Over the past several years, I have heard a number of country songs referring to “dirt roads.” Usually, the singer is remembering his or her childhood with fondness and especially the friends and family that lived along the dirt road. Dirt roads seem quaint and reminders of a better time. In the song, “Red Dirt Road,” Brooks and Dunn sing of walking to church, racing barefoot, finding Jesus, drinking that first beer, wrecking a car, and learning profound lessons of life on the red dirt road.

I grew up on a dirt road, brown and not red. What I remember is how dusty the dirt road was. From the time I was about four or five we lived in the county on a street aptly named “Hill Street” because the road was on a hill in northeastern Tennessee. To catch the bus about a quarter mile away, one had to walk down the hill and, after completing business in town and returning on the bus, one had to walk up the hill.

During dry weather, the dust got everywhere—in the hair, in the eyes, in the mouth, on the clothes, in the house (no air conditioning, so windows had to stay open), on the plants, and on the wet clothes drying in the backyard on the clothes line. During wet weather, the road became muddy and slick.

Thinking it was doing the residents a favor, the county finally laid down a thick coat of oil on the dirt road. Black, sticky, thick oil that smelled like—well, it smelled like oil. So, while the dust problem was solved, the black oil stuck to everything: the soles of shoes, car tires, skin—anything the oil touched it stained. At least the dust didn’t stick.

Eventually we were annexed into the city which already had a Hill Street so the name of our road was changed to Busbee Street. The city covered our road, and the oil, with a thick layer of gravel. Gravel was infinitely better than either dirt or oil. The dust was held down and the foul smell disappeared. The downside was that, if one had a wreck on the bicycle flying down the hill, the jagged gravel did far more damage to flesh and bone than did the dirt or oil. Still, it was a fair trade even if we had to learn to ride with caution.

I graduated from high school and went off to the Marine Corps. Returning on leave a few months later, I discovered that my dirt/oil/gravel road had been transformed. A smooth, thick, brilliant black layer of asphalt now covered our road. We had entered the modern era. No dust, no smell, no jagged rocks—just a modern residential road.

A few weeks ago, I lived on a dirt road again. The county department of transportation stripped all the asphalt off our road and began the work of road repair. Dust was everywhere. This time, however, since we have air conditioning, the windows stayed closed. And we no longer dry clothes on a line in the back yard. The dust did get on cars, and in swimming pools, on plants, decks, and porches. But, in about two weeks, the asphalt had returned.

I do not long to return to the dirt road, romantic though it may be portrayed in songs. Neither do I long for the oil laden nor the gravel covered road. I like the semi-permanence and relative cleanliness of asphalt or concrete. While long ago memories may call to us periodically, the danger in them is that, if we linger too long or remember them too fondly, we may miss the significance of the experiences occurring all around us. With apologizes to Brooks and Dunn, I’ll identify with Carly Simon and her song, “These Are the Good Old Days.” I wonder if there will ever be a country song about “The Asphalt Road?”

David Epps is the pastor of the Cathedral of Christ the King, 4881 Hwy 34 E., Sharpsburg, GA 30277. Services are held Sundays at 8:30 and 10:00 a.m. (www.ctkcec,org) He is the bishop of the Mid-South Diocese (www.midsouthdiocese.org) and is the mission pastor of Christ the King Fellowship in Champaign, IL. He may be contacted at frepps@ctkcec.org.

Leona and Kent have generously offered to provide the meat for our cookout on Saturday, July 17th. Richard Thompson and David Fjeran are cooking burgers and dogs on the big grill. Also, they are throwing some corn on the grill. Yum!

If you are planning on coming, please email
christina-thompson@hotmail.com
to RSVP and let us know what you can bring.

Please bring a side (enough for 6-8) or a dessert, or perhaps a beverage. As I get emails this week, I will send out another email updating what we have and what we need.

The pool will be open, if you would like to bring a suit. : )

Looking forward to seeing you all!

The Ford’s Address is:
262 Beaumont Farms Drive
Sharpsburg GA 30277

Even as the politicians are proclaiming that the economy is improving, hundreds of thousands of breadwinners are finding themselves without work. It is generally acknowledged that the current financial situation is the worst since the Great Depression. The level of spending by the Federal government would have been considered reckless insanity only a few years ago and the national debt threatens to stifle future generations.

The uncertainty regarding taxation (the only uncertainty is how high taxes will go) has caused businesses to proceed with extreme caution. Many businesses are using the uncertain economy as justification to slash both jobs and benefits. It is, then, understandable that people are finding themselves fearful about the future—both the short-term and the long-term future.

This is not, of course, the only time in human history—or even in recent memory—that people have faced uncertain days. The “baby boomer” generation has lived through the threat of thermonuclear annihilation, the Cuban crisis, Vietnam, presidential malfeasance, plunging stock markets, and a host of greater and lesser threats. Previous generations have encountered their own challenges, both at a personal and at a national level.

Thousands of years ago, the prophet Isaiah, and those of his generation, faced very disturbing and uncertain circumstances. Into this troubled time came a divine word.

So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10 NIV

The two most powerful destructive forces that most people face are the twin emotions of fear and discouragement. Discouragement (or dismay) deals with the present. Fear normally concerns the future. Franklin D. Roosevelt said during a troubled time that, “The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself.” Fear can debilitate a person or a nation and can rob people of hope. Discouragement can keep people from even getting out of bed in the morning. As of January of 2010, 661,000 “discouraged workers” were no longer actively seeking employment and thus not considered unemployed.

The promise of Isaiah is that fear and discouragement are not the only players on the field. Into the midst of these troubled waters comes a promise from no less than God Himself: “I am with you…I am your God…I will strengthen…and help you…I will uphold you.” The promise is that the Creator has assured those who trust Him that they will not go through tough times alone—and more than that—He will intervene on their behalf.

It is difficult to see with the eye of faith when the physical eye sees fearful and discouraging prospects. Yet, this is what faith is about—seeing the invisible and trusting when every sense cries out to trust not. Each day is new with unexplored possibilities. It was belief—faith—that the right would prevail over the wrong that led Sir Winston Churchill to speak of struggle, sacrifice, hope, and victory during England’s darkest days of World War II. Sir Winston would later say, “Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never–in nothing, great or small, large or petty–never give in, except to convictions of honor and good sense. Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.” Never give in to fear and discouragement either. We are not alone, however lonely it may seem. God is with us.

David Epps is the pastor of the Cathedral of Christ the King, 4881 Hwy 34 E., Sharpsburg, GA 30277. Services are held Sundays at 8:30 and 10:00 a.m. (www.ctkcec.org) He is the bishop of the Mid-South Diocese (www.midsouthdiocese.org) and is the mission pastor of Christ the King Fellowship in Champaign, IL. He may be contacted at frepps@ctkcec.org.

The International Order of St. Luke the Physician (www.orderofstluke.org) is an ecumenical organization dedicated to the Christian healing ministry. Members meet together in local chapters to study Scripture, especially the biblical stories of the healing miracles, as well as other books on Christian healing. Members also engage in healing prayer, often with the laying-on of hands. Most ongoing training occurs at the chapter level and begins with a bible study of Jesus’ Healing Ministry as outlined in the 26 Gospel Study lessons. Members also receive training and encouragement from the various missions, workshops and conferences scheduled regularly.

The Convener is a chapter leader and organizes the activities of the chapter; promoting and providing resources for the use of study materials and gives focus to the chapter in terms of its goals and conduct of business. He or she works out active programs of teaching about the healing ministry and provides ways for the members to learn by participating as well as by listening. In addition, the Convener supports associates as they prepare for full membership and makes arrangements for their inductions.

Responsibilities of the Convener include:

Publicizing meetings by notifying members of upcoming meetings and events, notifying area churches with bulletins, e-mail, telephone calls, postcards or newspaper announcements. Invites various church congregations to attend meetings and participate or receive prayer for themselves or others.
Promoting the OSL by reaching out to the community through healing services, missions, retreats, workshops or other events.
Encouraging personal healing ministries for the members, such as visiting the sick, taking Communion to the ill or infirm and providing prayer ministry for physical, emotional or spiritual healing. Included may be other ministries such as serving as volunteers in prison ministry, as lay hospital chaplains, and in other community service.
Meeting with Conveners of other chapters nearby from time to time to share ideas about chapter and OSL activities and possible cooperation with missions or other events
Overseeing the records of the chapter, storing documents passed down from former chapter leaders, maintains or opens back accounts as needed and keeps the chapter informed of chapter finances.
Maintaining membership lists. Notifies the Convener liaison of changes in the chapter’s chaplain, Convener, or member mailing addresses, e-mail addresses, and telephone numbers.
Establishing OSL junior or youth groups.
Mrs. Bar is an associate professor of nursing at the University of West Georgia where she has taught nursing for 28 years. She received her Associate of Science in Nursing from the University of West Georgia, her Bachelor of Nursing from the Medical College of Georgia, and her Master of Science in Nursing from Georgia State University. Mrs. Bar has had a private practice as a certified holistic nurse and has led a weekly Christian based Addiction Recovery Group at a local women’s jail for 6 years. Bar was co-founder of the West Georgia Habitat for Humanity. She is also a prayer minister and teacher at the Cathedral of Christ the King in Sharpsburg, GA. She and her husband Gerhard reside in Carrollton and are the parents of two adult sons.

Article by Bishop David Epps

It’s the bottom of the ninth inning and the opposing team leads by two runs. The team that is behind sends out the relief pitcher. On the mound, the highly paid relief pitcher gathers all his teammates around him and says, “Men, I’m going to do the best I possibly can, but I want to make this perfectly clear—I inherited this situation. This isn’t my fault. The starting pitcher left me this mess.”

Or flash to the Super Bowl. The starting quarterback has been injured and his team is backed up on his own twenty yard line and, with three minutes left to play, faces a six point deficit. Off the bench comes the second-string quarterback and, in the huddle, looks at the faces of the men counting on him and states, “Men, I’m going to do the best I possibly can, but I want to make this perfectly clear—I inherited this situation. This isn’t my fault. The starting quarterback and the defense left me this mess.”

Silly isn’t it? No one expects the man coming on to the field to make excuses for the situation he “inherited.” The fans, the coaches, the other players expect the new guy to “man up,” give it his best effort, and lead them to victory. If he does, he becomes a hero. If he doesn’t—but gives his all-out effort—the fans will cheer him anyway. People like the underdog and the come from behind story. No one, however, can long tolerate a whiner, an excuse maker, or a finger pointer.

Pro athletes, even those who are held in relief, are highly paid professionals. They learned long ago that excuse makers sit out the game, or stay on the bench, or are even dropped from the team. Whiners are morale breakers who are interested not so much in taking the team to victory as they are in covering their own behinds in case they don’t perform up to expectations.

It’s one thing to whine and moan privately to those who are personally close…a spouse or trusted friend, perhaps. But to announce to the listening world, “Give me a break. This isn’t my fault. I inherited this situation. It’s my predecessor’s fault” is the action of someone that is not yet ready for prime time.

The athlete, the business person, the politician, the pastor—everyone who desires leadership roles– have sought the positions they hold. No one put a gun to their heads and said, “You will pitch in the World Series.” No one kidnapped their families and said, “You will seek to be a Congressman, a Senator, or President.” No, they all wanted the job and they wanted it desperately. They worked hard to get where they are. And nearly everybody inherits some sort of mess from those who went before.

Everyone knows when the team is behind or when the political situation is not the best as the new guy comes on to the scene. The expectation, however, is that the person will perform, give 100%, and leave the field having done all there was to do. Blame-placing and finger-pointing is playground stuff, not the behavior of a professional.

If a person is not up to the job, then don’t seek it…or resign. Or even, better, “man up,” accept the burden, quit making excuses, and play to win! Rocky Balboa didn’t win the championship in the first film, yet people in the theaters cheered his effort and heroism. There is no courage in whining and finger pointing. Rocky didn’t make excuses; Rocky fought and, in giving his all, became a hero.

David Epps is the pastor of the Cathedral of Christ the King, 4881 Hwy 34 E., Sharpsburg, GA 30277. Services are held Sundays at 8:30 and 10:00 a.m. (www.ctkcec.org) He is the bishop of the Mid-South Diocese (www.midsouthdiocese.org) and is the mission pastor of Christ the King Fellowship in Champaign, IL. He may be contacted at frepps@ctkcec.org.

I am a “certified peace officer” in the State of Georgia, having graduated from the Fulton County Public Safety Training Center in 1992. In order to keep my certification current, I must return to the pistol range each year and qualify. Normally, I go with the members of the Peachtree City Police Department during their regular qualification times. Because I am a good shot, I enjoy these times.

I qualified as an “expert,” in 1970 with the M-14 rifle as Parris Island (among the 10% of Marines who do so), and I fired “expert” with the pistol at the police academy in 1992. In fact, the lowest I have ever qualified on the pistol range is as an “expert,” with my scores normally allowing me to wear the “master” designation, which is the highest possible at the police department. So, I look forward to returning to the range and trying to match or best my previous scores.

The last time, however, was nerve-wracking for me. The range master announced that, in addition to qualifying with the pistol, we would be expected to qualify with the shotgun. We would fire and qualify with the “old” shotguns that were being phased out by the department as well as with the “new” weapons which were being phased in. We would be expected to qualify on both shotguns. It had been decades since I had fired a shotgun. In fact, I had only fired a shotgun five times and that was on one day and just for familiarization when I was assigned to walk guard duty at Quantico Marine Corps Base in 1972.

It was obvious that the regular police officers were comfortable with this weapon but I was not. In fact, I suggested to the range master that I might just sit this one out. Because I am a chaplain and not employed as a police officer, I could certainly do this as no pressure was on me to qualify with this weapon. He said that the principles of firing are the same and I should give it a shot (excuse the pun). Honestly, I wasn’t afraid of the shotgun but I was mortified at the thought of being embarrassed.

Not only were the officers expected to hit targets which would disappear within a few seconds, they were expected to be able to do something called “combat re-loads” which required some dexterity and skill. Everything was timed. I thought that if all I had to do was to stand there and shoot at a target and not be under a time constraint, I might do well. But I was pretty certain that I would just humiliate myself if I stood on the line alongside these professional men and women. Once again, I remarked privately to the range master that I wasn’t comfortable with this. He said, “Suit yourself, it’s up to you. But it’s not like your job is on the line so what do you have to lose by trying?” “My dignity,” I silently mused.

However, I decided he was right. The only thing keeping me from trying was pride and fear—especially the fear of failure. So, after listening to the instructions about what would be expected, I took my place on the firing line with shotgun in hand and extra rounds in my pocket. When all the smoke had finally cleared and the scores were tallied, I had managed not to be humiliated. In fact, on the two qualifying scores, I had earned a 99% and a 96% score on the two weapons—expert status. I was quietly elated.

Fear often keeps us from taking a chance—for men, the fear of failure or embarrassment is particularly acute. Fear keeps us from trying out for the sports teams, or seeking that new position, or running for Student Council or for local office. It keeps us from asking out the Prom Queen, from calling on that new client or customer, or from starting that new business. For some who have been burned at romance, fear keeps them from risking their heart to another. For many, the fear is ever-present and must be intentionally conquered.

I was elated with my performance on the range and deeply gratified that I had listened to the range master and had swallowed my fear. The fear was still there in the pit of my stomach but it was over-ridden by determination to at least try. The lesson was clear—“What do you have to lose? Give it a shot.” What you have to lose is your fear.

In October 1964, McGee joined the U.S. Navy and served for four years during the Vietnam War, making two tours to the Gulf of Tonkin in Vietnam. In 1967, he was aboard the USS Forrestal when the historic explosion and tragic fire occurred on July 29th. He was honorably discharged from active duty in the Navy in October 1968

McGee and his family were founding members of Christ the King Church which began in 1996. In 2000, McGee applied for and was admitted to the Holy Orders process. He was ordained by The Most Rev’d John Holloway, who was then the Bishop of the Mid-South Diocese, as a deacon in Christ’s one holy, catholic and apostolic church on November 24, 2002. He continues to serve at Christ the King CEC where he is a member of the Rector’s Council and has numerous responsibilities.