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A Rancher's Rumblings |
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July 10, 2007 REAL BAPTISTS, CRAZY GOATS, AND LESSONS LEARNED I suppose a few of you noticed I skipped last week—yep, didn’t write a word—just needed a break. I marvel at how local pastors come up with a sermon every week, and I am glad I do not have that challenge. I served as a pastor only once, but the demand to “say something fresh about Jesus” every week is a challenge, not because Jesus and the Bible do not have a lot to say, but because we humans just run out of energy. A Failure to Communicate? At Home with Real Baptists I think that an even more “at home” experience will be the New Baptist Covenant meeting in Atlanta next January. Not only will American Baptists worship and celebrate with us as they did in Washington, but so will Canadian Baptists and many other U. S. Baptist denominations, along with the historic African-American Baptist denominations. This event should truly be historic and exciting. It was hot in Washington, but it was still enjoyable. On Saturday, I went to Cumberland, Maryland, and spent the day with friends whom I knew there when I served as a Home Mission Board summer missionary in 1972. We had a delightful time. At the Mercy of Crazy Goats My oldest son, Lance, and his wife, Rebecca, arrived here this past weekend. Having “labor” available to me, I set up the weekend to sell most (turned out to be all) of my current goats, as I have a new set being delivered this week. Most of my former goats were Spanish. I am replacing them with 450 African Boar “redheads.” Spanish goats are crazy—not dumb like sheep, just crazy. I’m not sure why Jesus says, in Matthew 25, that we will all be divided, at the end of time, between those who are “dumb” and those who are “crazy,” but I’ll let a theologian figure that one out. We had heck getting them into the pens and, when we did, several climbed a mesquite tree at least 10 feet high; one huge billy goat tried to jump the fence and got his leg caught in it. I held his horns while my brother-in-law worked him free of the fence. Then he proceeded to run over me; push me to the ground (as I refused to let go of him), which took the hide off of both of my elbows; and, finally, step on my face and my arm, leaving huge bruises. By the end of the day, my energy was gone again, sapped by heat, old age, and crazy goats. So What Have I Learned?
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