What will matter is whether we knew Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior and how faithfully we lived for Him.

Some stories, you know the fellow personally. Other stories, you know a fellow who knows a fellow. This is one of those. A buddy told me about an older gentleman who had coon hunted when he was younger and had always wanted to get back into it. Eventually, the kids grew up, work slowed down a little, and he decided it was time to buy himself a dog. Now, this gentleman was careful with his money. And by “careful,” I mean he could stretch a dollar bill until you could put fitte

We hear one side of a story and figure we’ve heard enough. Somebody tells us what a neighbor said, what a church member did, or what a family member supposedly meant, and before we’ve checked anything, we’ve got our screwdriver out. We’re ready to straighten somebody out. Then we cross a connection we didn’t understand, sparks fly, and somebody gets hurt. Proverbs 18:13 says: "He that answereth a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and shame unto him.”

Sitting there listening, I began to know my family more deeply. I learned what made them laugh, what they had endured, and what they had worked hard to provide. Some stories were history. Some were hilarious. Some taught lessons that have stayed with me all my life. And none of that would have happened if we had finished supper and everybody disappeared into a separate room.

As we go through life, we meet all kinds of people. Some stay for a moment, some for a season, and some settle so deeply into our hearts that we carry them with us for the rest of our lives. Logan and Cleo were that kind of people for me. I was a young college graduate when I started working on the farm. Along the road leading to work, I kept seeing this older couple out and about. They were always busy, although from what I could tell, Cleo was running the operation and Loga

One of the most exciting places I visited when I was young was the old Army-Navy store. That place was paradise. It was the redneck version of Big Lots, except somebody had improved it by adding guns, ammunition, and enough government surplus to outfit half of Buchanan County. When I got old enough to want camouflage, that was the place to go. The selection reminded me of the old saying about Henry Ford’s Model T: you could have any color you wanted, as long as it was black.

It was fall of the year, and a competition squirrel hunt had been organized to raise money for a little boy with medical needs. A local pastor agreed to host it at the church he pastored, and they had a great turnout. Mix hunting with a good cause, and folks will show up. Some of them might even arrive early, which proves they have the ability. The plan was pretty standard: draw out the casts, hunt for a few hours, and return to the church for lunch. A day with hunting, food,

Back in my farming days, I rode horses quite a bit. One of the best horses I ever owned was a black Tennessee Walking Horse named Shadow. He had a moon eye, was sharp to look at, and would do just about anything I asked him to do. I worked cattle off Shadow. I checked fence rows on him. And sometimes I climbed in the saddle for no other reason than I just enjoyed riding him. We also had another good riding horse named Easter. Easter was a pretty horse and, for the most part,

When Mephibosheth arrived, he fell before David, probably terrified of what the king might do. Instead, David said: "Do not fear, for I will show you kindness for the sake of your father Jonathan... and you shall eat at my table always." — 2 Samuel 9:7

As I was getting ready to enter the ninth grade, I decided I wanted a little freedom—and freedom, as I understood it, required money. I have always had an independent streak, so I asked Mom and Dad if I could get a job. I would ride my Huffy ten-speed bicycle to work, make the grand sum of $3.35 an hour, and every Friday stop by Standard Savings and Loan to deposit part of my paycheck. Since I was volunteering to work and save money, my parents did not put up much of a fight.

It’s football time again in the Million Dollar Coalfields. Around here, when fall settles into the mountains and the stadium lights come on, Friday night football is about as close as some folks get to a weekly family reunion. It takes me back to my senior year of high school and one particular Friday night when the Grundy Golden Wave traveled to play the Tazewell Bulldogs. My mom and dad owned a used blue Jeep Grand Wagoneer with wood paneling down the sides. That thing was

"Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men."Colossians 3:23 (ESV) Notice those words: whatever you do. For a Christian, there shouldn't be a great divide between "church stuff" and "regular life." We represent Christ in both. If I'm working at the mines, driving a truck, teaching a class, running a business, cleaning a bathroom, preaching a sermon, coaching a ball team, or serving somebody who can never repay me, my work says something about the God I

I learned that preparation matters. I learned choices have consequences. I learned moldy tents smell terrible. And I learned that three McDonald's cheeseburgers taste mighty good after two days of living on candy bars.

When they hear their name, they know it is their turn. They know their names, and I know them. I know which one is going to listen, which one is going to push the limits, and which one is probably going to act like he suddenly forgot every bit of training he has ever had because there is a bowl of dog food twenty feet away.

There she was. A big ol’ Black Angus cow, swollen up like somebody had hooked an air compressor to her, all four legs sticking straight toward heaven. Now, a couple days earlier we’d had one awful lightning storm. Apparently ol’ Moo-Moo had been standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught a ride on the lightning, and lost.

One of the things I have always loved about dogs is their loyalty. A good dog doesn't care much about your bank account, your position, what kind of truck you drive, or whether somebody down the road has better treats. If you're his person, you're his person. There is an old joke that says if you want to find out who is really loyal, lock your spouse and your dog in the trunk of your car for fifteen minutes. Then open the trunk and see which one is happy to see you. Now, plea

I was sitting at a local gas station the other day having a cup of coffee and just letting my ears catch up on all the local news. I’ve found that’s a whole lot cheaper than buying a newspaper and, depending on who’s sitting around the table, sometimes more accurate than social media. Around here, gas stations, beauty shops, and little country stores have always had a way of getting right to the heart of a matter. By the time you finish your coffee, you can know who got marri

As I get older, I find myself looking back down roads I’ve already traveled. And like a lot of folks, sometimes I catch myself thinking things were just better years ago. You hear people say, “We need to get back to the old days, when life was simpler. Folks raised their own food, worked with their hands, and didn’t have all these modern distractions.” I was talking to an older gentleman one day and mentioned that to him. He laughed and said, “The only people wanting to go ba

I wasn't winning the fight. I was just holding on while somebody else fought it for me.

"I know exactly what you boys were doing...I can catch you anytime I want...now get yourselves back where you belong." He never wrote us a ticket. He never stopped us. He simply gave us an opportunity to do the right thing.