“…in whatever our heart condemns us….God is greater than our heart, and knows all things. Beloved, if our heart does not condemn us, we have confidence before God….” (I John 3:20-21)

(If too much transparency is not your cup of tea, you may want to skip this. My sharing it–something I would never have done in earlier years–is partly to deal with it and partly in the hope that someone else may be dealing with the same bete noir and find comfort from a fellow struggler. Misery loves company, they say. Let’s see if it does.)

It defies explanation.

I wake up far earlier than a retired preacher should have to.  Today, there is nothing on my agenda except a few tasks I have assigned myself, and those can be done at any time. If I wished, I could have slept until noon.

If I could, rather. But after five hours of what must pass for sleep, I’m finished.

I wake up with a thousand things on my mind. This week is our oldest granddaughter’s birthday and I’ve not sent her anything. My seminary class has reports to be graded online (which is one of the things I plan to get to today). This house needs some repairs, projects that are beyond me, which means I should be making arrangements with a friend whose company does this. We are trying to make a decision about a new car, and giving my wife’s ’05 Camry to a family member. My work space is cluttered and needs clearing out. The Baptist Press cartoons have been drawn and colored but not captioned and must be emailed this morning. An out-of-state revival is coming up soon, and with the following weekend preaching in Atlanta, I do not like being gone from home that long. I need to be taking better care of my health. Is that thing on the back of my neck nothing or possibly skin cancer? Our granddaughter is recovering in New Hampshire from being hit by a car while on her bike, and decisions are being made there about her future. I wish certain family members knew the Lord and would take their children to church. My next birthday, I’ll be 73 years old. How did this happen so quickly?  How much longer do I have to get things done?

And those are just for starters. You want the full list? I didn’t think so.

And how is your Monday going?

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“For the lips of an adulteress drip honey, and smoother than oil is her speech.” (Proverbs 4:3)

Before there was a folk singer by that name, James Taylor was a professor of preaching. This veteran teacher of preachers held forth in classrooms at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary for many years. One day, in a room filled with young preacher boys, Dr. Taylor cautioned us about the temptations we would be facing.

“The day will come when a woman will sit in your office and proposition you. She will make herself available to you sexually. If your marriage is in trouble or if you are not up-to-date in your relationship with your Lord, you could get in big trouble fast.”

I raised my hand. “Dr. Taylor,” I said, “do you really believe that every one of us in this room will face this?” My mind was incapable of imagining a scenario in which a woman–any woman–would sit in a pastor’s office and try to seduce him.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “Even you, McKeever.”

That got a laugh.

I lived to see that day. (Fifteen years after she sat in my office making herself available to the young preacher, while preaching in another state, I spotted that woman and her husband–the same husband whose antics had given her cause to seek my counsel originally–in the congregation. I was thankful I had gotten this thing right in my office that day.)

The writer of Proverbs tried to do the same thing Dr. Taylor did for us in seminary that day: prepare the young lad for what he would be facing down the road.

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The date on my letter says December 4, 1997.

In a book written by a professor at an Adventist college somewhere, the author was lambasting the rest of the Christian world for worshiping on Sunday instead of keeping the Sabbath. In one chapter, he had run a cartoon of mine and given it a negative slant.

So, I hastily scratched out a hand-written letter to him. Here it is, verbatim:

“Dear Mr. Spencer,

On page 29 of (name of the book), you have printed a cartoon of mine without permission.  You will please remove it from any subsequent printings. I receive requests all the time and am always happy to grant permission to use my cartoons free of charge. I am not surprised you did not ask, seeing the slanderous way you deal with opposing points of view.

Your committee’s name (Committee for the Preservation of Truth) is very humorous. You will have to find the truth, sir, before you start preserving it. Your explanation (in the book) of Colossians 2:16 must have sent you to the chiropractor, with all that bending, stretching, etc.”

That was the letter.

I didn’t send it.

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They say Ronald Reagan had a sign on his desk declaring there is no limit to what can be accomplished so long as who gets the credit is not an issue.

Today, I read about a wonderful revival in a church where I preached a series of meetings recently. In the weeks since our meeting, the church has added 47 new members, with 25 of them first-time believers in Christ. The pastor recently baptized 18 in a local river. “Things are really hopping at our church,” the pastor said. “There’s been an explosion.” (Bear in mind this is a church which typically runs less than 100.)

What I find fascinating about this is that in our revival meeting–and they were precious, hospitable, and responsive–I don’t recall anyone being saved or joining the church.

The pastor said, “We even had a prayer vigil asking the Lord to send revival no matter what the cost. We were asking the Lord to pour out a blessing on us, and we were really seeking His face.”

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We all have our blind spots. Yours is a little more obvious to the rest of us than it is to you. Mine is so much a part of me, I might need your assistance to find it.

“Well, one thing I know–I’m not a racist.”

No one automatically thinks of themselves as in bondage to prejudice. Not even the fiercest member of the most radical white-supremacy group would admit to such. No, he’s just fully aware of the differences in people, he would probably say, and proud of his own identity.

Since racism wears so many disguises, all of them attractive and comfortable–just being who we are, authentically human, our true nature, and “I’m no hypocrite!”–we may require an outside source to call our attention to this alien force which can poison our relationships, betray our commitments, and abandon those looking to us as Christ-figures.

I once preached on racism to the largest church in the state, a congregation without a single minority member, and some of whose leaders were known as staunch defenders of segregation.  It will not surprise you to know I was very young at the time. (Translation: bold, daring, and somewhat foolhardy.)

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