Church Camp

Last night, Central Friends Camp started. So, for nine more days, we will be at church camp!

As you all know, I love church camp. What I do hate, is going into camp tired before I even arrive. I always try to prevent that from happening, but, this year, as with any other year, it is the second day of camp, and I am exhausted.

But, I still love camp.

Our evangelist is Robert Thornton, from PA, and our singers are the Daniel Edwards Family.

It looks as if the weather is going to cooperate.

If you think of it, pray for us. And, if you want to be here without being here, there is live audio and video every evening at 7:30. Check it out @ www.centralyearlymeetingoffriends.org .

Booking Photo

Every Friday, as I have noted before, I check out the weekly mug shot round up on www.thesmokinggun.com .

I found this gem tonight.

Spring break, circa 1910???

Singing Friends Memories, Part 2

Karen Walden mentioned that I could write a book about the things we Singing Friends had happen to us over the years.


We once had a lead singer named Jonathan Walden. And a baritone named Travis Johnson. What one would not think up, the other one would.

Both of them had this habit of switching the first letters of two words around. Such as, Mohn Jyers, instead of John Myers.

Travis, without thinking, one time tried that with "fire truck." It came out really bad.

They would do this in practice as we would rehearse our songs. I always told them that one day, in front of a lot of people, this would come back to bite them. But, noooooo, they wouldn't listen.

Around 1993-94, we were singing in Wichita, KS. Smaller church, but it was PACKED. Standing room only, with many people standing for the entire concert.

Back then, we sang a song entitled, "Shine on for Jesus." It is an old Cathedrals song.

Jonathan sang the lead. Verse was supposed to say, "Now, if your heart's been bolted shut, and needs to be set free, Jesus will unlock it, He holds the master key."

That's what Jonathan was supposed to sing. What he sang was:

"Now, if your heart's been sholted butt, and needs to be set free..."

Someone later gave us a video tape of that concert. The look on James Cassady's face was something you would just have to see. It was a mixture of shock, horror, and of being on the verge of erupting in laughter.

Which all of us ended up doing.

Not one person in that audience caught what happened. No one knew why the song came to a screeching halt as four idiots on stage fell apart laughing.

The last half of that concert was rather unique, to say the least.

Singing Friends Memories

We had Penn View's Quartet as overnight guests Wednesday night. We stayed up way too late talking, laughing, and having a good time.

We ended up talking some about the wild and crazy things that the Singing Friends got themselves into over the years.

Probably the strangest service we were ever in was in Columbus, OH.

A Southern Gospel promoter from Eastern Ohio called us and had two churches that wanted us to sing for them, one on a Sunday morning, one on Sunday evening. The Sunday A.M. concert has long since slipped from memory. Except for one thing. The promoter was in attendance at that concert, and apologized in advance for getting us into the church that we were to sing at Sunday evening. That should have been our first clue.

We pulled up in front of the church that Sunday evening. Store front church. "Old Sons of Thunder Church of God" was the name on the front of the church. "Old Sons of Thunder"???? I never have figured out what that name meant.

This church happened to be in the worst part of town. Really bad part of town. Really bad.

Have you ever seen those comics/cartoons in the paper that have a big hooked nosed, really ugly, big boned caricature of the "bad guy?" You know, the one that you just know by looking at him that he is going to be the one doing the crime and the time? The one who has a short little side kick that does what the big guy says to do?

Those guys had been hired by the church to guard the parking lot during the service because of all the break-ins and thefts that had taken place. That night they were also to guard our bus, since the only place to park it was at the curb in front of the church.

Now, some of you have figured out by now that this was not a Conservative Holiness church. Oh, no. Not by a long shot.

These folks put the charismatic in the name. Pentecostal, tongues, what ever you want to call them, they were it. To the extreme.

Several interesting things happened that night:

1. Their own people sang for better than an hour and a half before we were allowed up to sing.

2. There were lots of manifestations of "tongues" that night.

3. The pastor's wife had a "new Divine revelation" that week. She said that the Lord had shown her that even though God was displeased with the people that were building the Tower of Babel for trying to get to heaven that way, God WAS pleased with their unity, so He gave them the gift of tongues. (!?!?!??)

4. Several people tried to leave during the service, but the church members literally pulled their coats off of them, and dragged them to the altar.

5. We left the service and went to the bus because it got so wild and crazy. While sitting on the bus, we prayed that the Lord would bind the ones that were speaking in tongues while we were singing. The Lord answered that prayer. I will never forget one woman sitting to our right as we sang that looked as if she was bound by invisible ropes.

6. While we were loading or unloading our equipment, (I can't remember which) a drunk stumbled down the side walk between the bus and the church. I do mean stumbled. He could barley remain vertical. The city of Columbus had had the foresight to plant tree's in the middle of the sidewalk just to be a nuisance to drunks.

This poor fellow had gone all the way past our bus when one of those tree's jumped right out in front of him. His face missed it by about an inch. Something about that jarred this inebriated man enough that his brain said, "hey, dude, you just missed something!" So he turned around, looked at me, and slurred, "Hey, nice VAN!"

We lost it.

Last, after we had finally sang, the pastor walked up to me, handed me a $100 check, and said, "You have, (here he paused for a second) a unique sound."

Then, he turned around, and those were the last words he ever said to me.

We never were invited back. And would have declined if they had asked.

Sometimes the Craziest Ideas Pop into My Brain

I have ADHD, or at least Monica says so. I choose to enjoy it, rather than fight it.

Sometimes, the craziest things pop into my brain, and sometimes come out my mouth.

Last Friday, I was on the phone with a guy from North Carolina. I was ordering a bus part for a friend of mine. The fellow on the other end of the line was having a bit of a time looking up the part I needed. In the process of trying to find it, he said to me, "Bear with me a moment."

I ALMOST said, "I prefer to keep my clothes on, thank you very much."

But, at the last nanosecond, something kept that from coming out my mouth.


My former pastor always said the same thing right before he dismissed in prayer. "Does anyone have anything on your heart."

I have always wanted to stand and say, "I have heartburn really bad!"

But my wife won't let me.


Care to share any of yours?

The Olive Garden Visit from the Dark Side

I love Olive Garden. My entire (small) family does. So tonight, to celebrate my wife's birthday (July 3rd), we drove to Muncie to eat.

Long before we got to our seats, I heard them. Him, actually. HE was the loudest.

"I wanna sit by mommy. iwannasitbymommy. I-WANT-TO-SIT-BY-MOMMY! IWANNASITBYMOMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And, the hostess sat us at the table, you guessed it, right next to them.

4 adults, 6 kids. Only one adult seemed to care, and he (the only adult male in the group) was a wimp of a parent.

After a while of "IWANNASITBYMOMMY", and lots of crying, Mr Wimp finally let the kid sit by mommy. I promise, this is a fact with my hand up: That kid's butt had no sooner hit the seat beside mommy, than I heard "I WANNA SIT BY DADDY!!!!!!!"

Dad: "What's going on here?"

Kid: "I wanna sit by daddy!"

Dad: "Be quiet!"

Kid: "I wanna sit by Daddy!"

Dad: "Knock it off!!!"

Kid: (Do I really need to tell you what the kid said???)

Dad: "Oh, come on, Nicholas."

And, on it went, for another ten minutes, until the dad took that kid to the table right behind me, where the other five kids were sitting.

Well, now we have Dad and Nicholas and five other pre-teen kids sitting right behind me. As in 18 inches behind me. (We need to talk to Olive Garden about how close they put those tables!)

I was hoping that with Dad moving to the "kids table" that it would get a bit quieter. Yeah, right.

At one point, I asked my wife if the part of the room behind me was destroyed. As soon as the words started leaving my mouth, one kid body slammed another one into the wall behind me. Literally.

Twice, one kid or another bumped the back of my chair so hard I almost swallowed my fork. Dad: "Hey, be careful. You hit that guy!"

And then I heard Dad say to one kid or another, "No, your mom was tested, she's going to be fine!"

While all of this was going on, the three adult women never made one move or said one thing to try and quiet this motley crew. Not until we were almost ready to leave did any one of them say a word to the kids about their "activity."

Most of OUR conversation consisted of "Huh?" and "I'm sorry, but I can't HEAR YOU!"

I wanted to ask the server to seat us elsewhere, but my wife did not want to "cause a scene." I wanted to cause a big scene. BIG SCENE!!! One other couple who had been seated after we were asked to be seated elsewhere, and they quickly left our area.

Since they had been seated when we arrived, I was hoping they would leave before we did so that we could have at least some semblance of a nice quiet dinner. Nope, as we stood to leave, so did they, and they followed us, loudly, out the front door of the restaurant.

And as we pulled out the drive, Dad was chasing 6 kids all over the parking lot, a worried look on his face. The ladies stood on the front sidewalk and talked.

Oh, the things I wanted to say...

"Praying Through"

I want to wade into what may be a deep theological discussion here. Someone please alert Travis Johnson. :)

Let me say up front that I am thinking out loud here. I have come to no definite conclusions about what I am going to say, and realize that for some these remarks may seem a bit controversial.

All my life I have heard it said that it is very important that we "pray clear through." Implied in this is that we get a witness in our spirit that the Lord has done the work in us that we are seeking.

In that, I agree. In matters that concern our lives, we must KNOW what God wants of us. Yes, I do believe that we can KNOW what God desires of us.

But, I have been thinking about something. Let me start it like this:

In many camp meetings and revivals over the years, I have seen some lay across the altar for hours, literally, seeking forgiveness, and/or seeking to be saved.

What I have to ask is this: What are they seeking? Forgiveness? A witness? A feeling? An emotion?

I am asking because it seems that we place the responsibility for forgiveness on OUR shoulders, not on God's, where it rightly belongs. See, it seems as if we believe that if we cry and weep over an altar long enough, that God will finally see that we mean business, and will finally deign to forgive us.

The Bible says that if we confess our sins, God is faithful to forgive us of our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

ALL the Bible says we are to do is confess. Not weep and cry and moan and wear out the ones who are praying for us at the altar.

Now, I am not saying that we should never pray, or even cry and weep, at an altar. I have done a little of that myself. But, have we misplaced the emphasis? Have we made our efforts at the altar more important than just accepting God's forgiveness?

If a person with an honest and sincere heart prays one time, "Oh, Lord, forgive me" does not God, in that very instant, forgive us?

Whew boy, there, I said it.

Thoughts?

My Favorite Southern Gospel Memory

As any one who knows me knows, I am and always will be the biggest Cathedral Quartet fan. Especially the group in the 80's: Glen, George, Mark, Danny, and Roger. None better. Ever.

So, in the mid 90's, long after Danny and Mark had left the group, my brother Todd and I found ourselves at a concert in Fort Wayne, IN at the Memorial Coliseum. The Cathedrals were the only group on the program. Was looking forward to it, but it just would not be the same without my favorite tenor and favorite baritone.

Concert time, the lights dim. (We were literally in the very last row of seats, nose bleed city!) We noticed that when they introduced the group, only four guys walked out on the stage.

Before they sing a note, George walks to the mic, and says something like this: "Ladies, and gentlemen, our tenor, Ernie Haase could not be here tonight. He has had to stay home for surgery on his hand due to a basketball injury.

"We looked high and low for someone to sing tenor for us this weekend. Ernie suggested that we call a particular tenor, but we figured he would be too busy to come. (Ed.: Yeah, right!)But we called him, and would you make welcome...

MR DANNY FUNDERBURK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The place went crazy. Todd and I were beside our selves. What a dream come true. Danny with the Cathedrals for one last concert. Pinch me, please.

I have seen the Cathedrals many times over the years. I have never heard them as energized as they were that night. It was magical. On the last note of "We Shall See Jesus" Glen and Danny were nailing it so hard, they blew a fuse in the sound system, and it died. And all the way in the nose bleed section, we could still hear those two holding the note, after the system had already died.

We talked with Danny after the concert. He knew us somewhat from some phone conversations that I had had with him when the record label he was working for at the time released a song for us.

We asked him where else he was going to be that weekend, and found out that the Cathedrals were going to be in Grand Rapids, MI, on a Sunday afternoon, for a FREE concert.

Well, you already know where Todd and I ended up on Sunday afternoon. Large church, seated about 5000, they said. Less than 15 minutes after the doors opened, all of the seats on the main floor of the sanctuary were filled, all but the back row. Which is where I was headed.

Todd was more observant than I, and he noticed about 100 chairs that had been placed on the stage around where the group was to sing. Yep, front row for us, on the stage. Oh, and on the side that Danny would be singing.

Emcee introduces the group, again four guys. Again, George gives the same speech as he had in Fort Wayne.

And, to great applause, Danny makes his way on stage.

And walked straight to us and asked "What are you guys doing all the way up here????"

In front of 5000+ people.

And through the course of the concert, Danny would make his way to me and Todd and converse with us.

Wow.


As soon as the concert was over, the pastor of this very large church almost knocked people over to get to me and Todd to shake our hands and tell us how glad he was that we were there. I have always assumed that he thought we were great friends of the Cathedrals.

Nope. Just a couple of nobodies.

Who had just lived out a dream.

Danny Vs. Ernie

For many years, I heard a great debate about who was the better tenor, Ernie Hasse, or Danny Funderburk. As I am sure you know, there was never any doubt for me. Danny is THE tenor. Need proof?


Someone posted this on YouTube.

Beer, Fireworks, and Rednecks!

Boy, I bet that title got your attention!

For many years, my family has gone to Portland, IN for fireworks. Small town, good atmosphere, GREAT fireworks.

For the past several years, we have parked beside a group of people that have made a day out of the festivities. They bring canopies, gas grills, food, and a few games. For the last two years, they have invited us to join in the games, such as "corn hole."

We laugh together, cheer each other on, and have a good time. Nice people.

They always are parked on our right as we face the fireworks.

The problem this year was to our left.

About 6 twentysomething certified redneck males, and two certified redneck twentysomething girls parked 3 spaces down from us. 15 feet or so.

Beer flowed freely. A lot too freely.

And, there were lots of fireworks. Lots.

I have never seen an idiot light bottle rockets straight out of his hand until last night. They are called "bottle" rockets for a reason! These dimwitted drunks were evidently oblivious to this fact.

I learned last night that when you light a bottle rocket in your hand, (1) you have a tendency to get burned, and (B)you have very little control over where said bottle rocket goes.

And, (d)I learned that drunk rednecks with bottle rockets have no apparent concern for children in the vicinity.

One bottle rocket hit the ground about 20 feet in front of these goons, and ricocheted right back at them. I must say that they made quite a scene ducking and running. Another rocket landed no more than 20 feet from some pre-teen girls.

And this was all before they brought out the cannon type fireworks-the ones that go KAAAWAUUMMPPPFFFF when you light them.

Thankfully, they only had three of them.

So, with beer in hand, they tried unsuccessfully to decapitate themselves.

After a while, all of that beer seemed to lull them into sleep, and thankfully, we heard precious little out of them while the actual fireworks show was going on.

We will park somewhere else next year.

I'm Proud to be an American...

...where at least I know I'm free.

And you know the rest.

I am proud that we still have the freedom to:

Worship freely.

Own guns (Thank you Supreme Court!).

Think freely.

Vote.

Say what I want.

Own Property.

Attend whatever Church I believe God wants me to.

Love.

Work in what ever profession I choose.

Freely associate with whom ever I choose.

Be a conservative.

Protect my family.

And the list goes on...

You know what? On this Fourth of July, I am still proud to be called an American. I still love this nation. I am proud of the President we currently have. (YES I AM!!!)

I am glad that President Bush has been a man who has not governed by polls, who has governed by the dictates of his heart, his intellect, his faith.

I am glad for the men and women who are serving in the military. They fight in OUR name. Are you a Republican? They fight in our name. Are you a Democrat? They fight in your name. Liberal? Conservative? Libertarian? Green Party? They fight in your name.

Last week, they buried a 21 year old Marine in the cemetery at the end of our road. I went to the graveside later that night, and just stood with my family there for a few minutes. I had tears in my eyes. I do now.

Lance Corporal Whitacre fought and died for us. He was killed in Iraq by an IED. Only 21.

So, today, July the 4th, 2008, I live my life, freely, because of countless soldiers who fought and died like Lance Corporal Whitacre.

And tonight, as I sit and watch the fireworks with my family, I will remember that it was men and women like Whitacre that have given us a reason to celebrate.

Thanks to them, we are free.