 Brass Band 2014 “I don’t know about you,” said the older man with the crow’s feet around the eyes and the gray feathering its way through his temples, “But I am about as tired as I can be of the morals flaming out around me. It seems to me that no matter where I turn, the rights and wrongs have gotten all twisted up. I mean, when I was a chap none of this catting around would be put up with, especially not in the high places; but now it seems that nobody cares anymore about anything or anybody but themselves. “If it don’t bother me, who cares?” That’s what they say. “Darn fools.” He shifted a bit in his seat to keep this part or that from falling asleep, and then dove back into his attack. “I think I know what the problem is. I think I know why we’re in such a fix, and I think I know how to cure it. You see it’s like this. We are all alone out there. We sit around, side by side, and don’t even talk to each other. We fuss that the morals of this great country are headin’ south, and nobody’s listening. If I’ve heard it once, I’ve heard it a thousand times, “Those politicians and judges are taking my morals and my God and throwing Him and them in the trashcan, and I don’t know what to do about it. I try to raise my kids right, but the schools and the T.V. try to raise ‘em wrong and win most of the time. What’s a fella to do?’ That’s what I hear, and I think I know where we’re going wrong.” “You see, it’s like this. Back in my day, just before the Great War, we were all doing pretty well. Yea, we heard about the war in Europe and all, but that wasn’t us. That was them, and what were we supposed to do about it? Now some among us had kin over there, and they would cry out that their kinfolk were being killed, and we needed to do something to help. Now we weren’t about to go get ourselves killed for their kinfolk. They weren’t our kinfolks. They were their kinfolk, so let them go die for them, not us. But one day, December 7th as I recall, the Japanese flew into Pearl Harbor and bombed our boys. They killed our people. They attacked us. Now it wasn’t their kinfolk, it was our kinfolk being killed, and we had to do something about it. On account of that horrible day though, something strange and wonderful happened. Because of Pearl we came to life. There weren’t no more blacks, or whites, or men or women. There was just us, and we had to do something to protect our nation and our people. In the flash of a torpedo we turned from a nation of “I” into a nation of “we.” It wasn’t "I" have had it with Hitler and his crowd,’ it was "we" have had it,’ and after that we knew we were going to win. After the “I” became “we,” we had them. Multiply that "we" a million times and there was no stopping us.” “Now we haven’t had a Hitler to deal with for a while now, and like men have always done, we’ve fallen to our old ways. We are once again a nation of “I.” I want my rights. I want my way. I want to do whatever I darn well please thank you, and I don’t care what you, or God or anybody for that matter has to say about it. But, friend, my God and my morals are under attack just as sure as Pearl was and so are yours. And unless we come together, not as black men and women or white men and women, but simply as men and women all created in the image of God to fight the forces of evil which have the upper hand in this great nation of ours, it appears the United States of America will sink just as sure as did the Arizona.” “It’s high time that we stop letting the forces which rule the airways and the government tear at the fabric of our nation and at our God." “When they take prayer out of my school, they take it out of yours. When they say that the murder of infants is ok in my town, they say it is ok in yours. When they attack me and my beliefs, they attack you and yours and until we come together as one, to stand up to the evil forces that try to divide us, the destruction will continue. Until we can stand side by side as one, against the forces of selfish desire and immorality, such things will continue to flourish. Until we link hearts and minds and proclaim in one voice, ‘We have had enough,’ this great nation of ours will continue to decay until there is nothing left but the aftermath of evil.” For a moment, he looked a bit bewildered, then he shifted in his seat once more to relieve this part or that, and with tired eyes he stared out across the crowded Applebee’s and sighed a sigh of resignation with the shadow of fear and longing crossing his weatherworn face. That old man and I sat next to one another waiting on a table in Applebee’s way back in 1998. Twenty-two years ago. I had never met him before; but he asked me what I did for a living, and when the word “preacher” came out of my mouth, his bomb-bay doors opened and out came his story. I feel sure that he is long gone now, but the truth of his words remains. I don’t know about you, but I love this country. To quote Merle Haggard, “If you’re putting down my country, man, you’re walking on the fighting side of me.” You see, I have been blessed, as many of you have, to see a great deal of the rest of the world; and trust me, there is no place I would rather live than right here in the good old U.S. of A. It is truly the greatest nation to ever grace the planet, but we are in danger. As love of God and country is being and in many cases has been replaced with love of self, the decay has indeed continued. As we near the tipping point, it is time that we as brothers and sisters in Christ and fellow Americans, stand shoulder to shoulder against the forces that would destroy this wonderful country of ours. So, wear the red, white and blue proudly. Sing the anthem with enthusiasm and pride. Pray for our wonderful country and those who lead it, and do so in public. Let the world see that you are unashamedly Christian, and that you are proud of the nation in which you live. I am amazed when I think that simply writing these words of God and country will be considered radical by some; when to me they are just good old ordinary common sense: (A rare commodity these days). Love, Pastor Tony  Gilbert S.C. Peach Festival 2014  Niagara Falls - American Side
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 The best I can recall, it was about three thirty in the morning way back in the mid-nineteen sixties, and I was sitting on the cracked vinyl of an old bench across from my Grandpa Tharpe in a corner booth. We had settled into a little diner situated on the corner of 15th Street and whatever road it was that ran past Grant’s department store down to the ice house. Sunrise was still a little ways off so the fluorescents in the place blinded me a bit as we walked in, but the oscillating fans up on the wall made for adequate compensation. It was already getting hot; or rather it had never cooled down. It was, after all, July in Panama City, Florida and the sweat was already starting to pool on the vinyl up under my knees when the waitress came over to take our order. I was kinda new at this so I was watching Grandpa carefully so as to do it right. He grinned up at the waitress as she asked him, “Will the regular do this morning?” He said “Sure” as the waitress, Sally, or Judy or Jane by name, gave him a sweet smile in return and said “Coming up, Clayton.” I don’t think I have ever gone into a diner, or a Waffle House, or a Denny’s for that matter since that morning and not ordered “two over well, with grits and bacon,” for breakfast. I have also learned that Grandpa’s little grin goes a long way to making your stay much more pleasant while you’re there. Heck, it has worked for fifty five years, so why change? As most of you know my Grandpa was a milkman and this was nothing new to him, but to me it was brand new; and in spite of having to get up well before dawn, it was exciting to me. I was going to get to ride on the milk truck with him that day. Granny didn’t like the idea all that much, but Grandpa said I wouldn’t be too much trouble and besides he could use the help. I might let you in on the story of the ride next time, but for now let me tell you about my discovery at breakfast. As we sat down in the booth that morning, well actually as we were walking to the booth, I was amazed at how everybody seemed to know my Grandpa. Up until that time I knew him to be a quiet, introspective man, almost shy by nature. I had also simply assumed that he was my personal property; but from the moment we walked in and the waitress asked him if he wanted his regular order until the last bite was taken, people were laughing and talking to him, and he was laughing and talking back. Now what really surprised me that morning was the fact that they didn’t just know him, they all seemed to know me as well. It seems that my grandpa had been talking out of turn. They knew my name, how long I was going to be there and they had even heard about the big bass I had caught off of the dam down in Wewa the Wednesday before. For a child of nine or so, this was a revelation. My grandpa knew people outside the family, and they knew and seemed to love him and love me by association. Later that morning as we were in between calls, just riding in the truck, I finally screwed up the courage to ask Grandpa how he knew all those people. I was still amazed. It seemed to be so out of place and character to my young mind. He said he had just gotten to know them over the years. They all just seemed to land at the same place at the same time every morning, so they had become a little early morning family, he said. Then, with a bit of suspicion in my voice I asked him how they knew so much about me. He said, “Well, they were his friends and friends like to hear about other friend’s lives.” I didn’t fully understand, so I asked him again. He smiled his quiet smile and said, “They know about you because you are such a big part of my life.” I can still remember the feeling I felt that morning when I first heard those words. I was ten feet tall. To this day, when my strength begins to waver, I think back to that morning, all those years ago, to regain my strength. I think back to those loving words, spoken by a man I revered, and I reclaim my stature and carry on. When I started this little story, I had plans to use it to address some of the troubles we are going through at the moment. I wanted to bring comfort in the era of Covid19 and wisdom in the era of civil unrest. We preachers tend to bite off more than we can chew sometimes. Well, the Lord saw the error of my ways and gently reminded me that like most folks, my voice only carries so far. He also reminded me that just so far can be far enough if I remember just how important words of encouragement and love can be to those who hear them, especially when they fall on young ears. In time we will get past the current crop of crises. Life will settle back, and we will all be able to breathe once again. Your legacy and mine for this time may very well rest upon the words we have spoken or left unspoken. In years to come, those who surround you today may very well harken back to your words to find comfort and peace, strength and stature. When they look back, what will they find? Love, Pastor Tony.  |
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December 2024
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