Of course, secular textbooks and historians who admit the glaring truth that the Ten Commandments, as listed in Exodus 20, played a huge role in the development of western culture and in United States history, are abundant. In fact their principles and even their author, God, are mentioned in several of the other documents included on this wall in this high school. Therefore, I think the battle that the ACLU is waging, here and in other places against the Ten Commandments, is less about content and more about authorship. It just incenses this organization for our culture to give credence to the Good Book as having emanated from the mind of God. Giving that credence, you see, infers that He exists and that we have His Word. And–oh dear–if we go down that path, then there are all sorts of obstacles to get over to legitimize immoral behavior. Absolute truth is a big stickler for adherence and this Absolute Truth inconveniently gets in the way of homosexuality, abortion, pornography, infanticide, euthanasia, etc….So the ACLU finds itself situated uncomfortably between the truth that this document is foundational to the culture we enjoy and their expressed need to rid our public buildings of references to it’s author.

So Judge Urbanski has ordered the case to mediation, suggesting a compromise. Judge Urbanski has asked the ACLU if the ten commandments can remain on the school’s wall if they become the six commandments instead of the ten? What if the first four–the ones that mention God–are excluded? Did you get that? Let’s just clip the document in half to get rid of any mention of authorship!

Seeing how this case is resolved will be interesting. Judge Urbanski got an initial response from the ACLU. They said this edit might resolve the dispute, but still, the other six installments should not be worded, so as to infer that they are commandments. In other words, no “Thou shalt not” should be posted. Again, it’s this obstacle of absolute truth.

I’m wondering about precedence if we start chopping God out of the Ten Commandments. (It’s difficult for me to even type those absurd words.) Are we going to chop Him out of the Declaration of Independence? Will we amend the Magna Carta and the Mayflower Compact? Will we really mess with history to get around absolute truth? The problem is, the truth we chop away will still be truth. If we cut around the name of God with our measly scissors till kingdom come, the eternal kingdom will still come! If we take down plaques and edit Him out from now till the trumpet blows, it will still blow one day. Even if we take our chisels and remove His name from every marble statue in DC and from every cornerstone of every government building, His name is still the one at which every knee will one day bow. Even the knees of the officers of the ACLU… all knees under all tables on both sides of that courtroom… are getting ready to bow. Even the knees under the robe under the bench at the head of that and all courtrooms will bow.

Absolute truth is not decided in a courtroom. It’s not edited with scissors and chisels.

You can hear an audio about this case at www.libertyaction.org/7082/offer.asp.

The heart of my father trusted my mother, that she would do him good and not evil. I do not remember ever having the first inkling of an idea that my dad ever thought Mother was lying to him, that she might be having an affair or that she was tricking him into getting things her way. In fact, the whole idea of any of those things seems preposterous. My mother never asked me to lie to my father. In fact, she would have spanked me in the “spanking place” if she thought I had lied to him. Not only did he never doubt her honesty, but he trusted her judgment. He trusted my mother to clothe us, to buy Christmas gifts for all of us and the extended family, to buy the groceries and to stock the freezer. He did not have to be a micro-manager. He trusted her.

My mother sought wool and flax and worked willingly with her hands. Her candle did not go out by night. If I close my eyes, I can see her hands. They had a couple of little age spots on them. Her fingers were long and thin and she never had a manicure. They were hard working hands. She had a sign in the little bedroom that doubled as her sewing room that said, “Whoever dies with the most fabric wins.” She won. See, she really did seek wool and flax and polyester and cotton and rayon. She could make anything on that Singer and so she did. I remember coming home from school one day for several weeks in November to a lot of white fur all over the carpets and bedspreads. I wondered if she was having bunnies over to play every day while I was at school. That year on Christmas morning, there were three precious little white fake fur coats for my sisters and me.

I remember many summer mornings when I would awaken to find that she was already out in the hot sun. I would look out the back kitchen door and down the hill I would see her bent over in the butter pea patch. I would try and be quiet, because I knew if she saw me, I would either be picking with her or washing breakfast dishes in the kitchen. If I was ever bored, I did not say so. I knew better. No one in that house ate the bread of idleness.

We did eat well, though. My mother gave meat to her household and a portion to her maidens. I cannot remember ever going hungry. My mother knew what day the meat would be in the marked-down bin at the market and she was willing to get up very early to be there. We did not go out to eat often because that was expensive. Our favorite Sunday night place was called “Traveler’s Rest” and it averaged a full six dollars for our family of six to eat burgers there. But there was always plenty of food on the table at home and it was always delicious. My brother was allergic to chicken, so when we had chicken, we had a small dish of some other kind of meat for him. Everyone was considered and everyone counted. My mother did not carry a couple of dishes to the fellowship meal, either. She carried a huge meat casserole or a couple of fried chickens, several side dishes, some cornbread and a big cake or banana pudding. If my mother ever had a maiden, she would have had plenty to eat, too. And I can never remember one meal around that table when we did not bow our heads and thank the Lord for the food.

My mother considered her purchases and used them well. She was frugal. I actually remember her sending us through multiple lanes at the store, so we could each be a customer and take advantage of “one-per-customer” savings. I remember buying fabric from the remnant bins and canned goods from the dented bin. I remember making our own popsicles and culottes. (Does anybody remember those?) She saved and redeemed green stamps. She sold encyclopedias and she taught school in our little Christian school for our tuition and we all went to school together. She saved the remnants of bars of soap and Daddy melted them down and made big new multi-colored bars. Free outings included the library and window shopping trips. Our shoes came from a little hole-in-the-wall place called “Salvage Shoes,” but we loved going there! She made everything fun and there was no place the kids in her Sunday School class had rather be than in our yard. One of them said one day, “I love going to Johnnia’s. She’s got a gallon of kids!”

She stretched out her hand to the poor and reached out her hands to the needy. My mother sent shoes to the prison where a neighbor boy ended up after his mother left home and he turned to drugs. I remember frequent walks up the street to Mrs. Brackin’s house, when she was feeble, to carry food from our kitchen or garden. I remember how Mother cared for Kathleen and Chris and Patrick when their mother went a little crazy and left them. I remember a little girl we picked up for worship services. She lived in the basement of an old upholstery shop on the Pratt Highway. I remember she didn’t smell good, but she loved coming with us. I remember another man who often rode with our family to worship and two older women, too. I remember Mother finding a place in a Christian orphanage for some children up the street when their parents left them destitute. Most of all, I remember the years and tears and fears of her caring for my grandparents. I remember when that small sewing room was converted to a sick room for them. I remember Mother’s sacrifices of travel and time with my dad. I remember the crowded conditions and the worry about their health. I remember my mother’s attendance at their hospital beds and their death beds. I remember the agony she suffered when they left empty spaces after her years of care.

My mother made tapestries and coverings. She used quilting frames suspended from the ceiling. They made walking through the small living room next to impossible. She made at least four quilts and coverings for my babies’ nurseries. As I write, I have company up in my guest room and she is sleeping under one of those quilts. My mother was keenly interested in making all kinds of things. She embroidered and smocked and made dolls and aprons. She made sweatsuits and curtains, stuffed bears and potholders, purses and pajamas. We wore handmade dresses and coats and bonnets. We had the best halloween costumes and great parts in school plays because the teacher knew she could count on our costume designer. Christmas spilled out everywhere in our little house. We, in short, had it made. We had it all made by our mother.

She opened her mouth with wisdom and kindness. Time and space constrain me, but let me just say that profundity is when an adult can think back and still remember phrases and their intonations—phrases that were spoken forty-plus years ago. Things like:

“Cindy, if you read your Bible and find out that I have taught you something that’s not right, you do what the Bible says. Know that doing that is what will make me happy.”

“Cindy, people who make fun of you for doing the right thing are the same people who, really, deep down in their hearts, respect you for it. One day you will learn that.”

“Cindy, you had better be very careful about everything you do, because there are two little sisters who are watching every move you make and they want to be just like you.”

“Cindy, don’t ever let your boyfriend give you money. that’s just not respectable.”

My mother feared the Lord. I really believe this was the trump card that made all of the above so evident in her life. She had this amazing way of boiling all of the decisions of daily life down to the question, “What is most pleasing to God?” The question was pervasive and invasive, and we visited it and revisited it on a daily basis. Conviction took us to every service and to run the children’s bus program an hour before each service of the church. Conviction had her sew a gym uniform for me that met all the class standards but had extra length for modesty. Conviction had a class full of middle school girls learning about fearing the Lord. Conviction had her spending time with them outside the classroom in cook-outs in our yard and in flower-picking trips to make bouquets for girls who were leaving for college. Conviction had her opening up that worn-out Bible and showing us passages relevant to some raunchy attitude she was seeing in us or some discourteous remark made. If we weren’t careful, she was assigning us long passages to learn; passages that she deemed appropriate to help adjust our attitudes or demeanor (and we weren’t even home schoolers). The Bible was just like a giant magnet in the middle of the metal of our lives. It was the control, the draw, the reference point.

I cannot remember anyone ever commenting that my mother was charming. But many people of all ages filed by her casket in October of 1992 and commented that she was the best Bible teacher they had ever had. They cited that she had made the Bible come alive or that she had made even the outcast among them feel worthy. That night I was glad for the fulfillment of the prophetic proverb: Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman that fears the Lord, she shall be praised.

This has been long. If you only could know how selective I have been, you would appreciate the post for its brevity. My mother was not perfect. She was often weakened by sin, but then strengthened by the power of His might. She struggled with evil, but overcame with prayer. She sometimes fainted, but was renewed by the Spirit. See, though she was larger than life to this little girl, she was only human. I had to grow up to know she wasn’t really perfect. And, just about the time I began to see her human-ness, the possibility that she had flaws, her mortal limitations, she went and put on immortality. My mother really is sinless now. She is perfect, flawless, completely invincible. I can truly call her blessed.

“I have to tell you that over the course of several years as I have talked to friends and family and neighbors when I think about members of my own staff who are in incredibly committed monogamous relationships, same-sex relationships, who are raising kids together, when I think about those soldiers or airmen or marines or sailors who are out there fighting on my behalf and yet feel constrained, even now that Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is gone, because they are not able to commit themselves in a marriage, at a certain point I’ve just concluded that for me personally it is important for me to go ahead and affirm that I think same sex couples should be able to get married.” President Obama

Yes, he did. He did announce his support of homosexual marriages. He did become the first sitting president to do so. His rationale?

1. He talked to friends and family and neighbors.
2. He thought about staff members who are in monogamous, same-sex relationships.
3. He thought about same-sex couples who are raising children together.
4. He thought about servicemen who feel constrained.

I guess there are a few people with whom he didn’t talk and a few things he didn’t think about:

1. He talked to friends and family, but he didn’t talk to anyone who has passed into eternity. In eighty short years, President Obama and everyone who will vote in this election will have passed into eternity. It will not matter at all there what views have been expressed by friends and family. It will matter what the Holy Spirit said about those who commit the sin of homosexuality and about those who approve the sin: Who knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them. (Romans 1:32) President Obama, today announced that he is worthy of death.
2. He did not think about those whose lives and families have been devastated by AIDS. Funny, as this announcement was being made by Obama, I was helping a friend, in an AIDS clinic. It is a place of quiet despondency and death. It is a place that would not exist in our city were it not for the sin of homosexuality. (It is also a place, by the way, where there are postings everywhere–literally, on just about every wall–encouraging patients to tell their social workers if they would like to register to vote. This is a place for government funded counsel, medicine, and housing for people who’ve contracted AIDS and for their children, many of whom will soon be wards of the state. It doesn’t take very long to feel the national burden of AIDS in such a place and to understand that voting for the funding candidate is important to the jobs of those who operate the free clinics.)
3. He thought about children, but he did not think about the thousands of children who are orphaned each year because of the rampant sin of homosexuality; the sin he is necessarily normalizing by his statement.
4. He thought about servicemen who feel constrained, but he did not think about the many servicemen and women–God-fearing service men and women– who are ever more fearful to even articulate their core religious belief about the sinfulness of homosexuality, even in private Bible studies, much less public arenas.

Why did he have to tell us? Your guess would be as good as mine. I believe he already had the votes of the homosexual population. I believe him. I believe, in his mis-guided conscience, it was an affirmation that was personally important for him. After all, if a person does not believe the Bible, and he obviously does not, then there is not one thing wrong with homosexuality, bestiality, pedophilia, infanticide, abortion, and a litany of other sins. In fact, outside the Bible, there exists a rationale for any sin, and it becomes just a matter of time until morality erodes to the level of implosion for any society. Our very first commander-in-chief, General George Washington, referred to the sin of homosexuality with “abhorrence and detestation of such infamous crimes.” His stance was not a surprise in 1778 and did not meet with dissonance in the young country. In the big scheme of things, it really hasn’t taken so long to take the moral plunge from a President drumming a homosexual soldier out of the camp in shame, to one proposing that he be honored in the sacred ceremony of marriage.

The saddest part about Obama’s statement yesterday is that it was not a surprise, either. May God help our still young country.

(P.S. Have you ever thought about the fact that the excessive government control of the current administration is intended to re-shape the moral and fiscal fiber of our nation? I mean, if we continue to make larger and larger portions of the population dependent on government clinics, housing, food , etc…for survival, and we continue to register these ever larger dependent populations to vote, then the country’s leadership will naturally evolve into socialists. In a socialist culture, self reliance, human dignity, and morality become rare commodities.)

I got a Mother’s Day card a few days early this year. But it has encouraged me over and over during the past week. In fact, it was such a blessing to me that I wanted to share it with you.

The front of the card said “Is it true that all daughters become their mothers?” Then I opened it and read this: “I sure hope so. Happy Mother’s Day.”

I have gotten a card much like this from my daughter every year (only Hannah’s are usually pretty funny and a bit sarcastic–I love them!). What is different about this card is that it was not from either of my children. At the bottom of this card was this closing greeting:

To my spiritual mother in Christ–
I’m so thankful for all you have taught me!
Love,
Amber Gilreath

Now, I am humbled by this because while there are lots of worthy spiritual mothers, I’m so flawed–daily flawed–that I have a tough time being the example to my own kids that I want to be, much less to those who could be looking to me from other biological families. The point is, Amber is looking–to me, to ladies in her congregation, to her sweet mother-in-law–for strength and teaching and encouragement. Older women in the body have never had a greater Titus 2:3-5 burden than we do today. There has never been a greater need to strengthen and guide younger women than we find in our churches right now. When I think about the sin they daily face in work places, the cultural expectations to disrespect their husbands and neglect their children, the barrage of materialism and the constant pull of worldliness, I feel for their spirits, worry about their souls, and fear for their children. I know God has challenged older women of 2012 in a very practical way in Titus 2. We are part of the answer to the problems of the kingdom in our day. So why are we falling down on this job of teaching younger women?

I think there are several reasons. One is that, although we are faithful women, we feel unworthy and unqualified to teach. Secondly, we sometimes feel our advice or guidance is not enlisted or welcomed by younger women. Thirdly, we are not the faithful older women described in Titus 2:3 (holy, not false accusers, etc…); thus we truly are unqualified to be teachers.

Whatever the reason for our failure, I hope to challenge older readers to do better at fulfilling Titus 2. While the command to teach does not require us to be public speakers, it does require us to be teachers. It is required–not suggested– and the nature of the teaching is outlined specifically. Truth is, I don’t get to choose whether or not I teach, no matter the difficulty involved, and I don’t get to choose what I teach. It’s all there. Even more sobering, God specifies a dire consequence of our failing to teach. The Word of God will be blasphemed.

I know I have often failed at teaching the “good things.” I have often failed at even living the “good things.” But Amber made me want to try harder. She made me want to encourage others to try harder. So I am sending a card like the one Amber sent to me to an older woman in my life who has impacted me to be a better wife and mother. I hope you will, too. In some small way, we could bless our congregations for their future generations if we could each encourage one older woman to stay the course of teaching the younger women.

The aged women likewise, that they be in behavior as becomes holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things;
That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children,
To be discreet, chaste, keepers at home, good, obedient to their own husbands, that the word of God be not blasphemed (Titus 2:3-5).

Here’s an idea of how your chart will appear:

Speaking of that blood-bought institution, I am excited about her future. My husband, Glenn, is an elder in the Lord’s church at West Huntsville. We received the following letter in the mail from one of our sweet children, Marli. It was in her own handwriting and decorated with colored pencils. It makes my heart sing! Enjoy.

Dear Mrs. Colley,
Thank-you for the dress. I can’t wait to where it. It looks very pretty. I love the color. I think white is a lovely color. I hope I don’t get stan’s on it. My mom is going to buy me some new shoes.

I know Mr Colly worrys about our church. Please tell him not to worry because we kids will grow up good and take care of things.

Love,
Marli