My biological mother was fourteen when she gave birth to me. She was just a kid herself and had no business being a mother, so my grandparents adopted me. Mimmie was my grandmother's mother. She helped to raise me.

Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in her lap as she read the Bible. She loved old-time Gospel hymns. I was rocked to sleep as a child as she sang The Old Rugged Cross. I remember sitting in the pew next to her at church each Sunday morning. Mimmie was a person of strong faith. She lived the Golden Rule.

When I was eighteen, I joined the Army. I soon thought that Mimmie way of living was old-fashioned. I wanted no part of her old ways, and I especially did not want to attend church.

After a few years, I was assigned to come back to my hometown in Southeast Oklahoma to serve as a recruiter. I visited Mimmie and asked her, "What do you want this year for your birthday?" As the question left my mouth, I knew how she would answer. She said, "I want you to go to church with me. I know that I don't have many years left. It would mean so much to see all my grandchildren in church with me again." Seeing no way out, I said, “Okay. I’ll go.”

I called all my cousins, and we joined Mimmie at a little country church the following Sunday. She was so happy and proud. After church, we all returned to her house, and she cooked a wonderful meal for us.

After we finished eating, everyone said their goodbyes and left. I stayed behind with Mimmie. While she was cleaning up in the kitchen, I did what all church folk do on Sunday afternoon—I took a nap. If you don't take a nap on Sunday afternoon, you may not be saved… Anyway, I kicked off my shoes and put them under the coffee table. Then, I stretched out on the couch. I was asleep in a couple of minutes.

At that point in my life, I didn't have much money. I was in the Army trying to work my way through college. I did not own a pair of dress shoes to wear to church. The shoes that I wore that day were an old pair of Army low-quarter dress shoes. The shoes were issued to me during basic training. They were scratched, scuffed, and nicked up. I sat up and reached for my shoes when I woke from my nap. The shoes were right where I left them under the coffee table, but they were cleaned up and freshly polished. Mimmie came in while I was sleeping, and she polished my shoes.

Not too long after that, she died. At her funeral, I looked in the casket at her face. For some reason, I didn't think about our years together. I didn't think about all the delicious meals she made for me. Do you know what I remembered? That is the dear, sweet woman who polished my shoes. Her act of kindness, polishing my shoes, was a simple gesture, but it left a lasting impression on me. It was a reflection of her selflessness and love, and it's a memory I cherish to this day.

The point is, as you read this, perhaps, in the back of your mind, you recall a precious memory of somebody who blessed you. Wouldn't you like to be that person? Wouldn't you want to be the kind of person that when you walk away from a crowd, they whisper, 'Boy, he's like a breath of fresh air. She's like a breath of fresh air.' I don't know about you, but I want to be like that. Mimmie's act of kindness, polishing my shoes, was a breath of fresh air in my life. It's a reminder of the impact we can have on others through simple acts of kindness.

Sometimes, the old ways are still the best.

“Weep ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him: but weep sore for him that goeth away: for he shall return no more, nor see his native country.” Jeremiah 22:10

His name was Pickering, but everyone called him “Pick.” He never spoke to me, but I talked to him. That was all I could do—talk. He never answered me. Pick never said anything to me, but his silence spoke volumes. In his quiet presence, I found a friend who changed my life.

On July 9, 2010, I was serving in the Army as the Combat Army Support Hospital (CASH) Chaplain at Contingency Operating Base (COB) Adder in Southern Iraq. That was the day Pick came into my life. He was brought into the hospital by air ambulance. He was unresponsive.

I stood at the head of the gurney while the doctors and hospital staff worked to save Pick. I leaned close to his ear and said, “I’m Chaplain Collins. You are at the hospital. The doctors working on you are the best in the Army. Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.” He never spoke back. His eyes remained closed, and his expression never changed.

I have always believed hearing is the last of the senses to go before someone dies. So, I prayed for Pick. I whispered in his ear. Only he could hear me. The medical personnel were oblivious to my prayer as they frantically worked to save his life.

I realized I didn’t know his name. The field medics had cut his uniform off, but a silver chain hung around his neck. On that chain were his identification tags and a little silver cross. Identification tags are also known as “dog” tags. I reached down, took his dog tags, and read his name. HORACE PICKERING.

I leaned into his ear and said, “Hello, Horace.” I smiled and joked, “What kind of a name is Horace? Who names their kid Horace? I bet they call you Pick. Can I call you Pick? We can forget rank, and you can call me James. I am glad to meet you, Pick.” The expression on his face never changed.

One of the medics who came in with Pick screamed, “We are losing him again!” Again? I later learned Pick died twice in the field, and the medics resuscitated him twice. The crash cart was wheeled over, and his heart was shocked. He started breathing again. I whispered, “That a boy. Hang on. Stay with me.”

Pick was finally stabilized, but he was in terrible shape. A ventilator breathed for him. The doctor believed he had been too long without oxygen. The prognosis was not good. The doctor said, “He’s already dead. The machine is the only thing keeping him alive.” I whispered to Pick, “Ignore him. What do doctors know anyway?”

I prayed again. I asked God to save this man’s life.

I pulled a chair up next to his bed. I sat there all night and just talked to him.

Four soldiers from Pick’s unit came to the hospital the next day. We stood around his bed and cried. They said “goodbye” and went back to the war. I stayed by his bedside. He had nobody else. I determined he would not die alone. I sat with him for three days. I held his hand. I talked to him, but he never said a word.

On July 12, 2010, three days after Pick was brought into the hospital, the doctor walked in and pulled a chair up next to me. He said, “Chaplain, I have been on the phone with his family. We are going to turn off the ventilator.” Hot tears rolled down my face. I nodded in agreement.

I stood up and moved back to the head of the bed. As the medical team turned off the machines, I whispered, “It has been a pleasure. I will see you again.”

Then he was gone…

Horace Pickering never said a word to me, but what his death said to me was to make each day count. Before I met him, I was focused on myself and my career, often to the detriment of my family. The time I spent with Pick changed me. A job will not be there to hold your hand when you die. Pick’s death reminds me to cherish everyone in my life and never take them for granted. It’s the people in our lives that truly matter.

Take a walk with your spouse and hold hands. Play games with your kids. Call your parents. Go to church with your grandma. Go fishing with your grandpa. Spend time with your grandkids. Help your neighbor. Take some food over to a sick friend. Make each day count. There may come a time when you wish you could, but it may be too late.

I learned that from Pick, even though he never said a word.

This Memorial Day Weekend, people will come up to me and say, “Thank you for your service.” However, this weekend is not about me or my service. Memorial Day is about a young man named Horace Pickering and the many, many other men and women like him who left their country to never return.

I hope you enjoy your weekend cookout. I hope you enjoy a Monday off work. I hope you enjoy weekend activities with your family. I will enjoy all of those things too, but, God willing, I will spend some time on Monday honoring our nation’s military fallen… and I will cry for my friend, Pick, even though he never said a word.

"When I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee, which dwelt first in thy grandmother Lois, and thy mother Eunice; and I am persuaded that in thee also.” 2 Timothy 1:5

Timothy was born in the 1970s to a girl who was still a child. Timothy's biological mother was a young, pretty, naive teenage girl. One night, she made a mistake, and Timothy was the consequence.

Timothy's father was an all-American boy. He was handsome and charming, the most popular boy in high school. Timothy’s father was an honor student and a star athlete. He was going places in life. A wife and a baby didn’t fit into his plans. So, Timothy’s father left him before he was even born, and he was branded a bastard. He had no daddy. On his birth certificate, the block where his father's name should have been was left blank.

Timothy’s mother was a child herself. She was young and couldn't raise a child, so she decided to put Timothy up for adoption, and his grandmother adopted him. On the day he was born, Timothy was taken from the hospital, loved, and cared for by his grandmother. Timothy’s grandmother, a woman of strong faith and unwavering love, became Timothy’s Momma.

Momma loved Timothy so much. She had always wanted a son, but God had seen fit to give her three girls. As the years went by, she thought that she would never have a son, but just like Abraham’s wife, Sarah, who was blessed with a baby boy in her old age -- God blessed Timothy’s Momma with a baby boy in her old age.

Momma was so blessed by her boy. She wiped his nose and his backside, too. She held him at night when he was sick. She loved Timothy and raised him like he was her own child.

When Timothy was in school, he made Momma a present. He took an empty Campbell’s Soup Can and glued uncooked macaroni noodles on it. Then he painted it gold and gave it to Momma. She took the ugly can, placed it on the kitchen table, and put flowers in it. Whenever anyone would come to the house, she would brag and say, “Look at the beautiful vase that Timothy made for me.” She couldn’t have been more proud if it were made of real gold.

One day, Timothy came home crying from school with a bloody nose. He had been in a fight. A boy he thought was his friend had beat him up. Timothy asked, “Why did Joey hit me? He was supposed to be my friend.” Momma sighed as she cleaned him up. She wiped away his tears. Then she picked him up and sang, "What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear. What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer.” Timothy never forgot that.

Momma was a fine Christian woman. She did everything possible to see that Timothy was raised in a Christian home. He went to Sunday School and church. Timothy learned the Bible. He knew about faith in Jesus. He learned to pray, “God is Great. God is good. Let us thank Him for our food” before every meal. He prayed every night, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” Momma taught Timothy to pray.

Timothy’s earliest memories are of Momma singing to him. She sang Jesus Loves Me, Jesus Loves the Little Children, The Old Rugged Cross, Nothing but the Blood, Amazing Grace, and all the classic hymns. She also had old record albums of Elvis Presley, Jim Reeves, Buck Owens, George Jones, and Charley Pride singing Gospel Music. She played those records all the time. They were scratchy and old, but they sounded like Heaven to Timothy.

Momma wanted Timothy to be a preacher when he grew up. She used to talk to him about it. She said, “God has put it on my heart that you will take the Gospel around the world.” She dressed Timothy like a preacher in his little suit and took him to church. As the preacher was in the pulpit, she whispered to Timothy, “Someday, you’ll be a great preacher.”

Momma was very sick. Timothy didn’t know it, but she was slowly dying. One day, Timothy overheard her praying, "God, let me live to raise Timothy. Life will be so hard on him without me caring for him."

Unfortunately, she didn’t live. She died on Mother’s Day in 1981. Little Timothy was devastated. His life was turned upside-down. For several years, he was shuffled from one foster home to another. He became bitter, heartbroken, and angry with God. He struggled with feelings of abandonment and a deep sense of loss, often questioning his faith and the purpose of his life. He felt like God had abandoned him, just like his mother had been taken from him. His faith was tested, and he often found himself in dark places, questioning the very existence of God. But even in those moments, the seeds of faith his Momma had planted were still there, waiting to bloom.

Two thousand years before Timothy was born, the Apostle Paul wrote to another young man named Timothy. Paul told Timothy that his mother and grandmother planted his faith. Their faith was not just a fleeting influence but a lasting legacy. The Bible also speaks about training a child in the faith so that he will not depart from it when he is old. This enduring impact of faith is a testament to the power of a mother's influence.

The seeds of faith that Timothy’s Momma planted grew. After years of struggle, Timothy found his way to the Lord. His journey was not easy, but it was transformative. He gave his life to Jesus Christ and was saved. Later, God called him to the ministry. Just like Momma had dreamed, Timothy became a preacher.

Today, I, James Timothy Collins, am the man I am because of the Grace of God and the love of a Christian Momma.

The point is that a Christian Mother is truly a blessing. As you have been reading this story about my Momma, you have been thinking about your own. Call her if she still lives and wish her a "Happy Mother's Day."

Better yet, go see her.

If your Momma has passed, thank God for blessing you with such a wonderful woman to raise you.

I thank God for mine.

“For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 6:23

I understand people today don’t believe in spanking kids, but I was raised in a different time. Spanking was a daily occurrence for me.

Corporal punishment was still in the public school system when I was growing up. I used to get spankings at school. At my school, they used the Board of Education, which was a wooden paddle.

In the eighth grade, we studied the periodic table of elements in science. I struggled to memorize it and was as lost as a goose in a snowstorm.

Who came up with those abbreviations anyway? Some of them made sense. For example, hydrogen is H. Oxygen is O. But some don’t make sense. Take potassium, for example. Potassium is K. There isn’t even a K in the word potassium. Sodium is NA. I thought NA meant “not applicable.” Silver is AG. Isn’t AG the abbreviation for agriculture?

In the eighth grade, I could not remember the periodic table for the life of me. A big test on the periodic table was coming up, so I decided to cheat.

I took a clear plastic ink pen and copied the periodic table on a small piece of paper. Then, I rolled up the paper and put it inside the pen. All I had to do was look at the pen for the test answers.

My plan would have worked if not for my cousin, Bubba. Bubba’s real name was Jimmy Joe Jeff Johnny Paul Ray Elmer Junior. But that was a mouthful. We called him Bubba.
Bubba was in Mr. Alford’s Science Class with me. On the test day, he sat at the desk behind me.

When the test started, things were going great. Thanks to the periodic pen, I was filling in all the blanks on the test.

Suddenly, Bubba whispered, “What’s the abbreviation for Mercury?” I tried to ignore him because I didn’t want to get caught.

He was persistent. He asked again louder, “What’s the abbreviation for Mercury?” I still didn’t answer.

Finally, Bubba stood up and said, “Mr. Alford, my pen quit writing. Can I borrow James’ pen?”

Mr. Alford walked over, took the pen, and marched me into the hall. Mr. Alford had my pen and the paddle in one hand. It was a bad day after that.

I cheated, got caught, and had to pay the price.

The point is not just about the consequences of cheating but the broader concept of sin. Just as I faced consequences for my actions, there are consequences when we sin and disobey God. God is just; because He is, He must punish sin. This is a lesson I learned the hard way and one I hope you can take to heart.

The Bible says the wages of sin is death. For the lost, it means death in hell. For the Christian, it can mean physical death pre-maturely. Sometimes, God will kill a Christian if that person loses his testimony and lives like a non-Christian. Sin brings physical death.

Sin can also bring death to your marriage, to joy in your life, and to your relationships. Sin destroys. Sin kills.

However, God has given us a gift: His Son, Jesus Christ. Eternal life waits for those who call on Him in repentance for salvation. Get off the path that leads to death. Get on the highway to Heaven. Turn to Christ today.

“He that receiveth you receiveth me, and he that receiveth me receiveth him that sent me.”, Matthew 10:40

Many years ago, before we were married, my future wife's parents invited me to their home for a visit. Amanda and I had been dating for a while. I suppose her mom and dad realized they would not get rid of me, so they invited me to stay for a couple of days to get to know me better.

When I arrived, Amanda’s mom said, “We want you to feel welcome.” I said, “Thank you.” She said, “No. You don’t understand. We really want you to feel welcome. We want you to feel like you are part of the family.” I smiled and said, “I really appreciate your hospitality.”

I stayed in the bedroom of their youngest daughter, Amy, who bunked with Amanda. It was a little awkward to stay in the room of a thirteen-year-old girl. The bed was very small, and my feet hung over the end. Stuffed animals covered the bed, and the blankets were pink. It was not very manly, but I didn't mind. I looked forward to relaxing. My plan was to sleep in the following day.

I was awakened early by a knock. I opened my eyes and looked at the red digital clock. It was 4:45 in the morning. Amanda's dad knocked at the door. He said, "Today is spirit day at school, and Amy needs her red shirt." I said, "Come on in." He came in with Amy. They turned on the light and started digging through the closet. It was 4:45 in the morning.

Amanda’s parents had a dog. His name was Lucky. Lucky was not a small dog. He was a giant, gray Weimaraner. He must have weighed a hundred pounds. Lucky ran through the open door, jumped onto the bed, and attempted to get under the covers. He grabbed the pink blankets with his teeth and started to pull them off me. It was 4:45 in the morning.

Amanda's dad and sister were still searching for the red shirt. They paid no attention to the dog. After a minute, Lucky let go of the blankets, but he licked my face and nibbled my ear. All the while, Amanda's dad and her sister continued to look for the shirt. It was 4:46 in the morning.

Amanda came in and started helping them. Three people were in the room looking for a red shirt. The lights were on, and the dog was trying to rip my ear off. It was 4:47 in the morning.

Amanda’s mom walked into the room. The entire family was there – Amanda, her sister, her mom, and her dad. They all searched for the red shirt. Lucky the dog chewed on my ear. Nobody paid attention to Lucky. I thought I should jump up and scream, “Let me help you all find that red shirt!” It was 4:48 in the morning.

Twenty minutes went by. They destroyed the bedroom…but they never found the red shirt.
They walked out, turned out the light, closed the door, and left Lucky on the bed with me.

My hair and face were wet from dog slobber. Lucky had his teeth clenched on my ear.

After a minute, Amanda's mom opened the door and called the dog. I heard her scream as she slammed the door, "You left the dog in there. You are going to wake James up if you're not careful. We want him to feel welcome!"

Looking back, I don’t know if I felt welcome, but I sure felt Lucky.

Sometimes, we treat Jesus the same way. We say, “Jesus, You are welcome in my house, but don't enter the computer room. There are some things in there that I like to look at, but I don't want You to see."

Jesus, You are welcome but don’t look at my television. There are programs that I watch, but I don’t want You to see them.

Jesus, I want to welcome You into my heart because I don’t want to go to hell, but you can’t own everything. You can’t be welcome everywhere in my life.

In the tenth chapter of Matthew, Jesus said, “He that receiveth you receiveth me, and he that receiveth me receiveth him that sent me.” In other words, we should receive or welcome Jesus into every area of our lives.

The point is that Jesus can't be your Savior if He is not your Lord.

Will you welcome Him into every area of your life?

“For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures.” 1 Corinthians 15:3-4

Dad looked out at the vultures circling near the back pasture. I walked onto the back porch and handed him a cup of coffee. He took the cup with his right hand and put his left on my shoulder. I was seven years old.

"Something's dead out there," he said. As he sipped his cup, I looked up at him and asked, "Is it Miss Bossy?" Miss Bossy was the name I had given to Dad's gentle, tan-colored Guernsey cow. We had raised her from a calf. She hadn't come up to the feedlot for the past three or four days. "Most likely," he said.

We lived on a small forty-acre farm. I sat on the wheel cover as Dad drove his old International Harvester tractor. It didn’t take us very long to reach the back pasture. Miss Bossy had been dead long enough to bloat. Flies buzzed around the carcass.

I asked, “What happened to her?”

“All living things die,” he answered. “We have to bury her.”

“Why? Why don’t you let the buzzards have her?”

"Because as she decays, the soil and the groundwater will be contaminated. We don’t know what killed her. She might have a disease that could spread to the other animals. Some diseases can even spread to people.”

I climbed off and watched as Dad started digging. He had a small back-hoe attachment on the back and a bucket on the front of the tractor. Dad made quick work of the hole and climbed down. He attached one chain end to Miss Bossy's back hooves and the other end to the back of the tractor. He climbed back on, pulled the remains into the hole, climbed off, and unhooked the chain. Dad got back on the tractor and used the front bucket to push the pile of dirt into the hole.

Tired of standing, I sat in the grass and intently observed him as he did the job. When he finished, he said, "Son, let's go." I started to crawl back up, but he reached down and pulled me up before I could. He sat me in his lap. I steered the tractor as he shifted gears and ran the pedals.

When we returned to the house, I asked, "Dad, why do things die?" He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Dying is part of living. The trick is to learn to let the dead stay buried and go on with your life."

His words, which I didn't understand then, have stuck with me over the years. I have come to realize that the wisdom of an old Oklahoma farmer is echoed in the Gospel. In 1 Corinthians 15, the Apostle Paul clearly stated that the Gospel is the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He died to take away our sins and rose to defeat death, but why does the Bible emphasize His burial?

In first-century Israel, when a Jewish person died, they were embalmed, wrapped in linen, and buried in a tomb. That is what Jesus did with our sins. Paul also wrote in Galatians 2, "I am crucified with Christ…" Not only have we been crucified with Christ, but we have also been buried with Christ. Your past isn't just dead; it's buried.

The point is that if you are a believer in Jesus Christ, your old life is buried. Through His death, burial, and resurrection, you can be raised to live a new life of victory.

Are you preyed upon by buzzards of guilt? Is the devil buzzing around the bloated carcass of your old life? Does the stench of past sins remind you of the person you once were? Is the disease of your past killing your present?

You don’t have to live defeated. If you are a Christian, your past is dead and buried. Let the dead stay buried and go on with your life.

The Overcomer: God's Answers to Overcoming Life's Greatest Challenges

“Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift.” 2 Corinthians 9:15

"You'll shoot your eye out!" Every adult says to every kid who has ever wanted a BB gun, and this line is repeated in the movie A Christmas Story.

The film, set in the 1940s, tells the story of a little boy named Ralphie. Ralphie attempts to convince his parents, his teacher, and Santa that the perfect Christmas gift is a genuine Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-shot Range Model BB Gun with a compass in the handle and this thing that tells time. One of the movie's most touching scenes is when Ralphie’s Dad, the Old Man, gives Ralphie the gun. At the end of the film, the narrator, who is the adult Ralphie, says the BB gun was the best present that he had ever received or ever would receive.

A Christmas present can have a great impact.

Many years ago, before we were married, I asked Amanda what she wanted for Christmas. She said, "My life is so complete now that you are in it; I don't want anything. Don’t get me anything for Christmas.” So, I didn’t. I was young and ignorant. I did not know that when a woman says, “Don’t get me anything,” it means, “You had better get me something!”
That Christmas, Amanda’s parents invited me to their house. Everyone got up early. Amanda, her momma, and her sister were in the kitchen. I sat in the living room with Amanda's dad. I didn't know it then, but Amanda was in the kitchen and said, "I can't believe I have been dating that jerk all this time, and he didn't get me anything for Christmas! I can't believe I thought about marrying him!”

After breakfast, everyone opened gifts. Amanda was sitting with an angry look on her face. She didn’t know I had got her a present, an engagement ring. I reached into my pocket and handed her a tiny box. She opened it and saw the ring and began to cry. I asked her to marry me, and she said, "Yes." Amanda's dad said, "Oh great! Of all the losers she could have picked, I get this idiot for a son-in-law.” Amanda told that story to someone the other day, and she said, "I went from hating him to loving him." She said, "Each day has been the same since. I go from hating him to loving him every day." The ring, a symbol of our commitment, brought a new perspective to our relationship, transforming her feelings from anger to love.

A Christmas present can have a great impact.
A ring is an ordinary gift. Many women get an engagement ring. However, for each lady who gets a ring, it is the most impressionable gift she will ever receive.

The ring I gave Amanda was not much—it was a small, inexpensive ring wrapped in an ordinary box—but Amanda loved it. She loved the ring for what it requested—that she spend the rest of her life with me.

A Christmas present can have a great impact.
God's gift of eternal life is ordinary. It is offered to everyone. But to the individual who unwraps the gift, it changes the rest of their lives. God's present to us, wrapped in Jesus Christ, is full of life and hope. But it is not so much the present as the request behind the present—that you spend the rest of your life with Jesus. Just as Amanda's life changed when she accepted my proposal, our lives change when we accept God's gift of eternal life.

Amanda did not say, “Yes, but I’ll marry you later.” Our life began together when she accepted. Likewise, God’s promise of eternal life is not only when you die. It is now and forever.

The point is: The Gift with the greatest impact is waiting for you today. The Bible calls Jesus the unspeakable gift. He is so incredible; words can't describe Him, and He wants to give Himself to you this Christmas.

Won’t you come un-wrap your Present?

Jesus is the Christmas Present with the greatest impact… and you won’t shoot your eye out.