What church should taste like

I had church in my front yard this past Sunday.


My grandson and me.  He is two.  He wanted to swing in our frontyard swing.  He's an amazing athlete.

He can crawl up into the swing and buckle himself in.

What he can't do is swing on his own.

So, I started to swing him.  The more he swung, the happier he became.  The higher he went, the greater the smile.   He was free.  He was moving.  He knew that his grandpa (although he calls me Boss) was 100% focused on him and he was 100% focused on me.

It was happiness.  It was joy.  It was pure unconditional love.

How many times a week, a year, a lifetime do we experience this?  Too few I think is the answer for most.

I'm a Christian man.  I love him with a grandpa's love.  I think that quailifies as lifestyle witnessing.

It was one of the sweetest times in my life.  I believe it made a mark on him.  That was church for me.


My grandson is adopted.  He is from a differnet ethnic background than me.  Love is color blind.  He loves me and I love him.  He knows he is safe in my arms.  The only way to describe our time is sweet.



I went to church recently at a place that has been worhsiping for over 100 years in the same place.

The building is a beautiful red brick building with stained glass windows.  Lots of farmers and ranchers gave way more than 10% to make this place a reality.

And in 2017, it is still populated by ranchers and farmers.  Families that have been in this locale way long before the concrete showed up.


A dear friend is the pastor.  He's the luckiest man I know.  His flock is sweet.  They sing George Strait songs on Father's Day.  The average age is old.

I had a chance to attend a church seminar there.  I asked where the online signup was.  My buddy the pastor informed me that we just signed up on the bulletin board.  There isn't an app for small town love.

We were all to show up and learn and to bring someting to eat.

I spent a Friday evening and Saturday morning with a group of 65 plus year old folks.  We all had pain.

Kids in prison.  Kids with drug problems.  Kids that had turned their back to Christ.  Kids that died before their time.

But, we all ate really well.  Strawberry shortcake, sausage and biscuits, potato salad, honey baked ham, Krispy Kreme's.

It was one of the most humbling, numbing, reality-glass experiences of my life.


And when my wife asked me what I thought, I told her it was sweet.



We are all sinners.  And, we all have a story.

Thank God for the church.  And, the church just means people that gather together.

If you are hurting, there's a sweet place.  If you are in need of harmony, there's a sweet place.


Brothers and sisters, these are the pillars of the church.

It is sweetness.

Peter.  Paul.  And, cholestorol.


The Gospel.  And, macaroni and cheese.  It will cure what ails you.