Liberal scholars and minimalist archaeologists are standing on their heads today, trying to figure out the latest headlines from Israel.  Even the left-leaning National Geographic is admitting the sensational nature of the discovery and announcement by Dr. Eliat Mazar regarding the wall Solomon built around Jerusalem according to 1 Kings 3.  Verse 1 of that passage says:

Solomon made an alliance with Pharaoh King of Egypt and married his daughter.  He brought her to the City of David until he finished building his palace and the temple of the Lord, and the wall around Jerusalem.

The National Geographic headline is: King Solomon’s Wall Found—Proof of Bible Tale?

The second sentence of the article says: “The discovery appears to validate a Bible passage….”  This story is all over the news.  Here are some links if you want to read more about it here and here and here.

While in Pigeon Forge last weekend, I discovered a new sport – Zorbing.  It’s a New Zealand invention.  In essence, you bounce down the side of a mountain inside a rubber ball.  It puts quite a bounce in your step. It reminds me of when, as boys, we used to roll down the hill at Roan Mountain in a barrel. I’m a firm believer that one should never grow up.

Listen to my radio interview with former TDF member Andy Farmer on Missouri station KNEO on Thursday and Friday (February 25 and 26) at 1 pm central time.

In his classic book, How to Stop Worrying and Start Living, Dale Carnegie told the story of Robert Moore, one of 88 men who sank in the submarine Baya of the coast of Indo-China in 1945.  While on patrol, they were detected by the Japanese Navy.  The Baya battened its hatches, went down 150 feet, turned off all the fans and electrical gear, and tried to be absolutely silent in the water.

Suddenly six depth charges exploded all around them, pushing them down to the ocean floor.  The men were terrified as hour after hour depth charges exploded all around them. The sailors were ordered to lie quietly in their bunks, remaining absolutely calm.  But the men were so frightened they could hardly breathe, and at any moment they expected the vessel to be ruptured.  With the fans and cooling system shut of, the air inside the sub was over 100 degrees, but Robert Moore said he was so chilled with fear that he put on a sweater and jacket.  He was coated with a cold, clammy sweat.

The attack continued fifteen hours, and those fifteen hours seemed like fifteen million years.  Robert’s whole life passed before him, and all his prior worries seemed to fade into insignificance compared to this.

How big all those worries seemed years ago! But how absurd they seemed when depth charges were threatening to blow me to kingdom come.  I promised myself then and there that if I ever saw the sun and stars again, I would never, never worry again.  Never!…. I learned more about the art of living in those fifteen terrible hours in that submarine than I had learned by studying books for four years in Syracuse University.

Robert Moore and the men on board the Baya did survive the attack, and he came away with a different perspective on life. 

One of the ways to live with less worry and more joy is to consider what might have been, then rejoicing that it wasn’t. If you’re needing a little more joy and thanksgiving today, just think of all the disasters the Lord has prevented, all the trials that have not come, all the diseases you don’t have, all the heartaches that haven’t appeared.  Things could always be worse; so be grateful they aren’t.

And thank Him for His shield of favor.

Winston Churchill, famous for his quips and quotes, once said:  “There is nothing more exhilarating than to be shot at without result.”

In other words, it aids our spirit of gladness and thanksgiving to consider all the things that have not happened to us.

One day, according to a time-honored story, St. Francis of Assisi longed to see his brothers. They agreed to meet in a remote monastery in the Umbrian mountains of central Italy. After arriving and enjoying their reunion, each reported what he had experienced on the road.

One Franciscan brother who had traveled on muleback said: “God protected me in a miraculous way. When I was crossing a narrow bridge over a deep mountain gorge, the mule jumped. I fell and narrowly escaped falling over the wall of the bridge into the gorge. God by his love saved my life.”

A second brother said: “I had to cross a river and I slipped and fell. The waters carried me down the river. But God in his grace provided a tree which had fallen across the river. I could grasp a branch of that tree and pull myself ashore, thanks to God’s miraculous mercy.”

Then St. Francis said: “Let us thank God for his wonderful works. I did experience the greatest miracle of all on my way. I had the smoothest, most pleasant, completely uneventful trip.”

We should rejoice in every safe and uneventful trip as gladly as if saved from a near disaster.  Thank the Lord for His constant oversight.

PS – The Francis stoy is from John H. Townsend, in Pulpit Digest, September/October 1979, p. 53.  On a personal note, I’m speaking this weekend at a retreat in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.  Be in prayer for Joshua Rowe as he preaches at TDF, and for our all-music night of praise and worship.

A thankful, cheerful spirit can be cultivated by considering what might have been, and then rejoicing that it wasn’t.  There’s an article on CNN today about the emotions of the passengers aboard Northwest Flight 253, now that some time has passed since they were nearly killed by the Christmas Day Underwear Bomber.  One of the passengers, Roey Rosenblith, 25, had a great thing to say.  This is very preach-able (except maybe for the beer reference).

Though this might sound strange, for me personally almost getting killed 30,000 feet above the earth by an al Qaeda terrorist has been one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.  Now being alive, seeing the blue sky, hearing the rain fall, eating a delicious meal, drinking a beer with a friend – everyday stuff just feels like an amazing gift…  I feel as though I’ve somehow cheated death and against all odds been given this gift of continuing my life.

I actually have my boarding pass framed now, and it’s sitting on my desk, right next to a little prayer book I keep with its page turned to Psalm 23.  I keep it there simply to remind myself that whatever happens to me, things could always be far worse.

It reminds me of an incident from the life of St. Francis of Assisi, a quote from Winston Churchill, and from a story from a Dale Carnegie book.  I’ll post those over the next few day.  It’ll make a good multi-part series on the joys of not being killed.

Speaking of the weekend, I’m leaving today to speak at a Pigeon Forge retreat sponsored by my friends, Jerry and Linda Scarborough, of Columbus, Georgia.  It’s a beautiful weekend with lots of sunshine, and I’m looking forward to the trip.  Thanks to all who hold us up in prayer.

Today at the Alabama Ministers and Workers Conference, I shared the six C’s of guidance, and someone suggested it for a journal entry, so here it is.  Let me hasten to add that here at the Dothan conference, Randy Sawyer’s messages and those of Cliff Donaho have been excellent.  Thanks to both of them for their encouragement!  And my thanks to Heath Hubbard for driving down here with me and for his help and fellowship.

1. Commit your decision to the Lord in prayer.
2. Open the Covers of the Bible and seek Scriptural direction.
3. Seek the Counsel of those who know more about the matter than you do, for “in a multitude of counselors there is safety.”
4. See how the Circumstances are leading
5. Very often, an inner Conviction will begin to develop. The Holy Spirit helps us instinctively know what to do
6. Finally, Contemplate the issue. Think it through. God gave each of us a brain, and He expects us to use it to arrive at a wise and sanctified decision.

Katrina and I had a very moving experience yesterday that we’ll never forget.  I officiated the funeral of Corporal Jeremy McLaren, 28, the first officer in the history of Spring Hill, Tennessee, to die in the line of duty.  His mother, Lois, attends our church and is in Katrina’s LifeGroup.  It was a long and emotional service, especially when Jeremy’s five-year-old nephew, dressed in a full police uniform, was inducted into the Spring Hill Police Force, a moment that brought the toughest officers to tears.

The motorcade to the cemetery was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.  There were hundreds of patrol cars in front of us and behind us, all with flashing blue lights.  As far as we could see, it was like a twinkling ribbon of blue. We processed through Spring Hill, tracing Jeremy’s patrol route one last time.  On the streets, groups of citizens gathered waving flags or with hands over their hearts.  Many were standing at attention and saluting.  City workers came out of their offices, children from their schools, men from their barber shops, families from the stores and restaurants.  All of them stood at attention while the hearse, surrounded by motorcycle escorts, passed by.  The fire department raised ladders on their trucks and suspended large American flags through which we passed.  Mourners stood on overpasses, waving flags.  Traffic was shut down on the freeways with cops standing at attention beside their vehicles at every ramp, saluting their fallen partner.

At the cemetery, Jeremy was honored with a rider-less horse, a full honor guard, a 21-gun salute, a helicopter flyover, bagpipes, a bugler playing taps from a nearby hillside, and a radio last call.

In my remarks at the funeral, I said that Jeremy had chosen a noble and proud profession; he was clad in blue and he served with honor.  He was part of a force that guards us day and night, keeps us safer than we know, and on whom our lives depend.  We can credit him with a job well-done and a life well-lived. And at the request of his family, I was able to present the Gospel to two thousand law enforcement officials and community leaders.  I spoke from John 11, so pray that the Word of God will bear fruit in someone’s life.

And as the Lord lays it on your heart, please remember his family in prayer.

Wade Kilgore and I are just back from Birmingham where I had the opportunity to speak at the company meeting for Cook’s Pest Control. This is an industry leader, respected throughout the South, an established company led by wise and gifted folks. I spoke about coffee, specifically about starting each day with a cup of JFG:  Joy, Friendliness, and Gratitude.

I thought it’d be appropriate to share a couple of coffee stories, but they might have been a little lukewarm.  I’d like to see what you think.

The other day, Jack told me he’d gone down to Wal-Mart to get a new coffee-maker, and he found one with lots of features.  Returning home, he pulled the thing out of the box, took off the wrapping, and read the directions.  It said you could put the coffee in the basket, put the water in the back of the machine, set the timer, go to bed, and when you got up your coffee would be ready.  I saw Jack a few days later and asked him how he liked his coffee maker.  “Oh,” he said, “it’s wonderful except for one thing.  I don’t understand why I have to go to bed every time I want to make a pot of coffee.”

I tried a cup of his coffee. “This coffee tastes like dirt,” I said.  “That’s funny,” Jack replied, “It was just ground this morning.”

You’d think people would be rolling out of their chairs over those jokes, wouldn’t you???

There’s a fascinating article in today’s New York Times that has tremendous significance from a spiritual perspective.  It’s about that fact that people die in the Philippines whenever they hear Frank Sinatra’s song, “I Did It My Way.”

 I’m a minor Sinatra fan and sometimes play one of his albums on my iPod while cooking or cleaning around the house.  But I’ve never liked “My Way.”  It’s my least-favorite Sinatra tune – morbid, fatalistic, sad, openly arrogant, humanistic, and defiant.  It’s about a man who is dying and, looking back over his life, feels good about the fact that he has done things his own way.

 Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew

When I bit off more than I could chew;

But through it all, when there was doubt

I ate it up and spit it out.

I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way.

 Well, there’s something about this song that releases an unhealthy, self-assertive energy in bars and karaoke restaurants in the Philippines. People get into fights and literally start killing others while the music’s going. This song has now been stricken from many nightclubs there because it fuels deadly fights.  No one knows how many people have been killed during the singing of “My Way,” but the police have a subcategory of crime dubbed “My Way Killings.”

 I don’t need to add that the “My Way” philosophy is the very essence of anti-Christian thinking.  As believers, our aim is to please Christ in every way.  We don’t come to the point of death and look back over our lives with fatalistic defiance.  We want to be able to say, “I have finished the work You gave me to do.”

 Our attitude is: “I did it His Way.”