Writing World Update

Little Update..

Occasionally I get asked if The River Hideaway is still available & the answer is Yes. It is contracted for another two years but that may or may not be the case. The owner of the Publishing Company has been very sick & plans to be back but many things are on hold right now.

I was looking for a different publisher before this news for works that I have already completed. Many of you realize that getting traditionally published is about a 99% rejection rate. Having no name recognition makes the journey very difficult. No complaints.. That is just how it is. Knowing someone helps in any job related search. I was able to get a novel in front of a publisher that only allowed it because of a dear contact. They liked it but their finances at this time concerned them. It is a tough world for Publishers as well as authors. I appreciated their honesty.

Of course, so many people suggest self publishing & that is a good format for some people & their works, however, I would encourage any writer to research any publisher very carefully as there are a lot of shady book publishers. Some say they are traditional & the next thing you know they want $$$ from you. Be careful..Some of the self-publishing companies lure you in & the next thing you know they are charging you thousands.I certainly did not sign any great contract for The River Hideaway but I also did not fork over any of my hard-earned money to see my book in print.

I will not consider self-publishing & I mean no offense to those that have. It is just not for me.
At the end of the day this is all in God's Hands & believe it or not I am getting much better at really letting go of my desires & trusting Him.


My answer for what is a Christian & by no means do I think this is the right view for everyone. It is just my answer for my walk. I knew that to really call myself a Christian I had to seek what God wanted more than what I desired. It was not there for the majority of my life-even after a Damascus Road experience almost 40 years ago to the day. Today, though I fail at times-for the most part I am there.

Do you ever shock yourself with something you say? One day I was frustrated over book sales & I exclaimed to no one..as I was alone.."Rather a thousand copies with You than a million without You." I realized I meant that & for most of my life & this writing adventure I would have chosen the million with the attitude that I would catch up with God on the flip side. Isn't it easy to do that in so many areas of our life? Relationships, living a lifestyle we know God did not call us too. The list goes on.

So this is an update for those that ask if The River Hideaway is still available. I do have a few copies of The River Hideaway at home if you want a signed copy. I can mail them or if you are local I can find a way to get a copy to you. Also for those of you that enjoyed The River Hideaway & want more. God bless you. The kind words from many of you are treasured. The River Hideaway touched people. Made people told me that they reflected about their faith-if they were still harboring any prejudices..Their words-not mine. To tell a story that touched people-made them think about their relationship with God.. That is the good stuff & I am deeply humbled.

One exciting thing did happen in my writing world this year. I had an article published in Optimist International Magazine about my Coach & the man who rescued from the scrap heap of this life many years ago. It is in the Summer Issue 2016.

Thank you & God bless each & every one of you.
PS For digital readers The River Hideaway is available on Kindle & Nook..
https://www.amazon.com/River-Hideaway-Billy-B…/…/ref=sr_1_1…

Once again this beautiful photo was taken by my friend, Robbie Johnson.

JOURNEY (Pre Blog Time)

 I wrote this before blogging-before I turned the wheel over-before I would attend Passion 2012 (I did not even know about the event at the time) Before I knew who Julie was.

I have no idea why I wrote this other than God knew real change was coming for me & he wanted me to see where I had been before he took me to the next step.

December 18, 2011

It was nearing the end of summer in 1975 as I walked that night in my neighborhood. I was nineteen, troubled, and the walk much like my life had no particular destination. A girlfriend that I treated badly walked away and decided to fill her own emptiness with someone else. It was not until she was out the door that I realized that I actually loved her, though that was the last thing in my life I desired.

It was strange that I would be out on a night as this and not be high on some substance, but for whatever reasons I was not.  

I don’t recall a thought as I walked the street I lived on and turned left on to the next road. What I do recall is that I walked gazing at the sky for much of the walk. I can point to the place I was at today all these years later when what I can only describe as a whoosh that began in the top of my head and permeated throughout my entire body. I hear a whisper with unmistakable clarity. “Come and admit that you are wrong. Come and sing my glorious song.” One lone tear dribbled down my left cheek.  

A few steps later I gazed up again to the dark sky and asked, “Is that You God?” I did not need an answer because I already knew.  Over thirty five years later I still don’t know why this happened to me. My family referred to it as my Damascus Road and indeed it was.

It would be pleasant if this story was a happy one and that I turned from my life immediately and walked a different path with happiness and harmony. I did turn from my life of promiscuity, drugs, parties that saw the sun rise on a regular basis. My life began with that supernatural moment and I thought that there would be so much more to come but I had to learn to live in the natural, and by faith which proved an obstacle I could not overcome.

I made a rash of hurried decisions and the worse was a marriage born of a small church group that had all the answers and from my loneliness. Remember the girl that found solace in another? Well I blocked all that away. I married someone while still in love with another. It was a not so great start for a lifetime of happiness.

I spent ten years unhappily married-never letting go of my Damascus Road completely but at the same time when your home is misery for both of you how can you walk a fruitful path? I could not.

At age 32 I was single, alone, and seemingly never able to escape the fight over our child, property, and money. I longed for fairness in an unfair world and when it became apparent that I was not going to get it I lashed out at God and my festering anger toward him grew exponentially for the next twenty years. Often my prayers turned to cursing at a God powerful enough to whisper to me on a dark road and change my life but who was miles away when I needed him most.

I had several failed relationships after divorce. I sought love and intimacy and found it, however fleeting it proved to be. I was flawed, vulnerable and I found the same in partners. Some of the experiences were enthralling but the downside grew too steep.

Depression loomed but I could always flip the switch and walk out of any dark places but then twice the darkness became so severe that I reconciled myself to the awareness that I was not Superman after all. One night as I drove around listening to Bruce Springsteen and drinking heavily I drove into the garage and left the music playing and the car running. I was playing a game. It won’t really be suicide if I just fall asleep drunk never to wake again. I don’t know if I fell asleep or not but at some point my beautiful son’s face appeared and what I could not do for myself I had to do for him. I cut the car off and walked inside, wondering if I could outlast this particular debilitating bout of darkness.

During this time I went to a Saturday night church service with my son Micah. The minister was talking about what is holding you back? What is keeping you from turning your life completely over to God? Micah has a recall for details of his childhood that are incisive. He turned to me and asked softly but with conviction not expected from a young teen ager. “What’s keeping you Dad?” He has no recollection of this event. It was God speaking through him but still I had my plans, my dreams, and my desires. Let me achieve those first and then maybe I will get around to God.

It was a Saturday night, March 2007 and I was talking to my mom on the phone.  During the course of our chat she mentioned that Jim Glasgow was back at Myrtle Grove. I was a member at Myrtle Grove but I had not been to a service in many years. I was not attending church anywhere.  I attended a few but none felt right. I had always liked Jim. He is a humble man with a heart for the broken. Something clicked when Mom said that and I decided I am going to Myrtle Grove in the morning. I knew that once while it thrived under the leadership of my dear friend Horace Hilton it had fallen on harder times. It was no longer the church that people lined up at to get in the door.

I did not know that it would become a church home for me. That it would feel right. I went sporadically for the first three years. My anger at God for circumstances that he refused to change would surface and I would in my mind defy him and refuse to attend for several weeks. Still I kept returning.

There was no life changing voice this time but as I reflect back now I see a few events that did not seem big at the time but have had a profound effect on my life. I witnessed them not realizing that they would stick with me as major teachings in my life.

The first I can recall was sitting alone at the end of the pew-as usual refusing to reach out to anyone. I had to keep a distance and protect myself from any religious people.  It was before church began and I without thought picked up the Bible in front of me. I opened it to Galatians 5:7. You were running a good race. Who cut in on you and kept you from obeying the truth?

The second event was when a man brought his potter’s wheel to church and began to mold as a woman spoke. I don’t recall if the man ever spoke and I can’t recall any word spoken during that service. Something however gnawed at me. What I sensed was God saying, “You have tried to mold me into what you think I should be. I am the potter you are the clay and it is not the other way around.”

I don’t recall thinking to much that day about the service but it has been a few years now and that is still my lesson. I think it always will be. I see it not only applying to my life but often in our church of today. I resist religious behavior. The tightly held religious person with their ordinances often seem hard and cold to me. It is about our heart isn’t it? The best examples that I lean on were Horace, and today

David Foster and Steve Wallin. They are men who live the gospel in their hearts not with pointed finger but rather a hand up.

Still, as our world has become extremely liberal haven’t we assumed God has moved with us? I know I have. But I return to the reminder of the potter and the clay. I need to not only understand but accept that I am the clay.

Jim shared a message and the part I remember was about small groups and the need to belong to one. I had attended one and it never felt right to me. Nothing against the people involved. It was just not the right fit for me. I felt pressure when I began to break away from the group. I don’t react well with pressure.

I talked to Jim about this and asked, “Do you really think every member should be in a small group?” He thought for a few seconds and replied, “I think you need to be known.” Now that was big for me because I am introverted and I came each Sunday but I sat in my corner alone and while cordial I refused to reach out to anyone. God has slowly changed that in me.

Steve Mattis also returned to Myrtle Grove where he assumed the role as senior pastor. The recurring theme in all messages by Steve is we can’t make it by being good. We can’t make it with our religious behavior and rituals. It is only with grace that we have hope.

One example that Steve used one Sunday with Jerry Cannon also resonated with me and does to this day. It also tied into what Jim shared about being known or in my case I believe God speaking softly for me to get out of my corner. Steve quoted a scripture about how we are to exalt or encourage one another. He said something about Jerry that was very true and then asked how he felt. Jerry replied awesome. It got a little emotional for both of them because it was heartfelt.

What I took away from that was certainly not to false flatter someone but how hard this life can be at times. You never know what one kind true word can mean to someone unless you speak it. It was an easy way for me to slowly get out of my corner that I am so darn comfortable in. I have certainly been on the other end of it when I felt like I was at that last strand of rope and someone offered kindness and hope. I remember during the darkest times of depression my mom saying, “Billy, you have to have hope. Without hope you have nothing.”  

I am self centered-stuck in what I do not have. My failed dreams, emptiness, but from that one little message there have been many times since then when I have prayed, “Lord if I can offer someone some encouragement today who is struggling led me to that opportunity.”

Horace once told me that each Sunday on each pew there was someone with a broken heart. Often it was me.

Steve shared a poignant message several months ago about how we should literally die to ourselves. That sounds so harsh. I can only tell you what it means to me. The more of my heart that I allow to die the more room there is for Jesus to come and replace my self centered desires. And if Jesus fills my heart more with his spirit and his love then I won’t need ordinances to tell me what to do. I will do it because of who has taken up residence in my heart.

I spent so much time in darkness that I could not even imagine being happy in Heaven. I often would ask God to take me now and I will opt out of any afterlife. “You can have it God,” as if I had anything to bargain with. Steve spoke of Heaven recently and how being in the presence of God we will be so full we will overflow. He used the example of a cup is not overflowing until too much water is added. It must go beyond full.

But I am not to wait for that but to long for that while I am here. Again it goes back to my heart. How much is me? How much will I let go of to have it replaced with something better.

It is a journey, and one in which I struggle mightily. Listening to Michael Mattis in his message December 18 caused me to explore my nights. That is the time when it can rain down on me the most with negativity. The times I feel so alone and it is as if all that I face comes together as one mighty weight to crush me. The dreams unrealized, the mom such a spiritual force and suffering now with dementia, and the one person I want brought into the fullness of God more than me but as the spirit calls holds on to that last entrapment.

Often these nights are so bad that it influences darkly the next day. This brings times when faith is so very difficult for me to find. What did the man say to Jesus when asked if he believed? Yes Lord I believe. Help me my unbelief. Mark 9:24. I love the raw honesty that I find in that scripture.

A few weeks ago I was looking for a scripture to post on my Facebook status. Something inspiring but fresher than one I would typically turn too. I found Jeremiah 32:27 “Behold, I am the LORD, the God of all flesh; is anything too difficult for me?”

I believe that was a scripture to take root and prepare me for hearing about the night. Last night as I prayed and as the obstacles came to me one at a time I named each one and said, Lord you are bigger than my loneliness. You are bigger than mom’s dementia. I continued to name each one and I followed it with Lord you are bigger than ….

One thing in my favor as I walk down this road is I returned to Myrtle Grove over four years ago with an honest heart. I resist when people judge me because I am my worse critic. I know the good, the bad, and the ugly. I will not give in to church speak, tradition, clichés, religion, or rituals. I won’t say I believe it if I don’t. That does not make me right, and I could well be wrong. But God will have to show me and I am more than willing to be wrong.

There is no Damascus Road this time and the process slow but the foundation more sturdy and I have more hope in finding the path God calls to me. As I search for the next step what I feel is in a world of outwardly trappings that God wants to make me beautiful from the inside out.

A few years ago Jim suggested a book for me to read. What’s So Amazing about Grace by Phillip Yancey. It seems to be appropriate to end this letter of journey with a quote from that book.

"As a child, I put on my best behavior on Sunday mornings, dressing up for God and for the Christians around me. It never occurred to me that church was a place to be honest. Now, though, as I seek to look at the world through the lens of grace, I realize that imperfection is the prerequisite for grace. Light only gets in through the cracks.”

May we all leave our religious clothes at home and come each Sunday with an honest and open heart. Luke 12:34 "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Fishhook, Teke & Was it a Miracle from God?

Teke, our Australian Cattle Dog, turned five months old yesterday. We have had her since she was two days shy of eight weeks. It has been an eventful three months to say the least. It had been decades since my wife Julie & I had dealt with having a puppy. I forgot the joys of it. ;)

We have been over protective & I have been a chronic worrier over her safety. It has been just shy of two years ago that we lost Sydney-Julie's rescue Chihuahua mix that I fell deeply in love with when he came to live with me. It was a two way street. I can't seem to escape the worry that came from Sydny dying hours after surgery to remove a pit that lodged in his intestine.

There was the day that I was walking Teke in our neighborhood on her leash when a large dog-maybe 100 pounds charged Teke with intent to maim. I had no time to think-only to react & spin her away from his charge into my arms. Fortunately the negligent owners of the aggressive dog got there in time to prevent a second charge. I had bad images for a long time over what could have been. The part that got to me the most & that I choked up about when I told Julie later that night was when I was still holding Teke long after the incident & discovered my shirt was wet with my then 14 pound puppy's urine.

The fish hook incident I will leave for you to decide. Miracle, luck that either can or can't be explained. I am all ears. For the record, I don't go around claiming everything is a miracle or the devil is hiding behind every bush.

It was several weeks ago & Julie had taken Teke to Carolina Beach State Park & allowed her off lead near the river. No big deal I had done the same thing the week before. Teke found a dead fish in the marsh & you know how a little puppy will eat about anything. She ate a big chunk of the fish before Julie could catch her. Julie came home & washed Teke & herself to remove the rancid smell. Julie called the Vet & they said to keep an eye on her & if she started to vomiting or got diarrhea to bring her in.

Fast forward about 14 hours later to the next morning at sunrise. We wake up to the sound of Teke throwing up. Julie reaches her first & ask me to take her outside to see if she has finished. She had. Julie cleaned the kennel.

As Teke & I reentered the house I hear Julie sobbing loudly in the bedroom. I rush to her & this was the following conversation.

Me: What is wrong?
Julie: She swallowed a fish hook.
Me: What? I am pretty sure there was a head shake of disbelief at one point. Is it all there?
Julie is holding a pillow from the kennel & presses it toward me. Yes. Look.

Was it my prayer over Teke the previous afternoon that she would not be sick or injured from the fish? Could it be traced back to the day we picked her up at Sleepy Hollow Cattle Dogs where my son, Micah drove to meet us? Before we left the farm & Micah was to return to Raleigh & Julie & I to Carolina Beach-I retrieved the bottle of anointing oil I had placed in the side door of my truck & prayed over her protection. I even reminded God that the last time I did this over a dog that it was Sydny & he died. Why one prayer granted & the other not I have no clue. That is why He is God & I am not. His ways far higher than mine- even if I don't always care for the result. And I don't always care for the result. 

Julie called the Vet with the update. They asked the same question many of you have. She swallowed the entire fish hook & it all came back up in tact? Yes & yes. They even called twice the next week to check on Teke. I think they had a hard time understanding.

Later as we had time to process & this is the part that makes me believe it was a miracle from God & not ridiculous luck. I ask Julie who has a good medical background. "Did you check her tongue, gums, cheeks, throat-basically everything you can see?"

She had as I knew she would & what she found was not one scratch. Not one drop of blood. That is so much like God because when He does something He does it completely. Perfectly. I probably would have still believed it was a miracle-if say she got a nasty cut on her tongue in the process but for there not to be one mark. Not a moment after throwing that entire fish  hook back up that had been inside of her for approximately 14 hours did she show the first sign of anything other than complete wholeness.

You take from this what you will. I know what I believe & in case you have to ask she is not allowed off lead near the river any longer.

Coach

  This is an article I wrote about "That One Person" that is featured in the Summer Issue of Optimist International Magazine.         http://www.optimist.org/magazine/Summer2016/TheOptimist-Summer2016.pdf  

            Ed Wilson was a baseball legend. He coached Little League Baseball for over twenty five years. His team, Hanover Center, won over fifteen league championships, ten county championships, and at one time enjoyed a winning streak of fifty games which set a world record for the most consecutive victories by a baseball team at any level. He also guided two All-Star teams to North Carolina State titles.

He was my coach for three years of my youth and a few years later as a young man I was an assistant coach on his staff. Coach’s teams set records that will never be approached and yet that pales in comparison to why this man was so loved by so many of his ‘boys.’ He impacted lives and none more so than mine.

A perplexed rival coach once said to him. “I don’t understand why your teams are better than mine. I have players just as good as yours and I know as much about coaching baseball as you do.”

Coach’s response summed up a lot about his philosophy as a coach. “That’s because you are coaching baseball and I am coaching boys.” 

The morning after receiving the news that Coach passed away at the age of ninety eight, I found myself outside the gate to the Little League field. My thoughts drifted to a time when I stood in the same exact spot when he would alter the course of my life forever.

It was an early spring day forty years previous. I was nineteen. That morning I noticed in the local newspaper the Little League tryouts information. Each team was listed with the boys that were to report to the team that selected them. I filed away in my mind the four p.m. time that the boys were to report to Coach and went about my day.

Sometime after four I stood outside the gate to the baseball diamond. I had no plan. I had told no one I was going but I was there none the less.

Coach was businesslike as ever as he conducted practice. Still, he walked over a couple of times to inquire about how I was doing. I was not in school or employed and far worse I had no positive direction in my life. I had gotten myself into trouble the year before and he knew about this because he came to visit me when he heard the news.

It was nearing six p.m. and tryouts were about to conclude. He walked over one last time.

“You need any help, Coach?”  I asked sheepishly.   

Coach had a gruff, no nonsense demeanor. He looked at me and said, “You want to help me? Be at the school tomorrow at four.” He turned abruptly and walked away.

I was at the school the next day before four o’clock as I knew he would be. He already had a full coaching staff. I have come to realize that he did not need my help as much as he knew that I might be in need of his.

In time, I would look back to that one moment as being the crossroad of my life.   I discovered a love for the kids and for coaching. I began to realize the chance he had taken on me and I did not want to disappoint him.

I spent the next four spring and summers coaching with him before taking my own path. I taught basketball to the same age boys for the next twenty years. The lessons I learned from my mentor were with me always. They remain so because Coach taught all of us a lot more than baseball. He taught us life.

His son, Bob, asked me to speak at Coach’s funeral. It was one of the greatest honors of my life. I shared that day as I have many times that for some of us there is that one person who God places in our life that makes all the difference. Ed Wilson was that man for me. I shudder to think where I might be if not for a chance a ball coach took on a lost young man on a late spring afternoon.

Winter Park Optimist was formed in 1954 at Hugh MacRae Park, located in Wilmington, North Carolina. Coach and his brother Glenn ‘Doc’ Wilson, who also was a successful Little League baseball coach, were instrumental in the early days and for years to come in the shaping and guiding of Winter Park Optimist Little League.  There are two press boxes that were named in their honor many years ago. On April 6, 2013 there was a day held in their honor on the very field they coached on long ago. 

Winter Park Optimist is still going strong to this day over sixty years later. The baseball fields are still located in Hugh MacRae Park but there are now four baseball fields, which is twice the number when I was with Coach. They also have three fields nearby at John T Hoggard High School for girls fast pitch softball.   

Written by Billy Beasley. Author of The River Hideaway. You can contact him at billybeasleyauthor@gmail.com or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/AuthorBillyBeasley/

The Choice of Baptism Now

My first act of rebellion was to leave the Baptist Church my family attended, at age twelve & run down the street to join the Methodist Church. They had the younger, cooler minister, Al Morris. I was sprinkled in the church & what I recall most all these years later is my body was shaking uncontrollably during the baptism. It was not fear. My thoughts now are God knew that very soon I would depart down about every bad road a young boy/man could venture. It was as if He were shaking me with His presence & at the same time telling me that my hand is upon you & you will return to me.


At age nineteen as I walked down a lonely dark road one night-A life wrought with heartache. A life where the parties began early & often only ended early the next morning as I would crawl into bed as the sunrise came.  No drug untouched. No opportunity for searching for fun in all the wrong places. I am not going to tell you I did not have a good time. There is pleasure in sin for a season but I was always a searcher & at times the life grew weary & I knew there had to be more.

That night, God showed up. He spoke & it all changed. It was such a life transformation that it would have been better for society & me if I could have been sent away to some secluded quiet place for two years while maybe I could learn to live with the truth of the Gospel.

As it is I made many bad choices. One in particular that years later would result in divorce when my son was two years old. The battles in court. The pain of not having your child with you each night. The long drive home after dropping him off at his Mom's. As time passed I became angry with this God who had such power that He showed up one night on a dark road but would not grant fairness in my life.

I went back to the party life. Never to the degree that I lived in my youth. But soon life became about clubbing, searching for that certain woman. This life grew old as well & I began to stay home alone with my anger at God.

Later in my life I was in my mid fifties & I began to attend church but I still held on to what I wanted more than what God wanted. Being a Christian can be a pretty generic term. I always sensed that for me- to really be a Christian was when I cared more about what God wanted for my life than what I wanted. Through it all, even the Born Again Damascus Road experience I never really did that.

It was January of 2012. I was driving down the road when I said, "God, I have made a mess of everything I have touched. You take the wheel. I will place what you want in my life above my own desires, even if it is not what I want. Where You say go. I will go. " That was my moment that led to yesterday. To be baptized with more  understanding. More understanding that I can't live a mixture of law & grace as was often preached in my earlier days. It is His grace. Period.

It has been on my heart to be baptized since last year about this time. I wanted to be baptized in my sanctuary-the ocean. Lifepoint has an annual baptism each summer in August. I was recovering from ankle surgery & could not participate last summer.

One day this spring, I met with Jack Teachey at Lifepoint about serving. I mentioned about my desire to be baptized. He responded with, "If this is on your heart you don't need to wait till August. I will meet you wherever you want me too." He completely got me about wanting it to take place on the beach.

Wow! I did not even know that was an option. So yesterday, my wife, Julie, Kim Williamson, my small group leader, Randy Dallos, who I began serving with at the First Time Guests booth, & Jack met at my adopted family's home on Carolina Beach.


Some highlights.

I was able to be baptized right where Julie & I were married a little over three years ago.


It was raining pretty hard mid afternoon & I heard thunder in the distance. But when our time to meet at the beach came it was beautiful. The sun came out. Beautiful cloud formations & God decided to favor His child with a rainbow. As someone commented on Facebook last night that they didn't know that was my rainbow they saw. Yes, it was.

One last thing that I did not think about until I was home. I noticed no one on the beach but us. It was our private time. Anyone that spends time on the beach knows late in the day there are walkers, joggers, people taking their dogs for a stroll. I saw none of that.

This was a step that I felt God, for whatever reasons, wanted me to take before He takes us to the next step.

I can hardly wait. 

Lesson About Images

Even after that moment when as I drove down the road & said, "God, I  have messed up everything I have touched. You take the wheel. I will go where you say go even if it is not what I desire." I continued to not give much thought to the Movies I watched. Now, I am not talking about Pornography but I would watch a movie that I hoped would have a good story & I overlooked certain scenes as part of the movie. Please before I go any further don't mistake this for any judgments or me parading as a choir boy. Those that know me know that is far from true.

Much of my movie collection has left the premises since Julie became my wife just over three years ago. My son, Micah & I teased her about how we could have no more fun movies. Yes,  I would rather watch movies & not hear cursing & I never wanted to watch stuff with abuse in it. And I hate gore. I know it is fake but can't we just shoot the bad guy & not show me his insides?

Julie would warn me that you are taking that stuff in whether you believe it or not. I dismissed her.I still thought well if it is a DVD I can just skip through the bad part but sometimes you are not quick enough.

I grew up during the times of Westerns be it the many movies made or the television shows. I absolutely love Westerns & I get excited now when the rare new one comes out. My favorite movie, not just favorite Western is Tombstone.  Val Kilmer in his greatest role ever. Kurt Russell playing Wyatt Earp. I have probably viewed it twenty times over the years.

So I saw the previews to The Hateful Eight and Kurt Russell stars in it & while I knew it was rated R I didn't do my research. I ignored what I did read because it was a Western! Did I mention I love Westerns?  One day with no thought I stopped at the Redbox around the corner & rented it.

Over one hour into it & enduring the multiple cursing.GD said so many times & yet that was tame for what was to come. There is a scene so horrific, brutal, disgusting, obscene, that it has taken some serious prayer to remove those images from this house-from our minds. I don't know if I froze with the remote or that I thought surely they would not show what I feared was coming.

The sad thing is I can't even say it was a good Western minus the horrible part. It was lame at best. Quentin Tarantino's attempts at humor fell woefully short.

I could have done more research. I could have read what this Christian wrote. http://christiananswers.net/spotlight/movies/2015/hatefuleight2015.html

One thing I did come away with is Quentin Tarantino is in dire need of prayer as are the people that participated in this movie. Something is horribly lacking in Quentin's life & I think I know what it is.

It must be difficult to be an actor in Hollywood & be a believer. Can you do non-Christian movies? Sure, & since I watch non-Christian movies I would be a hypocrite to say other wise. But I would never choose to be part of a movie like this.

Many people have told me that The River Hideaway would make a good moive. Sure that would be exciting but suppose they turned it into graphic scenes, brutality- that is not part of the book? I don't want that & I don't care about the money involved. I do not want to gain the entire or part of the world & lose my soul in the process.

Don't make the mistake I did. Don't rent The Hateful Eight.  Don't bring that garbage in your home. A  home that I am suppose to be the leader in. I fell woefully short.

Trust me you are not missing anything.  I guess some of you will say it is only a film. I understand. I would have said that too but not any more.

It won't happen again. Julie was right. I should have listened.

March Madness

This is definitely a different type blog for me to write. Sports fan or not most of us are aware of March Madness. I am going to probably lose many of you with the following admission. I am a Duke Basketball fan & have been so since I was seven years old. There is one thing only those that know me best realize & that is that I value fairness/honesty above being a fan.

If you hate a player who plays for your rival would you love that same player if he wore the jersey of your team? Can you answer that honestly? That call you thought went against your team that you are certain was a charge. Would it still be that if your team got the call? Do you take partial accounts of stories & run with them if they support your dislike of another team?

I accept that the word fan is short for fanatic & we can all be that at times. Even though I will not go on social media & taunt when my team wins or whine when they lose doesn't mean I don't behave like a fool at times. Ask my wife. Wait... maybe don't do that.

I was involved in sports for much of my life. Playing as a kid & as a young man, though certainly not on any level near March Madness. The most meaningful thing I did was coach young boys in the sport of basketball for twenty years. No one wanted to win more than I did. I actually believe sports competition for kids is a good thing but that is not a story for today.

As a coach I failed miserably at times, both as a winner & loser. I tried not to rub victory in the other team's face because if you are a part of sports you know what it is like to lose & losing hurts. Still, there are times when we won championship nail biter games that I wish I would have been more calm. Celebrated less. One incident in particular, comes to mind. We had an injury bug the week of the tournament & somehow still won by two points. I forgot this for many years until someone reminded me I sank to the floor & screamed, "Yes," repeatedly. Many years later I saw it on video. I was embarrassed. I still am. I know it was the sheer relief of the week but there was a coach, who I thought a lot of who was waiting to shake my hand. I don't think he thought badly of me. We were rivals but respectful rivals. Not the I hate you because your jersey is a different kind of color.

Today, I would never do that. I will not argue sports or much of anything else. Duke won it all last year & I was thrilled but I never rubbed it in the face of my friends who love a different shade of blue. I wonder sometimes if we don't hate our rival more than we love our team. I have had to think about that one for sure.

Grayson Allen, who plays for Duke, did a bonehead thing & tripped two opponents in games earlier this year. Now he is a villain. People are just looking for the next thing he does & when you look for things with such zeal you will find them whether they are true or not. It reminds me of people who look for the devil behind every bush.

These incidents will follow him thanks to our age of social media, which is both a blessing & a curse. I did similar things in games on a far less stage. Thankfully, there are no videos of it looping on social media.

So today, I can say I would not do those things but here is a big difference. I am almost sixty. Grayson Allen is twenty years old. How many stupid things did you & I do at age twenty? We need to think about those things before we become so judgmental. I make no excuses for his behavior. He was wrong. I just am not comfortable labeling him a bad person now for the rest of his life because of poor decisions that came out during competition. Those that never cared about sports you may not get this but those of you that have participated I think that you will, because I doubt any of you have always behaved in an exemplary fashion, especially when we care so much about winning and losing.

Sure you can say I would have a different opinion if he played for another team. But what you wouldn't know is when P.J. Hairston, who played for the other shade of blue,  kept making bad decisions in life I took no comfort in that. I prayed for him. He is a young man who has made mistakes but that doesn't mean he always will.

Making a bad choice does not make someone a bad person. If that were true there would be no hope for any of us.

Fortunately, God does not keep playing a loop of our mistakes. His grace is far better than that. Maybe some will share negative comments about this because of their allegiance to a sports team. So be it. There are people who seem to live for that sort of thing. I read a nice article online this week about a young player & the comments turned ugly quickly. People going back & forth calling each other names in the comments section. That is not a life for me.

I surely do not want to be judged for the times I acted or reacted poorly during a sports contest. We that believe in God have pretty much all heard in one message or another on Sunday, that we are not our mistakes.

Couldn't we apply that same grace to athletes? Coaches? Each other?