Jackie’s Blog

My IRA has shrunk.

My waist has expanded.

My home’s value is down.

My home’s expenses are up.

Diesel fuel remains way above gasolline in price.

The trees and lawn have produced more leaves and more moles than at anytime in 15 years.

Our central heat unit died a sudden and unexpected death.

The pressure tank for our well is dying a slow and painful death.

And, just when I think things can’t get any worse………..Rolling Stone Magazine announces its 100 greatest singers of all time…….and Elvis is bumped to THIRD…..behind Aretha Franklin and Ray Charles! How can this be???????? http://www.rollingstone.com/news/coverstory/24161972

I’m open for suggestions……meds?…….meditation?……….therapy?…….I’m struggling to cope!

We plant seeds; God does His work in connecting all the dots. I’ve blogged about dot connecting before; this story is just too amazing to omit; so, here I go again.

In 1980, while making Saturday visits on a Joy Bus route, a 7-year-old boy told me he couldn’t come Sunday because his pants were too big, and he had no belt. I went to Wal-Mart, bought one and took it to him. It didn’t cost much and was an easy thing to do. He and his brother and sister rode the bus until they moved, and I lost track of them. Several years after we moved into our new home in Little Flock, a man called. He introduced himself as Ronnie Hawkinson. I remembered the name, but nothing more. He said, “Jackie, remember the boy you bought a belt so he could come to church? That’s me.” He went on to tell me his life story up to that point. He’d been arrested and sent to prison for 6 years. He related his journey; the fights; the isolation; the horrors. Yet, he found faith. He said he had to call me as soon as he got out so I would know that what this church did long ago affected lives. We talked a long time; I told him I loved him, he told me he loved me. We hung up.

He called last week. He had been in prison again; while on parole he had been where he should not have been; when the police came, he was swept up and sent back to prison for another 2 1/2 years. He’s out now, has a family, has a good job and is still faith-filled; he is also still appreciative of what others did for him long ago. We met for breakfast Thursday morning and, for two hours, he gave me so much encouragement. He talked about Terry Kitterman; he was so thrilled to hear of how Terry’s new life affected so many. Ronnie spent  time in prison muscling-up, both outside and inside. He has the scars of his past life, again, both inside and out; but, he carries the cross of Christ all over the nation’s highways.

An old ragged Chevy bus and a little Wal-Mart belt- if you and I chose the ingredients for this recipe of touching lives, who would have ever imagined that combination?

I tell our folks often, ‘If you miss a Sunday here, you always miss something special.’  Now, to be honest, some question that; my reply usually is, ‘If you come seeking and expecting, God always delivers. It depends on what you’re looking for.’ Yesterday was no exception.

A sweet lady with five (yeah, that’s five or cinco if you speak Spanish) children. She just showed up, said she had heard about this church and was looking for a place for herself and her kids to attend. On a scale of 1 to 100, that was about 103. Darlene Williams, Kristy Brown and others ministered to her.

We mentioned our need for more coats to aid our community coat-giveaway; last year, we gave away over 800 and collections are running behind. Mike Tibbs made a simple request for help; during our stand & greet time, someone slipped me a check for $200 to buy coats. On a scale of 1 to 100, it was, well, you get the picture.

The widows support group luncheon was after the late service. Guests were approached by these wonderful ladies and invited to join. Some did. A lady seeking assistance was to meet with the committee. She asked if she could stay for services (asked??), met several folks, was told about the pot-luck dinner, but said, “I don’t have anything to contribute.”  One of our widowers told her, “Me either, but I’m going.” She stayed and ate; there’s no question she got a sweet taste of Christian fellowship from that amazing group.

Sunday night, a young man visited. I met him afterwards. The first thing he said was, “I’ve visited churches of Christ all over 4 counties and this is the first one I’ve ever seen with no children.” I laughed, then explained that we have home groups on Sunday nights and most of our young families are involved; also, the children of those who attend the auditorium on Sunday nights were either in the nursery or in the Kids for Christ Super Stars down the hall. We talked for quite a while. He’s very interested in our SOLE (singles) ministry. I can’t wait to tell Marshall.

Our new ‘Connections’ area, the coffee bar at the north entrance, was so crowded between services that you could not avoid fellowship if you tried! 

Ah, Sundays….they are always a treat!

As a young man, I had no idea there were so many side roads, bumpy roads, pot-holed roads and dead-end roads that could take God’s people off the freeway of carrying out the Great Commission. As an old man, and getting older, I now better understand why. We seem to travel forward only a short distance before veering off on some non-essential issue that slows us down to a crawl; and, when it finally leads to nowhere, we have to travel back to the place we turned off and start again, fully knowing there will be another detour somewhere up ahead. Where did we first start leaving the freeway?

Christians in America have a most unique existence. We live in a nation whose name still gives me goose bumbs when it’s said aloud: The United States of America. What a great name! And, what a great country. We enjoy freedoms that few enjoy anywhere on earth. Yes, we have problems, as people always seem to have; but, we have freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom to pursue enterprise, freedom to worship, freedom to travel and freedom to vote.

As citizens of God’s kingdom, our freedoms are multiplied and magnified. We are freed from the bonds of sin, freed from our past, freed from penalties of the Law and freed from the shackles of works. Our Lord Himself said, ‘If the Son sets you free, you are free indeed.’

As citizens of God’s kingdom, we enjoy these freedoms regardless of the nation in which we reside. But, unlike many Christians worldwide, as citizens of America, we are given freedom to select our leaders. Wow! Dual citizenship in one location! So, to God’s people everywhere, rejoice in the freedom Christ gives you and exercise the freedom America gives you -VOTE!  

I attended a funeral for a young man yesterday. I’d known him when he was a little boy, when he and his sister and cousins rode one of our Joy Buses. Preston & Joyce Garrett and Bill & Geraldine Bohannon were the first connection with his good family. In a remarkable alignment that only God could bring together, many years later he and his family would connect with Christians in a sister congregation, brethren who share a deep love of souls. He and his wife, along with his mom and dad and other family members, helped to spread the Good News by doing what others had done for him, by planting the seed. 

Last week, his young man sacrificed his own life in saving the life of his own son. In the view of the world, it was a life cut short, a needless accident from which nothing good could ever come. Not so.

The small funeral home in Pea Ridge, AR was the site of the visitation. It was scheduled from 6pm-8pm. I arrived at 6:25pm. Traffic was backed up, no parking was available closer than a block at a nearby church lot and 2 lines formed from the front doors out and down both sides of the street for at least 200 feet in each direction. I circled the block 3 times, concluded I’d be standing on my wrecked knee for at least an hour and opted to call the family later. I was told that over 700 attended, and the last ones did not leave until after 10pm.

The funeral service was held in a building that seated 400. Thirty minutes before it began, the auditorium was filled to SRO; the foyer was overflowing; those of us with 4-wheel drive vehicles were directed to a hillside; and, some folks simply drove through and left, unable to find a place to park.

One man, a dump truck driver, had met Jesus. Introduced to Him as a child while at Southside, he was later mentored and discipled and baptized into Jesus at Grace Harbor. Freed from the sins of his past and walking in the continual cleansing of forgiveness, he wanted to share this Good News with everyone. From his funeral, he went a long way toward doing that very thing. I was reminded of my favorite song, Ray Boltz’ powerful, ‘Thank You.’ If you’ve never heard it then find it, buy it, play it and you will know, having never met, Terry Kitterman.

Influence - 1) love God; 2) love people; 3) live the Life; 4) plant the Seed. When someone does it, as Terry proved, you cannot measure a person’s influence this side of eternity - oh, but wait until you see who’s at the homecoming! 

What a marvelous experience for my wife and me to see parts of the country we would probably never have been fortunate to see. As much as possible, I’ll recap the journey.

Along with our friends Ron & Polly Connolly, we left NW AR on Oct 3, arriving in NYC in the afternoon. After a taxi ride from LaGuardia to the hotel, during which we all agreed our prayer life was strengthened mightily, we unloaded our baggage at the hotel on the upper east side. Having a full day Saturday and parts of Friday & Sunday, we saw as much of the Big Apple as we could. My wife was blown away at Time Square & Grand Central Station Saturday night - they’re a bit more than downtown Rogers!

One of the highlights was to worship with the Manhattan church. The brethren were kind and cordial, the fellowship warm and welcoming, and the services refreshing and uplifting. What a treat!

Departing NYC on Sunday afternoon, we sailed all the way to Nova Scotia, arriving early Tuesday morning. The trip ashore at Halifax was great.

From there, we sailed down to St. John’s, went ashore and saw so many wonderful sights.

We sailed from there to Bar Harbor, ME. WOW! What a gorgeous town! It looks like a Norman Rockwell painting, only better. This was the site of my wife eating her first whole lobster; well, actually, she didn’t eat the whole thing, I helped. But, it was her first time to have one. She said she couldn’t look at or make eye contact with it - she’s a hoot!

From Bar Harbor, we sailed to Boson, MS. Being a NY Yankee fan, I had not realized there was so much to like about Boston. We saw: Paul Revere’s house; Harvard (yes, I can now say, “I’ve been to Harvard.”); JFK Library; site of Boston Tea Party; Fenway Park; the Cheers bar (sadly, I didn’t go in and see if everybody knew my name); and, the most incredibly luxurious jail that tax money can buy.

From Bar Harbor, we cruised into Newport, RI. There we saw more sailboats than I could have imagined existed in the whole world, let alone in one harbor. The views were amazing!

Finally, we sailed back to NYC. We had to set our luggage outside our room before retiring the last night, just keeping what we needed to get ready the next morning. We disembarked, cleared customs, rode a bus to LaGuardia, spent an eternity in line, finally got checked-in, then headed for security. It was there the suspense mounted. My leg brace triggered the alarm, as it always does. While I waited behind a plexiglass partition, with hundreds of passengers crowded around, a police officer tapped on the glass and pointed me to the lady checking the scans. She was leveling me with the look a mother gives her 15 year old son when she’s told he was seen smoking a cigarette - it was a withering glare. She slowly unzipped my carry-on and extracted my wife’s large can of hairspray. She held it up, raised an eyebrow at me and firmly set it down. She then reached in and pulled out my wife’s can of mousse, arched the other eyebrow and firmly set it down. Then she lifted a bottle of Pepto Bismol and my bottle of cologne, closed her eyes, shook her head and very, very firmly set them down. She then gathered them up, never moving her eyes from me and dropped them collectively into the garbage can. I did the only thing I thought a real man should do. I pointed at my wife and mouthed the words, “It’s her fault!”

Oh, what a trip. We can never thank the church here for your generous spirit and love. Thank you, thank you, thank you. This Sunday marks the 31st year since our arrival in Rogers. It’s still a honeymoon for us.

I’ve never, not in 58 years, been off as much as I have this year; and, for sure, never this long in one stretch. Due to connecting circumstances, I’ll wind up being off for 4 weeks. I scheduled a week to spend in Galveston for my 40th high school reunion; Ike decided to crash the party, along with the hotel, the meeeting place and most of the city. My older brother’s health continues to worsen; when another unexpected surgery was called for, the elders encouraged me to take off and spend some time with him. Now, the getaway that the church gave us last year for our 30th year of service begins. I’ll say more about the trip when I return, but the past weeks have been pretty special, too.

My brother will never regain his health; he only spirals downward with each successive issue. But, he is not afraid of dying; his faith is in the One who forgave him - for this, I am so very thankful.

The last Sunday I preached, a man approached me and asked if I was the Jackie Chesnutt who had a step-father named Richard Hoover. I told him, ‘yes.’ In tears, but smiling he said, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for 2 years. My step-father is the oldest son of your step-father. The things you said at Richard’s funeral, about how you struggled all your life with a relationship with him, yet took him in your home to care for him when he and your mother were ill and how the last year of his life you learned to forgive and love him has changed our family.” I’ll not go into the intimate details, but that conversation, conducted in less-than-intimate quarters in the foyer lifted my spirits so much. Maybe at a later time I can explain all the reasons.

Then the next week, Howard Norton from Harding University called. He said that Mackie and I were to be awarded the Distinguished Service Award during the Harding Lectureship. I was surprised and wondered if he had the wrong person (of course, I doubted there were two people with the same names as our’s!). We traveled to Searcy, visited with many dear friends and, sure enough, it wasn’t a joke - Howard called us to the stage. It was quite an honor.

Now, we leave for New York, then on to Canada. What a life God has given us. Lord willing, when I return there will be stories to tell. He really is so very good!

Several years ago, I sat beside a friend’s bed in ICU. I arrived before midnight, gathered with his family in his room and watched death make its slow, but inevitable arrival at 8am. He had been hooked up to the most intricate and advanced instruments medical science could provide; all that technology did was allow me to watch him die, minute by minute; I could predict his future, not because I’m smart, but because the signs pointed to death. Each time his vitals were re-calibrated, the numbers got smaller and smaller…until they were no more.

In recent months, I’ve been allowed time to be away from home and visit other congregations. I’ve enjoyed this rare privilege, but I’m also saddened. I’ll say again: I’m not very smart, but the signs don’t lie - many churches are on life-support and don’t know it. How long do they have? I have no idea, but each time they re-calibrate, their vitals get smaller and smaller. They will eventually flat-line.

My friend found himself on life-support because, when he could have, he refused to change his lifestyle or his actions or his habits. He did not allow others to help him nor did he seek help when help would have made a difference. He simply refused to change.

The church is a living organism; living things are designed to grow. The question  congregations must ask is not, “What can we do to grow?”, but, “What are we doing that is preventing growth?”

Fear of ‘doing something wrong’ paralyzes.

Fear of ‘what will other churches think’ cripples.

Fear of ‘how will my family or friends or supporters react’ slams the door.

Fear of ‘being different’ raises doubt.

Fear of stepping out of the ‘church of my childhood’ makes a kindergarten issue look like a doctoral study.

Fear brings death. It’s almost always slow - and it is so very sad to watch.

Paul Newman died today at age 83, another cancer victim. With those killer blue eyes and his easy-going manner, he was the consummate actor, able to handle any role with such ease. He played a con man, a pool hustler, a hockey player, a private eye, an attorney and a ladies’ man many times. He was Hud, Harper, Hombre and Butch. But, to me, he’ll always be Cool Hand Luke; the boiled egg-eating contest and running the blood hounds ragged are classic scenes.

But, the things that impressed me the most were his long-term commitment to his marriage to Joann Woodward and his efforts to help others. The marriage was his second and had its hard times - name one that doesn’t - but, he seemed to work hard to maintain it. He founded a non-profit foundation to help with drug recovery. His salad dressings were not my favorite, not even ones I bought. But, he began them to produce money to be given away - after taxes, 100% was donated to education and charities. At last accounting, those donations have surpassed $250,000,000.

Newman’s father was Jewish. A good marriage and a generous spirit are two enviable qualities; but, I really wish Cool Hand had known Jesus.