Woe Is Me

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“Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” These words are spoken by Isaiah as he experiences the pure holiness of God and is called as God’s prophet. It is an awesome and humbling encounter convicting Isaiah with a sense of guilt and unworthiness and causing him to feel reluctant and hesitant. This captures, in a true sense, what many have felt as they answered God’s call to be witnesses and teachers. I believe some observable attributes have always characterized the lives of the saints in our history. Following are some thoughts:

1. The authentic call of God is evidenced by unconditional love and compassion for all people in all places and all times. “For God so loved the world… God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him (John 3:16-17).”

2. Saints have a hesitancy to judge others usually brought on through a deep and contrite awareness of their own sin. “How can you say to your neighbor, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ while the log is in your own eye (Matthew 7:4)?

3. Saints are truth-telling, neighbor-loving, humble-walking witnesses who engage others in prayerful, inclusive, loving dialogue and understand, clearly, that our passion to defend our own personal beliefs often blinds us to God’s call to love.

As I pray this morning and reflect on the above, I feel my heart moved and I understand, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” And, for me,…. It’s back on the Potter’s wheel over and over again…….. “How is it with your soul?”

Brother Mike


I Saw Santa Claus

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It was always my Dad's favorite Christmas story and, almost every year, he would ask me to share with others my experience on Christmas Eve, 1955. It was a long time ago, but the memory is as clear today as the experience was that night.

We were living in Goodwater and had been to Ashland for dinner with several family members. We had stayed fairly late, and I was concerned about getting home before Santa came and getting into bed like a good little boy. I was full of anxious and hopeful anticipation.

 As we pulled into the driveway, the lights of the car shined directly into the window of the living room. There he was, Santa Claus, looking directly into the lights of the car. I shouted, "There's Santa Claus next to the tree." The car had barely stopped as I jumped out and dashed to the door. I opened the door, turned on the light, and dashed through the small house looking for Santa only to realize he was gone.

I ran quickly back into the living room and realized Santa had been there and he must have gotten my letter because under the tree was a "Coonskin Davy Crockett hat" and a "Smoke-gun." My Mom and Dad asked me what I had seen that made me jump out and run in as I had. I explained that Santa was standing in the window. He turned and looked with surprise when he was caught in the headlights, and he had scampered toward the back door. When I came into the house, he was nowhere to be found.

That was sixty-five years ago. Until the day they died, our family always liked to talk about that experience, and none of us could ever explain it. But, I know this, "On that night, a long time ago, I saw Santa Claus." And, that vision is as real today as it was that night.

Perhaps, if we allow our hearts to be filled with faith, hope, joy, and love this Christmas, we could catch a glimpse of Emmanuel, "God With Us," this Christmas.

Get Ready! Look and listen! "Some will dream dreams; others will see visions." May it happen for you this Christ-Mass season.

Blessings, Bro. Mike 

What I Want For Christmas

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 I remember the night well. I was in the third grade and our family had gone to Montgomery for a night of “window shopping.” Window shopping was a ploy during which people walked the sidewalks in front of all the big stores and looked at all the potential gifts displayed in the window to assess other’s attraction to the various toys, etc. on display. And there was a surprisingly good correlation between the emotions one displayed for the various gifts and what ended up under the Christmas tree from Santa.

     I had always loved window shopping but, on this night, I just could not get excited about anything. Just that week, a wiser classmate than I had told me the “truth” about Santa Claus. He told me that my parents had to pay Santa for everything he left at our house. Well, that was a bummer. My Mom and Dad were great people and fun to be around, but we did not have a lot of extra money and the way we got extra money was for one or both to work overtime. That meant less family time together. I had calculated in my eight-year-old mind the way to keep that from happening was not want anything for Christmas. So, I acted as if nothing in any of the windows was of any interest to me at all.

     It did not take my mother long to realize something was wrong and, as only she could do with a couple of questions, she unveiled the truth. I broke down crying and blubbered out, “Ole ______ had told me about Santa.” After Mother recovered from her anger with _______ (who she never forgave) for having broken my innocence, she sat down on a bench with me and explained Christmas Clubs and savings that enabled extra spending at Christmas and we would not miss out on any of the “good times” because we would all be together. It was amazing how quickly that assurance enabled my attention to return to the many attractions in the windows.

     Now, as I process that experience almost sixty-five years later, I realize how very precious presence is when compared to presents. A truth in our lives is all the presents in the world can not make up for the presence of those we love and there is no better time to celebrate this than during the Christmas season. So, I encourage you to find a way this Christmas season to be truly present with those you love. I know there is a pandemic going on and I think it could really be used in a wonderful way to give some quality presence to those you may wish to see and cannot. Here are a few thoughts:

  1. For those from whom you are not distancing, invite them into your presence and give them the gift of undivided attention for thirty minutes. Make their interest and concerns the center of your world. Encourage them and assure them of the importance of their role in your life and tell them you love them.

  2. For those you can not see in person, schedule some FaceTime or Zoom and follow the routine in number one above. I have been amazed how effective gatherings can be when you are present in these formats with others.

  3. Send cards and flowers with personal notes.

  4. Carve out some time to be truly present with Jesus. After all, Jesus is the reason we “live and move and have our being.” “Without Jesus, the Word of God, not one thing came into being.”

  5. ….. Do whatever other things you hear God tell you to do…. If you are present, God will speak….

     Do not ever forget, we live “in the Communion of the Saints.” I plan to spend a little time there in their presence (those past and present) and encourage you to do so too. To paraphrase Paul, “No pandemic nor anything else in all creation, can separate our hearts from those we love.” May we make this the best Christmas ever by being presents in new and authentic ways. And that is what I want for Christmas.               

               

With much love, MERRY CHRISTMAS, Mike & Patsy Coe  

The Bridge

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Years ago, on the first Walk to Emmaus at Camp Sumatanga in North Alabama, I had gone to sit and pray on a small bridge across the small creek that flows next to Hutto Auditorium. I was about to go into the conference room and give the talk on discipleship to the men there that weekend. I can remember working hard on the talk. I had researched, studied, practiced under critique, and fine-tuned the subject of discipleship to a point with which I thought God would be well pleased. 

No sooner had I begun to pray than a young girl, maybe ten to twelve years old, came along and plopped right down on the bridge with me. Immediately, she disrupted my time of prayer and preparation, “Hi, my name is Shannon, what’s yours?” Hoping she would leave, I told her and she immediately followed up with another question, “What are you doing here?” I began to explain to her that I was about to go give a very important talk about discipleship to a group of men on a retreat. She was not the least impressed and asked, “Where does the water in this creek come from?” I was beginning to get frustrated and was trying to decide how I could get her to leave so I could continue my praying and preparation. However, I took the time and explained to her that about a half a mile upstream in the creek, past the pool camp and above a beaver pond, there was a spring coming out of the side of the mountain that provided the water for the creek. Immediately, she wanted to know if we could go and see the spring. I explained to her again that I did not have time. I was trying to get ready to give this talk on discipleship and needed time to prepare. Her immediate response was, “Why? What’s so hard about that?”

That did it. It was time. I was ready for her to leave. However, that small voice that sometimes speaks to us and moves us to do what we do not want to do spoke to me and nudged me to ask Shannon if she knew what a disciple was. She never blinked or hesitated. She simply said, “Yes.” With more than a hint of skepticism, I said, “Well, why don’t you tell me what a disciple is?” She looked up at me and said, “Sure, a disciple is someone who talks like Jesus talked, walks like Jesus walked, and loves like Jesus loved.” 

Needless to say, my pen was busy instantly; scratching out my well planned conclusion and, only a few minutes later, the men on that retreat heard of an encounter at the bridge and learned that a disciple was someone who talks like Jesus talked, walks like Jesus walked, and loves like Jesus loved.

Thank you, Shannon, for those precious moments at the bridge. It has now been over thirty years since that day and I still use your definition of a disciple. 

Brother Mike Densmore

Memorial Day

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This weekend has always been a special time for me. When I was a young boy, we would always go to some cemeteries in Winston, Cullman, and Walker counties for Decoration Day. I remember walking among the graves, reading the headstones, listening to stories, and imagining those departed saints as heroes and leaders. We added dirt to sunken areas of graves, accented them with river pebbles, and placed flowers in awe and respect for their lives. Then, we would all share “dinner on the ground” and sing a bunch of gospel songs before going home. This was always a special day and until this day, precious memories remain.

After a few years, I noticed a few rows of special headstones on the edge of the cemetery As I spent  time there, I learned they were casualties from the Civil War, both union and confederate soldiers. I asked my grandfather (“Pop”) about them. He explained Decoration Day was also known as Memorial Day and it was intended to honor all veterans who had died in service for our country. He said that no one really knew, exactly, how or where it started. There were several stories from over a dozen places from during the Civil War. When people had gone out on Decoration Day, they were inspired to place flowers on the graves of soldiers from both armies. Ever since, the practice had grown to honoring all soldiers who died while defending our freedoms and liberty as Americans. I am not sure my “Pop” knew  a few years earlier, our government had made the last Monday in May official as Memorial Day.

I would ask each of us to remember this weekend is rooted in recognition of those who gave their life defending the rights and liberties we enjoy today in a time of pronounced internal conflict as a nation and, since that time, hundreds of thousands of others have sacrificed their lives to protect our lives and our “rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

As we remember, may we resolve that it is our time to learn to sacrifice and face some inconveniences for the sake of others.

God’s Blessings & be safe, Mike. 

Ms. Willie Mae

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 Ms. Willie Mae

I met Ms. Willie Mae the first afternoon of my first day in my first appointment. All four feet and ten inches of her showed up at the front door of the parsonage with a smile on her face and a plate full of fried apple pies with the steam still rising from them. As I took the pies from her, she pointed to her home, directly across the street, and said, “I live right there. I’m sure we’ll get to know each other real well.”

     Over the next few months, we did get to know each other well. I would go over to her house and we would sit out on the porch and swing in her swing. She was a snuff dipper and was proud of the way she could swing back and spit her tobacco juice into the shrubbery and never get a drop on her porch. I would learn that she had come to live in her little shotgun house when she was fourteen years old as the wife of a man over three times her age and that she had seldom been more than two miles from her house and the five acres of land it sat on. Quickly, I became amazed by the depth of her faith and the intimacy of her relationship with God. Early on, she informed me if I ever came over and heard her talking to someone I should not think it strange because she spent a lot of time talking to Jesus. I asked her if Jesus ever talked back to her to which she retorted, “Of course he does. You don’t think I’m crazy enough to keep talking to somebody who doesn’t talk to me do you.”

     I eventually learned that Ms. Willie Mae had lived a life full of challenges and tragedies. After giving birth to four children at a very early age, her husband died leaving her with nothing but a little 800 square foot house and five acres of land. She went to work washing, ironing, cooking, and cleaning house for other people in the mill village. In addition, she raised vegetables, chickens, pigs, and a cow for milk. Somehow, she was able to take care of her children and see that they were educated and had a good start in life. She was proud of her three sons and her “baby” girl.

     Her second tragedy came shortly after her oldest son had graduated from high school and joined the army. He had returned home on leave, gone out with some friends one night, and, on the way home, been killed in a car wreck. Ms. Willie Mae would often show his picture to me, talk about how much she missed him, and what a blessing he had been from God.

     About a year after we moved into the parsonage, the quietness of a Saturday night was shattered by someone knocking at the door. As I opened the door, Ms. Willie Mae’s next oldest son stepped into the room and asked, “Can you go over to Momma’s with me? Sally is dead.”

I was shocked. This was Ms. Willie Mae’s only daughter. Her husband had just come home from Viet Nam and they had gone to the lake to picnic and ski and, in a tragic accident, she had drowned.

 We went over to the house and knocked on the door. After a few minutes, Ms. Willie Mae came to the door, opened it, began crying, and immediately cried out, “Don’t tell me my Sally’s dead. Don’t tell me that.” Needless to say, it was a long dark night. The next few days were sad as we grieved together and had the funeral. Everyone was concerned as to whether or not Ms. Willie Mae would ever recover and if she would ever come back to church.

I went over to the house a couple of times and, each time, she was sitting in her rocker, holding her Bible, and just moaning. I began to wonder if she would ever return from the darkness of her grief. I wondered if we would ever sit on the porch again and laugh as she spat back into the bushes. I wondered if my sermons would ever again be interrupted by her uplifting, “Praise the Lord,” response to a point that resonated with her spirit in worship.

     However, my worries were short-lived. The first Sunday after the funeral, Ms. Willie Mae was back in church to the shock and surprise of us all. She walked in, just as the service was beginning, with a smile on her face and a little nod to everyone. She opened her hymnal and began to sing as if things were normal. Two times that morning, she even interrupted the sermon with a clear and strong, “Praise the Lord.” We were all amazed.

     Later that afternoon, I saw her in the swing on her front porch and went over to join her. We sat quietly for a while and she broke the silence. “Preacher, you know my life has not been easy. I’ve had to work hard. I never got an education and never had any money. There’s a lot I don’t understand. Two of my children are dead and I’m still here. It’s times like these that I’ve come to understand that, sometimes, you’ve just got to trust God. You just can’t get by no other way.”

     I know, without a doubt, that God nodded and smiled as the swing went back and she spit back into the bushes.

Brother Mike 

Balanced Perspective

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I was a young man beginning at the beginning of a corporate career. I was not very savvy about corporate politics, but very fortunate, the Director of Human Resources had taken a personal interest in my development plan. He chose me as his golf partner in our company golf league, and we played golf together every week for a number of years. George was a tremendously competitive man both on the golf course and in his professional life. He was a devout Christian with tremendous integrity.

   One day, as we were playing golf, I was briefing him on a significant issue we were facing, and he was asking particular questions to develop his understanding of the facts and what our responses had been to that point. As we were riding between shots, he suddenly said, “You need to make sure you have a blend of W.C. Fields and the Boy Scout Motto.” I was stunned and asked him what he meant. He replied, “The more experience you gain and the more challenges you have, you must always remain optimistic and, at the same time, always be prepared. Now, I’m going to make this putt, and if I don’t, you’re my back up plan.”

   I worked for George for about ten years, and we were partners the whole time. I never saw him compromise his integrity or violate his rule. He was always prepared and, as a result, always optimistic.

   As we work our way through the challenge/s that face us, may we optimistically claim, “This too shall pass,” as we wash our hands, maintain the discipline of social distancing, and continue to be prepared.

   A healthy perspective in life is always about hopeful optimism and being prepared.

Brother Mike Densmore

Humility: A Truly Spiritual Challenge

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Humility: A Truly Spiritual Challenge

     I remember over thirty-five years ago meeting with Claude Whitehead as a spiritual mentor, listening to his teaching, praying, and seeking a deeper relationship with Jesus. We each had goals and we would share how well, or not, we were progressing toward our goals. As we met one Monday afternoon, Claude began to share how devastated he was with the result of his effort to “become humble.” Trying to be pastoral, I implored into the disappointment of his failure. Claude was quick to respond, “It’s worse than that. This morning, I found myself feeling proud of my humility and, I had a vision. I was climbing a ladder toward humility and I could see the top. As I reached, I said, ‘Got it.’ Then, I fell back down the ladder hitting my chin on every step of the ladder. When I looked up, at the bottom, I saw the name of the first step was “humility.”

     True humility has forever been a spiritual challenge for us humans and true humility can only come through authentic surrender to the Lordship of Jesus. It is a challenge for each of us and especially to us as Americans. We are a blessed people, free and independent, with rights, privileges, and blessings second to no other people on the face of the earth. However, with that, comes tremendous liability and responsibility.

     How do we become humble enough to yield our freedom to the Sovereign control of God? How do we become humble enough to serve Jesus as Lord? How do we become humble enough to surrender our lives to the Authority of all authorities? It’s a truly spiritual challenge.

     Beware this challenge! It must be an authentic search and it’s a goal that can never be claimed. Oswald Chambers called conscious humility, “The most satanic type of human pride.” Think and pray before you begin this journey, you just might get your chin bruised. 

Brother Mike Densmore