Witty Witness

A few mornings ago, I read a story that has really stuck with me. It was from a monthly journal published by the American Bar Association. The story resonated with me for a couple of reasons. First, as a former prosecutor, it made me sick to learn that at 16 years old, a man named Jeffrey Deskovic, was wrongfully convicted of the rape and murder of a high school classmate. It wasn't until many many years later that DNA evidence exonerated him and proved that another man, who was already in prison at the time of the discovery, was likely the one who was actually guilty of the awful crimes that robbed Deskovic of his freedom. However, more than the actual account of what transpired, the response of Deskovic to what transpired, was really what has stuck with me. It may sound like a stupid question, but how you would feel after pleading your innocence for hours on end, then being coerced into confessing to a crime you didn't commit, at the promise of being able to go home, only

Churches are filled with hypocrites. Let me say it once again, in case you missed it...churches are filled with   HYPOCRITES . "I can't believe she did that, girl. Shame on her! I'd never do such a thing. No ma'am, not me." Sunday morning pews are crowded with LIARS .  "Hey buddy, I've been praying for you." "I'm so happy you got that big promotion and things are going so well for y'all." Sunday school classes are attended by BROKEN SINFUL PEOPLE .  Greed. Lust. Envy. Pridefulness. You know...just to name just a few. That's the reality of things, if we can all be adults and speak frankly and candidly. That's also the loudest and most consistent criticism I've heard from non-church goers, about why they don't go to church. You know what, they are right. You know something else, that's a pretty pitiful excuse for not attending. You don't go to church for the company, you go to church for Christ.  

“Do you want to get well?” If you are sick or if you are hurting, that probably seems like a rather stupid question. Of course you want to get well, you want to feel better, you want to be “ok.” Luckily so far in life, I haven't suffered with chronic illness. I have however battled injuries, the chicken pox as a kid, and the flu a couple of times in the past. Man, the flu is bad. If I was asked during the pain or sickness if I wanted to get well, the answer would be a resounding “absolutely!” As foolish as the above question seems, it was the exact question Jesus asked an invalid man in  John 5:1-18 . The passage reads,  “Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish festivals. Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda   and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades.   Here a great number of disabled people used to lie, the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for th

When you have young kids, summer time is equal parts yelling "close the door!" and subsequently trying to round up flies inside the house when the kids inevitably don't, "close the door!" As I walked into the kitchen a couple of evenings ago, I could hear the familiar buzz of a fly behind the closed blinds of our kitchen window.  As I lifted the blinds, I watched the fly frantically trying to escape through the glass. The fly would temporarily lift itself away from the window, then slam itself back into the glass. I'm sure the whole event was terribly confusing for the fly who could see the goal, but couldn’t quite attain it by itself. There was an invisible barrier unbeknownst to the fly clouding the fly’s perception of reality and the hard truth of the solid glass barrier. I tried for a minute or so, with an open hand, to encourage the fly away from the glass and back out through the open door that awaited, but either I'm a terrible fly wr

I could tell from her voice that she was worried. Amber called me at work and asked that I come to the doctor’s office. After the short drive to the medical park, I took my usual seat beside the ultra sound table and looked up at the large screen on the wall. I watched and I waited to see movement. Movement would be an indication that my son, Cooper, was ok. Movement would mean we were worried for no reason. So, I waited. The technician readjusted her position on Amber’s stomach, and I waited. After a few minutes, the terrible and heartbreaking realization set in...I would never meet my son, Cooper, in this lifetime. So, I cried . That afternoon I cried , and I’ve cried many afternoons since. I have three amazing and healthy kids, and for that I’m thankful and blessed. However, my heart will always hurt and long for the son Amber and I made together, for the son we lost together. But men don’t cry. I remember as a kid, the first few seasons of “kid pitch” baseball was like dodg

Growing up in East Tennessee, I've luckily not had to suffer through many major storms, not in the traditional sense anyway. Other than the less than occasional severe thunderstorm with minor hail, our region is somewhat insulated by the surrounding mountains. Recently however, a summer storm knocked out the electricity at my house. I quickly rushed to the pantry and started pulling out flashlights that I had bought previously at Home Depot and Lowes. Very rarely do I get the chance at home to feel useful and handy, so when the opportunity presents itself, no matter how insignificant, I have to act swiftly. Amber always gives me a hard time about my collection of flashlights, but there is peace of mind in knowing that I'm prepared should a major storm come . I am of course fully aware that the scenario I mentioned above, is nothing compared to the devastation many across the globe have to endure on a somewhat frequent basis. There's nothing normal or "natu

Everyone has a story. Some people lack brevity and take more time to tell their story than others (Sorry, Dad. I still love you).  Here's the deal, each person's story has been penned by the hand of God over the course of their entire life . Your story is uniquely and perfectly written for you through God's will. If your story is like mine, it has happy chapters, sad chapters, and at least a few chapters of "Oh boy, here goes this dummy again." Regardless of the skill of the story teller, it's important that others hear your story, and its important that you hear theirs. In a small group recently, we discussed the following excuses people often give for why they don't share their story and their faith with others (paraphrased): "The world is too big, nothing I do will change a thing." "The pace of life is too quick, there's simply not enough time." "We are too different, we are too far apart to relate to each other.&qu

MY WIFE: 13 years ago today, I married my best friend. When I was asked by the minister if I would take Amber to be my wife, I gladly answered, "I do." That July day in 2005 was a happy day indeed. Today, 3 kids and lots of calendar flips later, I still do. The marriage ceremony for me was an outward expression of an inner realization. I knew without a doubt, I wanted to be with Amber every day for the rest of my life. I knew my life would be meaningless without her in it.  The wedding ceremony and reception were awesome. The honeymoon was great. But then we came home. Then marriage became real. Amber had recently finished college, and she was working as a bank teller. I was headed back to Virginia for my final year of law school. Our first year of marriage was spent visiting each other on weekends. When I graduated law school, I came home for good, but I brought crushing student loan debt home with me. I'll never forget one of our first fights as a married coupl