ON THE ROAD TO "THERE"

There are so many people who only see you and your ability as a means to an end. Your talents are valuable in the eyes of others--and they may see them even when you don't. The thing that you view as a mere hobby, or means of relaxation or enjoyment causes some people to see dollar signs, and sends them to a drawing board to concoct their plan for your life--and the aim to make sure that you are forever beholden to them. 
It is amazing the number of people who are supposedly critical players in order for you to get "there". Some people have a way of making themselves and their services mandatory for your survival, when they aren't. It's important to know better. It's important to know whether "there" is where you want to be.

Too often, the plans of others ignore the fact that you are a human being, not a machine. Your services may be promised in situations where you have no intention of going. Your presence is arranged without your consent. Your words and actions are no longer your own, and you find yourself daily reading from someone else's carefully crafted script. Be leery of those who are always stressing what you HAVE to do because it is a part of "the territory". Beware of those who have no regard for your health, family, time, beliefs, or standards. One of the worst things in the world is to see someone abandon something that they once loved because they allowed someone else to turn it into a stress-inducing chore. If you're going to burn-out, let it be your idea.

Don't let ANYONE scam you into thinking that you need their assistance in order to succeed at that which you are already capable and skilled. Everyone's "help" is not intended to assist or promote YOU, but to further their own interests in an area they seek to infiltrate and establish themselves as a key player. Sometimes, people need you considerably more than you need them, and your inclination to be trusting will not allow you to see it until it is too late. Everyone who talks a good game is neither competent nor credible. Don't let ambition blind you to people who have an agenda upon which you are a temporary item. Some people who approach you with grand ideas don't have your best interest at heart, but a self-serving business plan. They're quick with comments to make you feel you don't have what it takes to be successful the minute you acknowledge that you DO have limitations.

Don't be surprised when you finally see through the motives of others and find that you were always considered dispensable. Don't be surprised to find that the reputation you thought you had has been amended with negative descriptions. Don't be surprised when those, who once had great plans to improve your lot in life, are just as eager to silence or destroy you. Secretly coveting the skills and talents of others cause some to seek to control, manipulate and mishandle those who actually possess them. Your refusal to go along with the plans and schemes of others may cause you to walk alone for a spell. It's okay. You may hear things about yourself that you don't recognize. You may find out that you were overlooked or missed out on opportunities because you refused to play people's games. It's okay. You don't have to fight back or retaliate. When people hang their success on your compliance and you don't comply, their true colors begin to show. When people don't get what they anticipated out of your effort, they aren't going to be happy, and will seek to make you even unhappier. They may even seek to shut you down altogether. Beware of those whose opinions and ideas are unwise, and whose assistance is self-serving.

Truth and justice have a wonderful way of showing up and shining a revealing light on every situation. Don't underestimate God's ability to use what people have devised to destroy you, as a firm platform to carry out his carefully made plans for your life. Un-forgiveness and bitterness, though seemingly justified, are never an option. Keep doing good. Keep working as if only for the approval of God. Keep improving. Keep the joy in what you do. Rest assured, you will be wherever you are intended to be, doing what you are intended to do--efficiently and successfully--if you remember your true source and always give Him the well-deserved credit. Remember God's promises; His truth, and always be true to yourself. Hard work does pay off, but at least one of the people who should benefit from your effort is you.

WEDNESDAY THOUGHTS: POETRY PROMPT----NEW SLAVERY

They lower their eyes

When their master walks by

Jump and clap when he enters the room

When the master says, "Come"

They take off and run

For fear master will lower the boom

They'll forget the needs

Of their own families

Their own households are going without

Their last dime they will give

Till they've no where to live

But secure, is their master's big house

It's misplaced loyalty

That is so hard to see

Especially among thinking men

How a People oppressed

Could now be in this mess

Except this time

"The boss" looks like them

Under guise of religion

With Bible to back it

A new slave is born; 

A new work

Now the gullible think

That the church-work they do

Now eclipses the work of The Church

They are polishing cars

And laying out clothes

And driving, and cooking, and washing

They are grocery shopping

Sweeping and mopping

Repairing, and yard work, and ironing

They are standing on guard

Wiping sweaty brows

Tying shoes, fixing ties, pouring water

And the master's bad kids 

Get more face time from them

Than their own neglected sons and daughters

It's one thing to say, "I appreciate"

It's another to spend one's whole life

Acting like it’s okay

To be a new slave with two masters

And thinking it’s right

From the mouth of the slave

One won't hear, "God said___"

It's always what master says do

If they'd ever just once

Crack a Bible and read it

Their freedom they'd surely pursue

But, until then

In houses across the land

The new slave can be found, near and far

If they'd do a bit more

Dance and shuffle galore

Maybe they, too, might get a new car--

Or a house, or a boat, or a plane

Or more money, more jewelry

A husband or wife

Or just their name mentioned

A little a attention

From master would be very nice

When you enter a house

You know whose it is

No matter whose name's on the door

And today, shrines to men

Masquerading as churches of God

Are like never before

Service is one thing

Slavery's another

Has the need to be praised gone too far?

It’s time to recall

God's no respecter of persons

But we members, certainly are

Are there new slave masters

That some might call "Pastor"

"Apostle", or "Bishop" or "Elder"?

How will you know?

Just watch how things flow

The next time you see one—

If seldom

Will there ever be

Less than twenty-three

Grinning, groveling, and bowing sheeple

Acting as if they forgot

They're supposed to be fed

And worshiping Jesus--not people,

Then you've found the plantation

That looks like a church

Get your keys, coat, and Bible, and run!

Search 'til you find a place

Where Jesus is praised

'Cause a slave is a slave

There just ain't no two ways

And slavery ain't never been fun.

Search 'till shackles are gone

And imposed binds are loosed

Know-- not all leaders oppress

Some do lead

And never, ever forget

The Son has set you free

And, forever, you are free indeed

That God is your portion

He is your provider

It is upon Him you depend

It is Him, and Him alone

That you serve

Perhaps, you forgot that

But never again.

VRWc2010

MONDAY THOUGHTS: "IT'S A TWISTER! IT'S A TWISTER!"

After church yesterday, my daughter said, "We're going to Jerry's". 

Having no plans, I said, "Okay", and off we went.

 
When we neared the Jerry's Pizza and Subs shop, I admit I was a little disappointed, but I generally trust my daughter's dining selections. 

When we passed the Jerry's and kept driving, I wondered if she had seen it. 

We got a little turned around and ended up back where we started. 

There was the sub shop again, coming up on my right. 

When she kept driving, I finally asked, "Is there another Jerry's?" 

I soon found out that there was. The home of the "crab bomb".

 
It was a quaint place, so unassuming, nestled in a strip mall. 

After she parked and we got out, I asked her if she thought she should leave the car windows open a crack, since it was so hot outside. 

She got back inside, lowered the driver side and passenger side windows, and we walked the short distance to the restaurant. 

It wasn't very crowded, and we were seated immediately. 

A very nice waitress took our drink orders and we looked at the menu. 

I love seafood, so it's never hard to decide what to eat. 

There was cream of crab soup and crab bisque, so we decided to get both and sample them. 

I ordered fish, she ordered the "crab bomb". 

Even the steak fries were well cooked, and the honey lemon dressing on my salad was delicious.

It was impossible to eat it all, so we asked for carry out trays, and considered desert. 

The room seemed to get a little darker, and we looked out of the windows and noticed the trees were swaying violently, and the wind was swirling on the parking lot. 

Thinking that it may begin to rain, I asked Lisa if she wanted to go and put the windows up. 

She said that maybe we should think about going altogether. 

Then the rain began to fall right, left and sideways. The lights went out in the restaurant, then came back on. 

Suddenly a ceiling tile fell to the floor and startled everyone. 

The lights continued to flicker off and on until they finally stayed off. 

The storm just seemed to come out of nowhere, but I felt so calm and peaceful just sitting there. 

We'd enjoyed our meal, and sat there watching the restaurant staff scrambling to make sure that everyone was okay. 

With the power out, they were concerned that some customers meals wouldn't be cooked properly. Everyone just seemed content to just wait it out. 

The staff brought candles to everyone's tables, took desert orders, and opened the front door to let in some cool air. 

I wondered if it was a hurricane or a tornado, but wasn't the least bit frazzled or worried. 

Every time there was the slightest noise, a woman across the room would shriek, "Ooh Jesus!". 

If you have to be stuck anywhere in a storm, it's nice to be with praying people, I suppose.

Neither Lisa, nor I had listened to the news or weather report before we left home. 

On the way to church we listened to Garrison Keillor's "A Prairie Home Companion" like we always do. 
The storm seemed to catch everyone in the restaurant by surprise. 

We decided to get some chocolate cake and lemon pound cake to go.

 
Just as quickly as the storm came, it went. 

The rains subsided, and we decided to head home. Once outside I realized we should have all been screaming and stressed out, not calmly sipping coke and ginger ale, and nibbling on crab balls or shrimp. As we drove we noticed tree branches strewn all over the streets. 

I could only imagine how badly it had been for someone in my neighborhood when the storm arose, because they dropped their entire McDonald's, super-sized, Angus burger meal right at our gate. 

There was trash all along the sidewalk. 

The usual river that runs down South Capitol Street near Oxon Run Park when there are heavy rains, however, was, fortunately, non-existent.

We decided to go inside, put away our food, grab cleaning supplies and go back outside to pick up the mess and trash.
The rains cooled the atmosphere, but it was still warm outside. Nothing I was doing was particularly strenuous, but it was my own sweat, not the rain, that soaked me as we worked.

No sooner than we were inside, the sun began to shine. I looked out, and it was as if nothing had happened at all. 

I suddenly felt like singing, 

"It really was no miracle, what happened was just this: The wind began to switch, the house to pitch..."

 
I turned on the news to see what we'd experienced. Was it a twister? 

"Severe" was an understatement concerning the storm. 

A woman was killed when a large tree fell on her car. A six year old child was also killed. 

Power was out in the homes of thousands of people. Traffic was jammed all over the area because of uprooted trees. 

Once again, an overwhelming sense of gratitude came over me. 

There we had been, just enjoying our meal, while a major storm affected our area. 

We got home and had suffered no loss of power. 

All of the trees were still standing. 

I can only imagine what it was like for people who were outside or driving when the storm hit. 

It's amazing when you see what you were protected from. 

It was quiet outside, and everything seemed brighter. I love it when nature cools and cleans the air...and washes the windows...and the car. 

The day was just confirmation that storms pass, and, even in the midst of violent and destructive situations, the best in people still shines through.

WAKING THOUGHTS

Today is a defining day for some, a rough day for others. It's wrought with activity for some and stillness for others. Some will hate to see it end, while others will be happy to see midnight, and tear the page with today's date out of every available calendar. No matter what, we're still here, and that in itself, no matter what the day holds is enough to muster a smile and some gratitude. We all have to remember we're not alone or without resources- even if it seems that way. It's so good to know that.
I woke up with a headache. That's unusual. It went away so quickly, though. There was so much in my heart to say. it just came pouring out as I typed. I'd left the laptop on the bed (wonder what Dr. Oz has to say about that?) and emptied my thoughts until they stopped.

Of course others will try to tear you down. The pity is when they're successful at it, in part, because you helped them.

Consider what God knows and who he is, and if you have to, re-think your plans for the day.

Remember who you represent, and do it with integrity so that looking at yourself in the mirror won't be a shame inducing activity.

"Just this one time" has often been, for some, the last time. Stay focused. Remember you DO have standards that are not negotiable.

Consider the strides you have made with the help of a merciful God. Don't be swayed by the subtle suggestions of one who hates him AND you.

Wherever you find yourself, positively affect the atmosphere- don't let it affect you. Perhaps you no longer fit in--and that's okay.

The landscape of seemingly great opportunities are often riddled with traps. Mischief loves company. Decline its invitation.

Someone despises the progress you've made. Stay focused wherever you are. Decline invitations that scream, "Regression anyone?".

The superficial always pales in comparison to the substantive, and tries in vain to assert it's newness as strength. There's a reason why some things never seem to grow old. Don't compete with, belittle, envy or attempt to replace them. Learn from them.

FRIDAY THOUGHTS: EARTHQUAKE?

The year 2010 has definitely been one of extremes. Extreme cold, 

extreme heat, 

extreme carelessness, 

extreme rhetoric, 

extreme disrespect, 

and fortunately, extreme mercy and grace. 

God isn't TRYING to tell us something. 

He's been speaking quite clearly and concisely. 

Question is, are we too preoccupied to listen?

I woke up to the news that there had been an earthquake in Maryland. 

The fact that I wasn't surprised, can be attributed to my recently seeing a statement, by someone in Houston, indicating their relief that earthquakes don't occur there. 

I was curious, so I checked. 

Just because earthquakes don't happen with frequency in a place, doesn't mean they can't or don't. Texas is not exempt, and neither is the Washington Metropolitan area.

The earth has every right to react. 

I suppose if you were drilled into, raked, paved, raped, polluted, poisoned and under pressure, you'd do a little shaking and shifting, too. 

From the news reports one would think that I would have felt something. 

I can't say that I did. I was sound asleep, enjoying one of my full-color dreams. 

Living in DC, I'm accustomed to hearing everything from exploding firecrackers, low flying helicopters, building and street construction (going on as I type), and heavy trucks. 

I'm near a Metro bus line, Bolling Air Force Base, and jets, headed to Washington Reagan, fly right over my neighborhood. 

Truth be told, the bass coming from my neighbor's sound system, sometimes, might deserve a minor Richter scale reading.

I was more shaken this morning by the news that one of the greatest voices in sacred music was dealing with blood clots in his lungs, and a friend's baby has to undergo surgery. 

Had I experienced the quake, I would have been the first to say so. 

I've never experienced an earthquake, and am not looking forward to that ever happening. 

I have a great love for stillness and stability in all of its forms, and thank God for allowing me to be asleep and far away from all of the activity.

If you don't live in Washington, you'd think it's a humongous place. 

You'd also think everything is a stone's throw from everything else. 

If something is happening near, DC, the media puts it squarely in the city, and that's a little deceptive. 

(I'm always annoyed when Ballou Senior High School, or even the White House is named whenever anything bad happens in SE.SW.) 

DC is DC, and then there's the surrounding area comprising Maryland and Virginia. 

When the media says "DC", relatives immediately think "OMG! It happened on her street! Is she okay?" 

Then they call, and I tell them it's Silver Spring, Rockville, Gaithersburg, Alexandria, Arlington, LaPlata, etc. 

Very few Maryland and Virginia towns are within walking distance to DC unless you live on the boundary line. 

Even when towns are hundreds of miles away, DC crops up in the discourse. 

I realize the media is trying to give a familiar vantage point, but sometimes places get bad press only because of their proximity to a tragic event. 

If it happened in Rockville, I wish reporters would say, "Rockville", and teach the viewers where Rockville is. 

Towns do have their own significance, apart from DC and its historical landmarks.

Still, the thought that the Earth did a little shaking so close by, is a sobering thought. 

I'm sure California residents are calling us wimps, the way upstate New York residents did when we were trudging through over 50 inches of snow this past February. 

Unfortunately, we only hear of significant quakes and those that occur in so-called unlikely places. 

Fact is, there's an earthquake somewhere on Earth almost every day. So much for "Oh, that doesn't happen here". 

Perhaps it would just be wise to be prepared--according to FEMA's guidelines, and more importantly, God's.

"...But what does it say? "The word is near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart,"that is, the word of faith we are proclaiming:That if you confess with your mouth, "Jesus is Lord," and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved." 

~Romans 10:8-10

"Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands." 

~2 Corinthians 5:1

http://www.ready.gov/america/beinformed/earthquakes.html

AFTERNOON THOUGHTS

Truth and right don't require agreement, endorsement or support. They just exist right out in the open whether we choose to see or not.

My opinion doesn't matter. What I believe and think about a thing carries much less weight than what God knows. If you just have to be on a side, choose His.

One can't ever be so consumed with not offending one person, that one becomes totally offensive to everyone-- including oneself.

Happy endings are great, but life does have a sequel. One just has to decide if it's going to be a never ending love story or a painful, graphic horror flick.

MONDAY THOUGHTS: ONE OF THESE MORNINGS: Remembering Walter Hawkins

I'd had such a wonderful time yesterday. 

Worshiping, and having dinner in Waldorf with my daughter, and friends from Germany, had been so lovely. 

When I got home I was a little tired, but in a good mood. 
Even the soda spill, someone had allowed to dry up on the stairs, didn't bother me. I went inside, grabbed the 409 and some paper towels, and went back to the stairwell to clean it up. 

Ringing in my ears were my Mom's words, "If you see something that needs to be done, do it". 

When I finished, I decided to just shower and turn in early--but not before I checked my e-mail. 

I'd left my computer logged on, and immediately saw the Facebook post requesting prayer for the Hawkins Family and Love Center Church. 

My heart sank. 

Death is no stranger; it's coming just as surely as we are breathing (unless Jesus comes back first), but sometimes, you really do hope that certain people will always be somewhere around. Even if you only see them on occasion, you just don't expect the world to be without them. 

I found my daughter, and I suppose the look on my face prompted her to ask, "What's wrong?". 

With emotion, usually reserved for a close family member, I shared, "Walter Hawkins died." 

I began to cry, and she hugged me. I'm glad I was with someone who understood what his life's work meant to me, and how much I adored it, and respected him.

My mind traveled back to an April evening. 

There were a few people seated in the darkened Kennedy Center Concert Hall, as we went on stage to rehearse. Nolan Williams had arranged a Hawkins medley for the Sacred Sounds Concert. 

I'd learned, a few days prior, that I would be singing some of my favorite songs. I couldn't believe my ears when I was told I would be accompanied by The National Symphony Orchestra. 

"Going Up Yonder" was among the songs. It was the first song I'd ever sung in public in my life. I was a terrified 15 year old, who had only joined the youth choir because my mother insisted I find something to do at church. I had no aspirations to sing alone nor professionally, but in my heart, I wanted so badly to sing like Tramaine--even if only in the shower. 

I had never heard a voice so lovely and powerful. 

That day back in 1975, I was going to get my chance to sing the words she sang, but I had to be pushed.
Since 1975, and thanks to Richard Smallwood, my chance to actually meet Tramaine, and sing with the Hawkins family was realized. Bishop Hawkins—all of them— were always gracious and kind.

Thirty-five years later, I found myself standing on stage with some of the finest soloists and musicians in the Washington metropolitan area. 

Someone decided that the music of Walter Hawkins deserved to be honored at one of the most prestigious musical venues in the world. 

Someone decided that his songbook was a vital part of the fabric of American music. 

Someone thought it should be showcased in a place where excellence is the standard, and mediocrity has no seat. 

Someone thought that the nation's symphony orchestra should master Hawkins music, too. 

In addition to other Hawkins-penned tunes, I was going to, once again, sing "Going Up Yonder".  Unlike the first time, I had a sober grasp of pain, heartache, grace, and the priceless basis of my faith. 

Dennis, Larry, Lecresia, Francese, Duawne, and I assembled ourselves, and were given hand held mikes. As we faced the nearly empty seats of the concert hall, a man wearing a gleaming white shirt, waved. I waved back, not knowing who he was. 

We rehearsed the medley a few times, and I was suddenly transported back to the choir stand of Bethlehem Baptist Church. 

After we were done, we went to greet the man who’d waved at us. It was Bishop Hawkins. He took both of my hands and smiled at me. As I hugged him, I realized how fragile he was. I didn't know that he had been ill. His eyes sparkled, and he smiled. I felt like a little kid. I was just so overwhelmed to see him, and blown away when he told me I had done well. Just the opportunity to speak with him and hear his words of affirmation, made me cry. 

When someone has made such a significant impact on your life, there's a part of you that longs to let them know. I'm glad I had the chance, as bungling and incoherent as it may have been. It's amazing how all of the words you thought you would say are suddenly reduced to a big bowl of tears, admiration and gratitude. 

At the performance, it was clear that cancer hadn't stolen his spectacular voice. His dignity and strength were positively breathtaking.

Last night I watched youtube videos of vintage Hawkins performances. 

I talked to friends who were feeling the loss, but celebrating the incredible gift to world music that is the Hawkins Family. 

I smiled, cried, shook my head, and heaved heavy sighs until I fell asleep. 

I talked to my big sister, who is probably the only person I know who loves the music more than I do. She wanted to make sure that what she heard wasn't some horrible hoax. (People do have a way of announcing funerals these days when there's no body to mourn.) I wish it had been a hoax. 

The sobering truth is that years ago, as we clapped, rocked, and hummed along, Bishop Hawkins sang fearlessly, and with authority, of a day in June 2010. He told us, "One of these mornings, it won't be very long, you're gonna look for me and I'll be gone...I'm going away...".

This morning, I put aside everything I was doing and listened to the continuous offering of Walter Hawkins' music that was wisely and fittingly provided by radio host, Gerard Bonner. 

"I'm Going Away" 

"Right On", 

"Marvelous", 

"I Won't be Satisfied", "Changed", 

“He's That Kind of Friend", "Wonderful", 

“Thank You"...

Each song brought back so many delightful memories. Each song testified of a confident soldier who didn't just sing songs, but sought to inspire others to believe.

 

The broadcast soundly arrested my morning. 
The earlier songs reminded me of the day my Dad came down to the basement to investigate what we were listening to. We couldn't listen to "that rock and roll" on Sundays. We must have had the volume up too loudly, and appeared to be having way too much fun to be listening to the mandated Mahalia Jackson or Sister Rosetta Tharpe albums that, for years, served as Sunday fare.

 

"Love Alive" brought new life to the turntable. "It's Jesus music, Daddy! See? Listen!" 

After the music passed his test, it was freed from its Sunday-only prison, and brought light to the rest of the week from then until this present day.

I listened to each track, keenly aware that I knew every lyric and ad lib. 

I don't remember enjoying listening to the radio so much in years. 

It's official. I adore good music. The genre doesn't matter, but when one tags the name of Jesus onto a thing, or declares that it's "gospel" it just ought to have the tell tale signs that there's a relationship with God at the foundation it all. There just ought to be some sign of God and his word that oozes from the lyrics and instrumentation. At a time when the preoccupation seems to be more with charts, numbers, fame, showmanship, fashion, and awards, than encouraging souls, it is more than a relief to be able to listen to music that, at its core, is the redemptive message of Jesus Christ. 

My thoughts, as I listened, only confirmed what I already knew. Walter Hawkins was one of the most articulate and compelling singers ever. His were crisp and convincing vocals, fortified by the Word of God. His are songs of incredible substance and power, replete with excellent musicianship, passion, brilliance, hope, joy and glorious harmonies. 

Good music never grows old. 

Some master the making of noise and trite lyrics that fall flat, and move a listener to do little more than yawn. Others inspire priceless memories, and stir the heart. 

I thought about Quincy Jones' tune, "What Good is A Song". 

Listening to the music of Walter Hawkins, so adequately answers the question, and in my opinion agrees: 

"If a song cannot take you higher, then it's not good enough to sing". 

Competence and excellence ought to be the standard. Sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ ought to be the motivation.

It's raining now. Thundering, too. 

I opened the window to smell the clean air. The sounds that nature makes are glorious. The sounds that we make, and attribute to our relationships with God should be no less. 

Thank you, Hawkins Family for sharing your talents with the world. I am so grateful to have been touched by the life and outstanding musical legacy of Bishop Walter L. Hawkins.