Who's going to be my baby now

Here's the deal.

I'm in this luxurious hotel room in Knoxville and the bed is scrumptious and it's deliciously cool and I am very tired. Or at least I thought I was.

TG is snoring and everyone here at the Hilton has been so nice to see to our comfort. But I can't sleep.

There's a supermoon outside the window, levitating above the skyline and the foothills of the Blue Ridge.

And my baby, my Andrew, is all grown up. No longer a college man, as of tomorrow -- wait, what am I saying? As of today, he is a college graduate.

Well, sort of. There is a matter of an interim class he must take this summer, and a course or two online to finish up. Trifles.

Five years ago he raised his right hand on a rainy April morning at McGhee Tyson Airbase in Knoxville and was inducted into the United States Air Force, Tennessee Air Guard.

In July 2007 he went to basic training in San Antonio, then to tech school in Biloxi. In January 2008 he began studying Youth Ministries at Crown College of the Bible, a ministry of Temple Baptist Church.

For five years my baby boy has balanced the demands of work, classes, family, and duty to his country.

The Air Force has plucked him from his studies not only for one drill weekend per month, but also for random deployments that often take him out of state for anywhere from a few days to several weeks at a time.

For the last year he has served as Director of Youth Camps at Mount Moriah Christian Camp and Conference Center, a ministry of Temple Baptist Church.

I am grateful to say that not only has my son handled all of the above with a gracious and generous spirit (most of the time) and the work ethic that has amazed us since he got his first job at age eight, but he has been faithful to serve the Lord throughout these years.

And even if it offends somebody who doesn't understand -- and never could -- how much this means to me and to their father, I am grateful for the existence of a college that unapologetically trains young people for the ministry while adhering to the old traditional paths of service and standards.

Because Andrew is the fourth of our four children to graduate from this college. Our honorary fifth kid, our fine son-in-law, is a distinguished graduate as well.

In case you didn't know, there are lots of different kinds of Bible colleges.

Some unabashedly and openly claim to be "the greatest" Christian universities on the face of Planet Earth. As if that can be quantified.

But the problem is, at some such Bible colleges students saunter around campus dressed like hippies or bums or worse, and you need earplugs to survive a chapel service -- not because of the animation of the preacher, but due to the decibel level of the drums and guitars being beaten furiously so as to entertain and "promote worship."

At some such colleges young men and women live in much the same way as is seen on the campuses of state universities, where immorality is rampant.

At some so-called "Christian" universities, the sports programs are worshiped as much or more than the Lord could ever be.

At some faith-based universities and colleges, professors teach that it's okay for a Christian to take a drink once in awhile, and we needn't get our knickers all in a twist about it because, you know, everything in moderation and besides, Jesus made wine.

Hogwash.

Let me tell you a story or two. You have time, right? Because I am wide awake and full of information.

Andrew played soccer throughout college. Goalie! The child flung himself in so many different directions protecting that goal, it's a wonder his head is still on his shoulders.

When his team lost and he got the blame, he took the raspberries good-naturedly, then called his dad to vent his exasperation about the loss and some of the referee calls, and his own shortcomings.

On one occasion a few years back, TG and I attended one of his soccer games at a Christian college in another state.

When the soccer game was concluded we made our way to the gym to watch some girls' volleyball.

There was a band situated in the bleachers of this Bible college gym and they played at every available opportunity.

Now, you can believe me or not, but I didn't expect them to play Amazing Grace at a ball game. I'm cool like that. I'm not a stick-in-the-mud; I even have a few Tony Bennett CDs.

But neither did I expect them to play music so worldly, so raucous, so sensual as to make us feel as though we'd strayed into a raunchy bar by mistake.

If that were the only stripe of Bible or Christian college available, my kids' formal education would have ended with graduation from high school. I thank God there was a Crown College of the Bible for my chilren to attend and call their alma mater.

I guess I should be glad that this particular faith-based college I mentioned, along with many others, has long since removed the offensive and divisive words "Christian" and "Bible" from their name altogether.

Just like many churches have decided it would be prudent to remove the word "Baptist" or even "Church" from their names, so as to appeal to those who are afraid or suspicious of those rigid terms.

It's just as well that they have because the leftward liberal drift of these institutions has become so pronounced, the only thing Christian left about them was the name.

Crown College of the Bible in Powell-Knoxville, Tennessee, is not a perfect place by any means. Our first kid enrolled there in 1998 and I can remember at least four times over these years that either TG or I have felt the need to write or call the powers that be, in order to air a grievance or straighten out a problem.

But how many people can say that over a span of fourteen years, each time they visit the campus where their children are students, they come away blessed by the surroundings and by the message and what they consistently perceive to be a sincere intent to glorify and worship God in the beauty of holiness, in accordance with the Scriptural command?

Conservative Christianity is an elusive thing nowadays, and becoming increasingly so. It's been some time since it was fashionable or popular for Christians in a higher academic environment to steer hard right, to embrace a modest dress code, to insist that young people are properly chaperoned, to issue demerits for infractions on the rules, and not to apologize for any of it, and not to back down because some people think it's puritanical, narrow, unrealistic, or legalistic.

It is none of those things.

I am so tired of people accusing those who pursue a higher standard in their lives, and who, for all their human failings, refuse to take the path of least resistance but instead choose the high road, of being legalists.

Legalism is not defined as believing we should live by a long list of do's and don'ts.

Legalism is the belief that one obtains salvation through good works. Period. As opposed to salvation by grace through faith alone, and that not of ourselves, as clearly taught in Scripture.

So stop, please stop calling conservative Christians who have decided to put a finer point on standards of dress and behavior than you do, legalists. They're not.

OK now I sense some eyes glazing over and I don't blame you at all but I'm not done. Just one more story. Make that one and a half.

When we checked into our hotel room I went straight to the window because I always do that. I'm happiest when near a window.

I surveyed the familiar skyline and picked out, as I always do, the two skyscrapers I worked in when we lived here.

Twenty years ago almost to the day, I took a job at a law firm in a building that is so close out this hotel room window, I can almost touch it. It's just to the right of that church steeple.

I didn't want to go to work; in fact, it broke my heart. Not only am I a lazy sort of person who likes to wake up late and slowly and linger over coffee, but my baby Andrew was only three and I was going to have to take him to a babysitter.

I don't believe in sending kids to daycare. If that makes you mad, please do click out. Not one of my kids ever spent so much as an hour in daycare.

They were, however, cared for on an as-needed basis by one or two stellar babysitters -- mothers, mature women with a God-given gift for nurturing children not their own. They didn't do it for money, even though I paid them very well. They did it because they loved the kids they watched.

Such was Tracy, a precious lady here in Knoxville who cared for Andrew for that year before he was old enough for K-4. She had a son Andrew's age and they became little buddies. Everything worked out beautifully. They are still friends and God is still good.

Tonight -- well, last night actually, because now it's a new day -- after the baccalaureate service for Andrew's class, Tracy's lovely eldest daughter came and flung her arms around my neck, her cute face lit with a smile and her warm brown eyes just glowing.

She and her new husband, who is graduating with Andrew and who jumps over lined-up buses on a motorcycle and whom she was anxious for me to meet, are going to England as missionaries.

It made me so happy to rejoice with Joy on her marriage, and to confirm once again that God is faithful.

And then there was Shirley. I had just gotten situated in my seat when TG touched my arm. "Look who's here to see you," he said.

I looked up into some of the kindest eyes I've ever known. I met Shirley twenty years ago when I worked at the law firm in the building I can see even now through the window, lit and limned by the impossibly bright and high moon.

Shirley didn't work at the law firm; she worked for a company that took care of the many potted palms and other exotic plants that adorned our sleek and modern office space.

So once a week I'd see Shirley trotting around the office with her watering can and whatnot, green thumb in high gear, invariably with a shy smile on her pretty face. Little bitty blonde thing, she is.

We got to talking one day and we discovered we were both professing Christians, and that was all she wrote and we've been girlfriends ever since.

One of the first things Shirley ever told me was that at her church, just about all they ever did anymore was sing. They'd been conservative but then the worldly music crept in and they added a bunch of instruments and organized several performing groups and next thing she and her husband knew, the services were all concerts and no conviction. They knew it wasn't good for them.

I told Shirley about our church, Temple Baptist Church, all those years ago, and I encouraged her to visit. I thought she and her husband would like the traditional hymn-based song service followed by the preaching of a Bible message, every single Sunday without fail, like the sun coming up in the east and setting in the west.

Shirley and her husband accepted my invitation and eventually they moved their membership, and they have been members ever since. Each time I am in town she comes to find me, and she hugs me at least twice, and she thanks me for telling her about the church she loves.

I am always awed by that, because I didn't want to be in the place I had to be every day, working in that law firm in downtown Knoxville, but if I hadn't been there, I would never have met Shirley.

In case you're wondering, I don't bill myself as a great or even a good Christian. What I relate about my church or any church, and the college where my children were fortunate enough to attend, and my personal experiences, is never meant as bragging.

I do not delude myself that I have everything there is to figure out, figured out. But I know some things I have figured out, and I'm as sure of them as I am of my own name, and I won't back down, as my late Pastor Kelley used to say, "until the clods hit my box."

What I am and all I'll ever be is a sinner saved by grace, grateful for that salvation, stumbling and falling as often as I walk, but always leaning on the Lord Whose death, burial, and resurrection made everything possible for me.

Into the mix on this momentous occasion I cannot help but be grateful for other conservative Christians -- and yes, Baptists, and not afraid or ashamed to call themselves that -- who as members of a local New Testament church have sacrificed to provide a Bible college that was for my children, more about influence than about academics.

My son will march into that auditorium tonight in his cap and gown, near the end of the line because he's a Dubya, and he'll have tears in his eyes I know because like me, he loves ceremony.

He told us tonight -- make that last night -- over a late but delicious dinner at Cracker Barrel, that he doesn't even know who the Torians of his class are.

I got it right away. "You mean Valedic and Saluta?" I asked.

Then we all roared with laughter. Yes, we are easily amused. And sure, I wish my son were giving a speech at graduation tonight. But he won't be. He passed his courses and he has been busy and believe me it was no mean feat. It is enough.

Now it's past three in the morning and the first birdies of the day are chirping outside the window. Tiredness is creeping up on me and you've been most attentive and no, it's not the altitude causing me to chase rabbits all over the moonlight-drenched East Tennessee landscape.

I'm just a mother, sleepless in Knoxville, reminiscing on the end of an era, wondering who's going to be my baby now.

SkyWatch Friday: Angel wing cloud

Is it not? Is it not an angel wing cloud?

I thought so.

~*~

A fire mist and a planet --
A crystal and a cell, --
A jellyfish and a saurian,
And caves where cave men dwell;
Then a sense of law and beauty,
And a face turned from the clod --
Some call it Evolution,
And others call it God.

A haze on the far horizon,
The infinite, tender sky,
The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields,
And the wild geese sailing high;
And all over upland and lowland
The charm of the goldenrod --
Some of us call it Autumn,
And others call it God.

Like tides on a crescent sea beach,
When the moon is new and thin,
Into our hearts high yearnings
Come welling and surging in --
Come from the mystic ocean,
Whose rim no foot has trod --
Some of us call it Longing,
And others call it God.

A picket frozen on duty,
A mother starved for her brood,
Socrates drinking the hemlock,
And Jesus on the rood;
And millions who, humble and nameless,
The straight, hard pathway plod --
Some call it Consecration,
And others call it God.

~William Herbert Carruth~

~*~

Happy Weekend!

Fly free and happy beyond birthdays and across forever

What follows is my personal birthday greeting to our daughter's husband.

Feel free to read it.

Dear Joel,

I'm not going to call you today, on your thirty-fourth birthday, because you'll get a hundred calls and I know you're busy and I don't want to add to your burden.

We have a gift for you, but I didn't mail it. We'll give it to you when we see you next week at Andrew's graduation.

But I do want to tell you something on your birthday: I appreciate and love you more than you'll ever know.

Now that you have children, you’re acutely aware of how much your heart aches for them to always do right and be happy. You want them to do right because you know that happiness is the fruit of obedience. You want them to be happy simply because you love them, and you know from experience that to be happy is much better than to be sad. Sadness will be thrust upon them anyway; happiness is something they'll have to choose for themselves.

Although we have not always seen eye-to-eye on every subject, there has never been a question in my mind that you are the right man for our beloved daughter. Sharing her life with you makes her happy. Stephanie loves you more than life itself; this I know. There was never anyone else for her but you, nor could there have been, and I do believe you would say the same about her. Since the day of your marriage in 2001 we have been overjoyed to name you as our son-in-law.

The Bible has a great deal to say about the good man, the just man, the upright man. And whenever I hear or read those verses, without fail and without exception I think of you and I think of my husband. You are the kind of man the Lord had in mind when He inspired the writers to put down those words in Scripture, and so is your father-in-law. There is more to life than making a lot of money and being a success in society. After all, what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

And trust me when I say, although my husband lets me do most of the talking (he knows I will anyway and I don't think he has either the strength or the inclination to fight it), he would echo my every sentiment with regard to you, right down to the last jot and final tittle.

We love you and we thank God for you every day of the world. That fact is inscribed on our hearts more indelibly than if it were engraved in stone. It cannot and will not change, no matter what. It is a truth of the universe, incontrovertible. Where we once had four children, we now have five.

Lest you ever doubt, please know that we truly see and notice your devotion to the work God has given you to do. We see you grieve for members of your flock when hard trials come, and we see your authentic joy for them in the good times. We have watched you brood and pray and study and work for the benefit of both the pastorate and your beautiful family.

The integrity and the boldness and the thoughtfulness and the decency and the sincerity with which you do every thing, both large and small, that is within your responsibility and area of expertise, has not escaped our notice.

You are a humble man but you're not a pushover. You are an intelligent man but you're never overbearing or dogmatic. You are an articulate man but you’re never glib. You are a tenderhearted man but you're not given to smarm or meaningless sentiment. You are a hard-working manly man but you're never crude or crass. You are an athlete who is always courteous and a gentleman. You are a patriotic citizen who honors the concepts of duty and personal accountability.

You are a genuine Christian who, clear-eyed and open-handed, goes daily about the business of ministering to a lost and floundering world. The burden is often heavy but you bear it with humility and aplomb. In every possible aspect of the overused (and sometimes ill-used) expression, you are a class act.

You're also very handsome. I like it that you're so handsome. I have a terrible weakness for handsome men. So sue me.

It is no secret that you sprang from a Christian home of quality and values, and it is there that you were carefully taught these things. Your parents are as dear to us as any other two people on earth. How I wish we could see them more. I never think of Dave and/or Debbie with anything but the utmost love, respect, and gratitude.

Your parents reared a fine son and we have benefitted greatly from their labor of love. Our daughter has benefitted, as have our grandchildren, and future generations will too. That's what it's all about. There is nothing else, really, that matters except passing on the blessed hope to our children and their children and their children, until the Lord's return.

But your stellar family notwithstanding, it is choices you have willingly made that resulted in the man you are today. From a young age, children decide which way they will go. The Bible tells us that even a child is known by his doings. It is sometimes appalling to see our children turn in a way we know will not bring about a good result for them. Your parents have never had to witness this in your life and I know they are humble and grateful before God in that knowledge.

Don't get the idea that I think you're a model of sinless perfection. You know I'm much too practical and plain-spoken to believe or say that. You know because you've likely heard me rant, I have no use whatsoever for the self-righteous "born saved" variety of Christian. That's bogus and I'll call it that even if it puts a crimp in the tail of every independent fundamental Baptist in Christendom.

The self-serving "I am Baptist royalty with all the rights and privileges thereto appertaining" attitude hurts people and undermines the cause of Christ. Just as deadly is the "I am the preacher's kid and therefore I get a pass but all you other schmucks are required to toe the line" way of thinking and behaving. You are one preacher's kid I've known (and there are others; a precious few) who I do not believe has ever thought of himself in that way. You never fell into that trap -- as far as I can tell -- and I am so glad. So very glad. I thank you for it.

Because we know that we're not to call ourselves good or think of ourselves as good. In my flesh dwells no good thing! But in my soul and yours there dwells the Holy Spirit because we invited Him in, and He will never leave us. And ever since I first met you in -- was it 1996 or '7? -- whatever year it was, I have seen and known you to be what I lovingly and gratefully refer to as "the real deal."

It doesn't get any better than that on this side of eternity.

I know you're human; I know you make mistakes. That's not the point; God's forgiveness is always available. It's your intent, your dedication, your commitment to service that I see and I celebrate. So many people give up before the battle even begins, unwilling to fight for anything besides their own selfish desires. Despite your (few) faults you're a brave warrior for right, and I rejoice in that today and every day.

While many young men were partying down throughout their college years, chasing loose girls, drunken, becoming indecent and debauched, you were living cleanly and studying the Word of God in Bible college. You worked so hard that you secured both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in four years, and were salutatorian of your class into the bargain.

I'm painfully aware that the world doesn't value the route you took and that many would openly despise and belittle you for it. It is because the world does not value it, that I value it all the more. I appreciate your purity on the day you married our pure daughter.

So as you turn thirty-four I publicly wish you the happiest of birthdays and I remind you once again that you are a cherished and much-loved member of the Weber family. You're stuck with us! Sorry. If it will make you feel any better, go ahead and tell a mother-in-law joke. Live a little; make it two. I can handle it. I think.

And I'm posting this on my blog on your birthday because I am so very grateful for your life and testimony, and I want others to know it. I want anyone who reads my letter to you, to know that in the midst of this calumny-pocked, evil-seeking, lust-driven, God-hating, leeringly lascivious secular humanistic day in which we live, when cursing is as common as prayer used to be -- even, to an alarming degree, among people who call themselves "good" and who answer to the name "Christian" -- not every young, intelligent, handsome, bright, sharp, talented, educated man is pursuing the almighty dollar with one hand and feeding his sinful flesh with the other.

Some people still cling to the old rugged cross, so despised by the world, and spend their days pointing others to it. They do it because they’ve wholeheartedly, willingly, bought into what truly matters. They’re cued up and ready to roll tape.

With neither self-pity nor apology, they sacrifice for a cause greater than themselves. They shine light into darkness; they fling precious life-affirming truth daily into the mocking face of the great lie, the culture of death. They do it with grace and goodness, with humility and hope, with poise and presence, without braggadocio, without ulterior motives, and with very little praise or recognition.

They simply do right because they know that right is its own reward.

You are one of these and I see it. I see it and I am grateful. I see it and I rejoice. Thank you. I love you.

Happy Birthday!

Mrs. Weber

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But the path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.

~Proverbs 4:18~

~*~

Fly free and happy beyond birthdays and across forever, and we'll meet now and then when we wish, in the midst of the one celebration that never can end.

~Richard Bach~