Is God Trying to Tell Us Something?

Only a few days out from the deadly tsunamis that struck several nations in south asia, government and private agencies are still working at getting their resources into high gear. The damage, destruction, and death are of such magnitude that it will take years, not months, to recover from the devastation.

A couple of websites contain videos of the tsunamis striking in several places. Here they are, I invite you to visit them and see for yourself how chilling and frightening this was.

http://jlgolson.blogspot.com/2004/12/tsunami-videos.html

http://believeinmagic.blogspot.com

We all need to pray for the victims of this disaster, that God will have mercy on the survivors, and pray for the rescuers, that they will be safe and that God will protect them.

And, in a world so filled with hate, violence, sin, and human degeneration, we DO need to ask the question, "Is God trying to tell us something?" Remember, it is recorded in the Old Testament that God brought a great flood on a world that had sunk into terrible depravity. It could easily be argued that we find ourselves in such a world today. I have to wonder, when I realize that a vast majority of people killed and left destitute in the tsunamis were muslims, who follow a false religion sworn to kill or convert the entire world at the point of the sword of islam. Another large percentage of victims are buddhist, hindu, and other eastern religions.

I realize that my statements here are controversial, but they are meant to engender thought only. My own beliefs are that God sent his son Jesus to die on the cross for our sins, and that Christ Jesus is the only way to eternal life in Heaven. That is what the Bible says, and it is what we should follow today. Again, pray for the victims of this great tragedy.

Come On, It's Christmas!

When I was growing up, Christmas was celebrated nationwide in America without any of the grumbling, lawsuits, and handwringing we see happening all around us today. All over the country, from California to Maine, from Michigan to Florida, people are sueing local governments, schools are preventing students from having any Christmas displays in the classroom, even to the extent of previewing the lesson plans of Christian teachers to assure that nothing in them mentions the real reason for the Christmas season; not even the word "Christmas".

Again, when I was a kid, in the 1950's, none of this ridiculous panoply of idiocy existed. In fact, we had great Christmas parties and exchanged gifts at school!(Gasp!). OK, I confess: we sang Christmas carols, praised the coming of the Christ child, and at school we even put on terrific, Christ-centered Christmas pageants! None of the idiotic "Winter Carnivals" that the so-called culture-watch experts present in public schools today. None of the hand-wringing searches of policy manuals to eliminate any reference to Jesus or Magi, or a manger. What under God's Heaven is going on? Where is the free expression of Christian symbolism that once was a normal part of life in this country? Why are other religions free to present their views when the Christian message is expressly banned from the public arena? What is behind this seemingly powerful move to suppress any expression of Christian faith?

When I was a child, I never heard of muslims or ramadan, no one forced American school children to dress in arabian costumes, eat arabian food, and study the koran, as some California districts have done recently, and this "Kwanzaa" thing did not even exist. We were taught that our country, the greatest nation on the planet, was a Christian nation. We were taught, truthfully, too, that we were blessed to live in a free, open Christian nation, one that stood as a bulwark against communism and atheism. As children we were taught that our faith was superior to faithless athiesm, and when Christmas came around, no one was so timid as to ban any celebration of the birthday of our Lord and Saviour. Instead of dreading the necessity of fighting for our rights as Christians, we looked forward to Christmas, anticipating a free and joyous season of gift-giving and singing of beautiful Christmas carols.

Come on, America, it's Christmas! Let's forget the naysayers, let's ignore the ACLU and those who threaten to sue us or to bury us, let's go ahead and celebrate the season with Christmas carols, Christmas trees, Christmas parties, colored lights, Christmas cards, Christmas presents, and all of the rich traditions that we have inherited from our forbears! But let us not forget the reason we celebrate this wonderful season. Let us remember the Christ child, born in Bethlehem, and laid in a manger. Let us remember that we are sinners in need of a saviour, and that Jesus came, God's only Son, to die on a cruel Roman cross, the only acceptable sacrifice for our sins.

Come on, it's Christmas! If you don't know Jesus, you can find Him right now, by opening your heart and asking for forgiveness of sin. He will answer your prayer; your salvation from sin has already been provided by His sacrifice on the cross of calvary.

You will not find a living Mohammed. He died, and he did not rise from the dead.

You will not find a living Buddha. He died, and does not live today.

But Jesus lives today. He died on the cross, was raised on the third day, and is today sitting at the right hand of the Father. He was God and He is God. He is the reason for this season. So, let's celebrate Christmas in 2004 as I did in 1954. God bless you, every one!

With love,

Joe Comer

'Memberin'

Y'all better cut this one out and wrap it in plastic and put it in the freezer where it'll last a long, long time. It might be worth a right smart hunk of change - maybe as much as ten dollars - when I get to be a famous author and your grandchildren are old and gray. Now I recently submitted this for publication, looking for an invite toward doin' a real honest to goodness column. I really hope I nail this sucker to the barn door here. As things change in this here land o' plenty and home of the brave, it got all over my mind as how somebody oughta start 'memberin' things and folks from bygone years in our little neck o' the woods. All this real brainstormin' started when I looked in that lookin' glass on the outhouse wall and realized that I ain't no spring chicken any more. What a shock when I realized that I was no longer a young kid in Lumber City but an old man in Vidalia! OK, time to move along, now.

Now I'm not all that old, and surely not that smart, but for true I remember things like outhouses, homes with kerosene lamps for light, and I still have on proud display my mama's old flatiron that she used to set in front of the fireplace or on the wood stove in the kitchen. There is just no way my kids, or their kids, can picture in their minds what life was like on a small south

Georgia farm only a few years ago. I really hope I can bring back some of that - the pleasant part anyway - and leave you with some warm, fuzzy thoughts that will last for a couple of minutes at least.

The little ol' neck of the woods I mentioned was, get this: Lumber City and environs. Now back in "the day," Lumber City was sort of a long ways from Toombs County. Especially from places like Vidalia. You see, there wasn't a bridge across the River back then. You either crossed in a boat or you stayed on t'other side. Well, right there on the "other side" - - if you're from Vidalia, that is, were some houses and small farms right there on that far bank of the river. In that area known as "the forks of the river," was a farm on the left (if you're going away from the river ) and that is where we lived. Daddy was always happy to go fishin' right there where the river bridge stands today, and he could catch more fish there in an hour than I can today in a whole day. And I thought he taught me all his tricks??

Well, as I said, right there in the forks of the river where we lived, oh, about some 60 years ago, there was, yep, no bridge, and there warn't no paved roads then, either. When my much-abused memory box (22yrs in the military will do that) kicks in, I 'member that the old clay road was also muddy.And it wasn't just a muddy road, this thing was muddy, narrow, and we found on occasion that it was occupied in really wet seasons by a great big, ugly alligator. I don't know if he found the road mudhole better accomodations or what, but I do remember the alligator. I actually saw the bad-tempered ol' beast with my own eyes, scales, teeth, and all. Real ugly, especially a two year old kid!

Now, one day I guess when it had been especially wet, when folks from around where we lived had forged a trail out and around through the woods to bypass the 'gator hole, my daddy decided he was gonna put a stop to the reign of "Ol' Big Tooth." I remember this day especially because Daddy let me, a little skinny, knockkneed kid, go along with him on this Mission Of Great Import.

Daddy had one of those Ford Model "A" pickup trucks. Of all vehicles of every description, I love that one, unique for its "jiggledy-jiggledy" engine sound. No other truck, or vehicle, ever sounded like that, and I wish I could find one, just to listen to that sound one more time!

Well, Daddy put me in the truck, along with his favorite hunting rifle, and off we went, down the two or so miles to where Old Toothy reigned in his watery domain. One reason I remember this so clearly is that I had been with him a few days earlier when we actually saw the old beast. It scared the daylights out of this little toddler! And on this day, Daddy was gonna get rid of him, and he let me go with him! I was so excited!

When we got to the huge mudhole, Daddy got his gun and got out of the trusty old Ford. He told me to stay in the truck, but for what reason I can't imagine! You couldn't have dragged me out without tearing off my fingernails! You wouldn't have seen this kid waging war on an old reptile, uh-uh. Not a chance! I was sure that thing would gladly have me for a snack, and my daddy for lunch. I think Daddy got the hint, asw he grinned and started off with his rifle.

Well, I stayed in the truck, and Daddy worked his way through the underbrush until he found a tree to his liking. Then, to my astonishment, he slung the gun over his shoulder and shinnied right up the tree! Now I had no idea why, but today my best guess is that Daddy had a better chance to get the gator from a perch up in the tree.

We sat there for some time, I have no idea how long, and I heard a few shots, two, three, I don't know how many. Daddy eventually came down, we started for home, and I queried him for the score. Nope, he didn't get the gator, as much as knew. But, you know, I never heard of that alligator again.

Well, the gator didn't have us for lunch, we didn't have any gator tail for supper, and we never saw the gator again. He was a whopper of a gator, and the mudhole was really big. If you'd been around these parts some 60 years ago or so - you just might have known about the big ol' monster gator. The mudhole was still there in 1950 when we moved into Lumber City from our old farmhouse that, for what reason I never knew, was called the "old Bridges place." Many years after we grew up, and I graduated from Lumber City High School, the old dirt road was paved and a bridge was put across the river there at the forks of the Ocmulgee and the Oconee rivers. A small community exists today on the north side of the river, but I can't find the old flowing well where our house was located. The Bridges Place is gone, but the culvert where our lane was is still there - I guess I'm the only person alive who knows about that. I can still find the remains of the old creek where I nearly got done in by a big rattlesnake, and I can tell you right where the mudhole was - - but I definitely can't tell you what happened to the old gator that terrorized a whole neighborhood!

What's really sad is that every single house I lived in as a kid has been torn down. Progress is wonderful, but it has left me homeless! If I could ever find my way into the Twilight Zone I might be able to find one of my old homes. I don't know if that speaks to the kind of houses I lived in, or if it has something to do with how old I am these days.

Thanks for coming along for the ride, I hope it wasn't too bumpy!

Joe

One For The Homeboys!

Three strangers strike up a conversation in the airport passenger lounge in Bozeman, Montana while awaiting their respective flights. One is an American Indian passing through from Lame Deer. Another is a cowboy on his way to Billings for a livestock show. The third is a fundamentalist Arab student, newly arrived at Montana State University from his home in the Middle East.

Their discussion drifts to their diverse cultures. Soon, the Westerners learn that the Arab is a devout radical muslim and the conversation falls into an uneasy lull. The cowboy leans back in his chair, crosses his boots on the magazine table and tips his big sweat-stained hat forward o ver his face. The wind outside is blowing tumbleweeds around, and the old windsock is flapping, but no plane comes.

Finally, the American Indian clears his throat and softly he speaks. "At one time my people were many, but sadly now we are few.

The muslim student raises an eyebrow and leans forward. "Once my people were few," he sneers, "But now we are many. Why do you suppose that is?"

The Montana cowboy shifts his toothpick to one side of his mouth and from the darkness beneath his Stetson says in a smooth drawl. "Thats because we ain't played cowboys and muslims yet, but I do believe it's a-comin'."

From Michelle Thrower, forwarded to me by my daughter Sheryl. Our thanks to both!

Joe

Tribute To A Great Leader

FROM MY CHECKERED PAST #1

A number of years ago, I was assigned to SAC, the Strategic Air Command of the US Air Force, the owning agency of the heavy bomber fleet and the inflicts air refueling tankers, including the older piston-driven KC-97, and later the wonderful KC-135 jet tanker. For those who are not familiar with aircraft, the KC 135 was derived from Boeing -80 and was the prototype of the Boeing 707, introduced in 1955, and still flying today. I think the oldest tankers I worked on were 1956 models, and the newest, 1962.

There is a story which I have heard an awful lot of times, which has been sworn to be true. This story relates to the late General Curtis E. LeMay, the legendary commander of SAC, and later Chief of Staff of the Air Force. SAC was headquartered at Offutt AFB, Nebraska, one of the most secure bases in the country. Flightline access at all Air Force bases is restricted to those with the proper restricted area badge, and entry control points are manned by enlisted security policemen. It is said that on one occasion General LeMay went barreling through the checkpoint on OAFB's flightline in his staff car without stopping for the security man on duty, whereupon the airman promptly drew his sidearm and put one round neatly through the right side of the rear window of the staff car. Slamming on the brakes, Lemay screeched to a stop. Ramming the car into reverse gear, he roared back to the entry point, where the young airman was by now standing stiffly at attention, having belatedly noticed the rank plate bearing four stars on the back of the car.

The general leaped from the car and began to berate the man for missing his target. "S-s-sir," the airman began shakily, "I-I didn't miss. I-I-If you look at the motor pool decal on the back window you will s-s-see the hole in the center of the "O" in "Offutt AFB."

As LeMay went over and placed his finger in the bullet hole, he spoke again, "Son, where you from?" he asked. "And stand at ease."

"T-T-Tennes-s-ssee," the airman stammered, relaxing his stance only slightly, by now certain that he was in for it.

Looking back at the frightened security policeman, the general stated wryly, "Well, I can believe that. But you better get some practice, you missed the "O" by half an inch." Before climbing back into his car, the general took the airman's name and said, rather matter-of-factly, "By the way, get some new stripes. You're out of uniform."

Puzzled, the airman queried as he quickly inspected his spotless, perfect uniform, "S-s-ir?"

"Yes, sergeant. You're no longer an airman first class, you're a staff sergeant, effective immediately."

The new staff sergeant, overwhelmed by the encounter, saluted smartly as General LeMay whipped the car around and left the flightline, presumably headed for the motor pool and a new rear window.

I've heard this story at bases all over the world, and every one who related it swore that it was true. Having served under General LeMay for eight years, it sounds just like something he may have done. He may have been a gruff, demanding old curmudgeon, but he was fair and he ran a tight ship. When he passed away, I think in 1992, I was honored to have attended his funeral services at the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado. I don't believe he was very much "beloved" by the troops under his command , but General Curtis E. LeMay was one of the most respected leaders to ever command the Air Force or the Strategic Air Command. I have to wonder what he would have done after 9/11.......

Patriot Flyer

MERRY CHRISTMAS

I know it's a bit early, but I'd like to wish everyone who stumbles across my poor little site a very merry Christmas! In the spirit of being more spiritual and more true to my very definite position as a born-again and very serious Christian, I am in the process of developing a few articles for posting that deal with some of the thornier subjects that are causing many somewhat unsure Americans to tear out their "ecclesiastical hair." Give me a little time, and if you pray for me, pray that I do it well and that I do not depart from the truth.

Of course, the holiday, or holy-day, that we celebrate this month is Christmas. Not Winter holiday, or some other such secular celebration. As our nation gets more secular each year, we Americans seem to have so much trouble celebrating Christian, or even Jewish, holidays. That should not be, and it doesn't have to be. We can be big boys and girls, and we can celebrate holy holidays just as we always have. The Constitution does not prevent this, it guarantees it. Just as nonbelievers have the constitutional right NOT to celebrate Christmas, we have the right to our celebrations, complete with Christmas carols. If anyone is "offended," I'm sorry, but nothing in the constitution guarantees any one of us that we will have lives free from offense. Get over it. So come on, have a great Christmas, and enjoy the season!

The reason for the season, as has been said so many times, is Jesus. We celebrate His birth, and the gift of our Heavenly Father to all of us who so desperately needed a Saviour, with gifts between each other, songs praising God, and great fanfare. As we continue our celebrations this year, let's keep our eyes on the reason for our celebration - Jesus! And let's all give thanks that God did send His Son to be the sacrifice for our sins!

Merry Christmas!

Joe