Our preacher started a new ‘sermon series’ Sunday, and it is a spiritual challenge for our church: SET THE EXAMPLE. His scripture came from I Timothy 4:12. “Don’t let anyone look down on you because of your youth, but set the example for believers in speech, in conduct, in love, and in faith and purity.”


Paul’s mentoring of Timothy, as a young pastor, I’m sure came from his life experiences. When I served on a ship In the Navy, I often would see posters on walls, bulkheads on ships… that warned about keeping a filter on a sailor’s mouth. The posters read, “Loose lips sink ships”.

These declarative statements were used during World War II, and they were directed at the deadly U-boats of Germany that sunk many ships loaded with valuable cargo for the war effort, including civilians.


James writes that the ‘tongue’ is an untamable item, and it is like a wild fire that can’t be contained. Though very small, it is equipped for evil only God’s knows and Satan cheers about.


As a lad growing up in a boy’s world I thought ‘salty language’ was my rite of passage into manhood, but, I chose seldom to curse; but I did curse enough not to be considered a ‘weirdo’. As a teenager and as a young man, I delved further into the art of profanity, as my Boatswain mate often called it, during my time in the Navy.


Though I demonstrated I had a talent for ‘salty’ language’, I never used God’s name in vain or Jesus Christ’s; but, I did slander everything else in the Profanity Dictionary. It was very sinful, and I deeply regret it. …”For the heart speaks what the heart is most full of.” Luke 6:45 James says the same things differently, when he ask the question. “Can a well bring forth fresh and salt water at the same time?”


Pilgrim, when did you stop using profanity? Oh! You haven’t! When will you? What will it take for you to stop?


I read about an uber pink socialist college professor that took state money for teaching a class about the value of profanity in one’s life. Its class title was something like…Profanity as a core value in history. The germ of its supposedly enlightenment was cursing allowed one to be free from traditional shackles that inhibit freedom of expression, venting of pent-up frustrations, and a smoother path to self-actualization.


Just walking through my local Walmart or stopping at my local service station for gas, makes me suspect the entire country has taken this professor’s class. Just when I’m positive our American culture can’t slide farther into the slime of public profanity, across both genders, Hollywood proves me wrong. Our youth and young adults lap up every morsel of this filth and beg for more.


In my boyhood days, swearing was always in the air…until a girl entered our area. Out of respect for the woman, seldom did a boy openly use profanity she could hear. Today, it is often the girl that has the loudest unfiltered ‘potty-mouth’.

What is it about the names of God and Jesus that man has decided they can profane them, without impunity that the world condones, seemingly without much embarrassment? Do we use the names to try and show the depth of our feelings? Several times I have ended up playing golf with men that are very profane, especially when they miss a short putt. Too often I just ‘suffered’ in silence; but, in my latter years I openly confront this assault upon God with phrases that ‘praise’ the Lord for good fortune while playing. Sometimes, I have suggested the man that can’t putt start sending up praises rather than curses. Perhaps, we profane God to openly demonstrate to him how disappointed we are with our outcomes. A few times, we may even use profanity to deflect the blame for our own ‘short-comings’.


If our national news would broadcast that your name had been chosen to be used for just one day as America’s favorite swear word, might the entire country change its attitude about slandering the holy names of the Creator and his son, Jesus,. For the next twenty-four hours, every time one chose to use profanity they’d shout out your name in frustrated anger…or just for the hell of it. Would you laugh it off? Would you try to just turn it out? Would you turn a bit paranoid when you allowed yourself to contemplate a profane people used you as a ‘curse’ word  a billion times in one day. That estimate may be on the short side. If you knew there was a ‘lotto’s’ chance that your name would be next, would you grow anxious? Would you lose sleep?


Many Pilgrims may be ready to announce: “It wouldn’t bother me one whit.” Oh really!


A high school Social Studies teacher made big waves a few years ago when she conducted a sociology class experiment that taught students and upset parents’ hard lessons about life in the fast lane. She asked her classes if they’d like to take part in a sociology studies experiment about human behavior under stress. They all thought it was a ‘cool’ idea, and all eagerly accepted the challenge. This was the formula: blue and green eyed children were segregated from the brown eyed ones. In the class room, they were forbidden to talk to the brown eyed children, Brown eyed children were given preference for seating, but it had to be segregated. The teacher often ignored the hands of the blue and green eyed students, but always chose the brown eyed students to speak and provide answers. Test scores indicated the brown eyed students received higher grades. The first couple of days all these changes were handled with a ‘grain of salt’ and the students enjoyed the challenge. By Friday, the end of the experiment, the brown eyed students displayed an obvious air of superiority. This attitude had even filtered out into the halls of the school, and these two types of students had begun to conduct divisive behavior. The blue and green eyed students began to display a lack of confidence. Disagreements were just one word away from a rumble.


The results of this experiment even surprised the teacher. It took several days of honest discussion to regain a normal class atmosphere, and for the students to acknowledge how their behavior mimicked the treatment they had been given, through no merit of their own. Pilgrims, what say you? Do you think it would affect you if the entire country used your name for just one day as their favorite swear word?


Since God’s Bible declares that using his name in vain bothers him, I think it would bother all Pilgrims if your name was inserted instead of Jesus’.


Then next time you swear, or are angry or mad enough to swear, shout your name loudly. The outcome may shock you. Oh yes, perhaps ‘little ones’ are not only watching…they are listening to every word you say.


While I never condone the use of foul language, one time I heard a story where foul language was used, and it seemed almost sublime. Friends of ours tell the story of their courtship and marriage with the details of his marriage proposal…actually it was her proposal. It was the second marriage for both. She told him: “If he didn’t marry her, he’d be the dumbest S.O.B. walking around on planet earth.” He told me that when this genteel, southern Tennessee, daughter of a preacher, gal sinned, he said that, he knew he had found the right woman to marry because she obviously was smart enough to recognize a S.O.B. when she saw one. They are both eighty, they have been happily married for nearly forty years.


Pilgrims, let us heed James’ words. “Above all my brothers, do not swear— not by heaven or by earth or by anything else. Let your “Yes’ be yes, and your “No,” no, or you will be condemned.” James 5:12


Doc Christian






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Pilgrims, Doc has lived at the foothills of the Smokey Mountains near Lake Cumberland for past thirteen years and has loved every minute of it. Its foliage is a dark green most of the year, except when the Creator gets busy with his artist brush and creates a landscape filled with a kaleidoscope of hues of colors only the Creator of the universe could imagine or paint, and sometimes he tops it off with a mountain of white that chills his people and gives us a sense of awe as we crunch our feet walking upon his carpet of newly fallen snow.


‘The Tomato man’ is what the folks in our area call the man. Our local newspaper, The Outlook) did an article on him several years ago, and I was able to learn more about him. We have bought his tomatoes since the first year we moved near Conley Bottom Marina.


Mr. Holcomb has served as our area noted ‘watchman’ for spring planting of tomatoes for over two decades. When he is in the field, all in our area know winter has finally loosened its grip, and warmer days are on the horizon. Recently, I was driving back from the grocery market and I spied him amongst last year’s Tomato Patch, kneeling as he worked diligently to prepare his field for this year’s tomato crop. I stopped my auto for several minutes and watched him on his knees. As I fixed my eyes upon him, it seemed as if his head was reverently bent, and he was in absolute serene meditation with his Lord and Maker (he is Deacon Emeritus at the Baptist Church up the road). I felt good about thinking he was just busy preparing his Tomato field, while carrying on a personal conversation with his God. My knees hurt just watching him on his, and I imagined his conversation contained a tiny bit of grousing, from a man ninety years old, concerning his aching, aging bones. I can’ help but believe his heart was filled with joy and thankfulness because he had survived one of the worst winter’s our ‘neck of the woods’ has seen in over a decade. I’d like to think he may have whistled a tune, or hummed one of his favorite hymns, while he went about his chores. He has a long, thick shock of silver white hair that he often sweeps back and away from his face. He has an easy laugh and a quick smile for all his customers.



Turning seventy-five this year, I’m quite familiar with the daily grind of accepting God’s lovely ‘parting-gifts’ that all elderly receive. I couldn’t help but wonder how in the world he managed to spend hours at a time on his knees and be able to get on his feet. I’m quite certain I’d need a masseuse and two helpers.


God’s Bible first mentions a husbandman in Genesis 4: 2 in reference to Adam’s two sons. Cain was a shepherd, and Able was a ‘tiller of the soil’. After the great flood, Genesis 9:20, Noah planted a vineyard…and got drunk. Jesus used his life experience, John 16:1-5, to teach about the necessity for a Gentiles (branches) to be grafted into the root of the vineyard plant if one expects to know the joy of Heaven.


The Hebrew word for husbandman has changed from its original meaning, a man of the house, a man who tills the soil, and today, people refer to a husbandman as a farmer.


When I was in high school, a buddy of mine was from a wealthy ranch and farm family. Before spending some time on their farm, I often thought it would be ‘cool’ to be a farmer. Allen, his name, lived in town during the school year and on the farm during the summers. I looked forward to his invitations to spend the weekend. My idyllic concept of ‘easy living’ crashed and burned the first time I saw his father stick his arm up a cows butt to help deliver a calf. He had Allen do it so he’d know how. I knew, right then, I was going to look for a different way to earn a living or become an Animal Vet.


Ross sells his tomatoes for a dollar a pound. He has a lock box that is bolted to his Picnic table that sets under an carport frame he uses for his tomatoes, and he operates on the ‘honor system’. Recently, I was returning from playing golf and all of his business trappings were gone, except his ‘Carport’ he used to protect him from the blazing sun or rain. My wife suggested I pay him a visit, (he lived up the road a piece), and check on him. He may have died or was in the hospital. At ninety, I was quite sure something health wise had happened to him. When I knocked on his door, he surprised me as he opened the door. He insisted I come in and ‘sit a ’spell’. He laughed when I inquired about his missing business paraphernalia at his ‘Tomato patch’. His wife, Jean, six months younger, came into the room. “He retired, she said.


“I didn’t intend to retire this early, but the deer closed me down,” he said. Twenty-four years I’ve been growing tomatoes and lack of rain and sun or too much of it, couldn’t get the job done, but the deer could,” he added. “Six-hundred tomato plants and they got them all,” he sighed.


“It was time he quit,” Jean said.


“I suppose I could shoot them, but it is a ‘birthing’ area for the fawns. I don’t have the heart to do that, so I retired,” he chuckled, then laughed.


Ross told me he worked in a factory for thirty years, then in construction for another fifteen, before he became God’s husbandman. He said he enjoyed everything God had given him to do, but, growing tomato was the most enjoyable.


I’m positive all Pilgrims haven’t been called to be ‘tillers of the soil’, but, Ross’s greatest achievement with his Tomato patch wasn’t his tomatoes, though they were the best I’ve ever eaten, and they sure added a delicious nutrition value to our summer meals, it was his connection with his customers. A few minutes with him kibitzing about ‘little or nothing’ while buying his ‘labor of love’, enriched our lives. Seldom did anyone leave his patch without a smile, a wave, and a promise to return, soon.


Pilgrims, you may not be aware of it, but, we all have a ‘Tomato Patch’. Regardless of how you use your talents and skills to earn a living, I want you to consider a biblical truth…you are a ‘tiller of God’s most treasured ‘soil’…humanity. You might be a ‘closet John Deer’ straw hat farmer. If you put the Bible in your hand, you are. He told us we are the ‘crown’ of his creation. Jesus gave all Pilgrims the challenge to ‘change the world’ and teach and baptize all NATIONS. From my perspective, Pilgrims in America aren’t too excited about fulfilling his mission. Our fear of being seen as a Religious bigot (Jesus is the only way to heaven) or to become ‘unpopular’ has kept us silent in the face of a godless people. Perhaps, it is too late because even our local newspaper is censoring my letters to the Editor. I wrote a letter to express my disenchantment with the recent Supreme Court ruling about Same-Sex Marriage, and they refused to print it.


Perhaps, God sent the deer to signal the ‘Tomato man’ it was time to retire. Who knows, he may have a larger ‘Tomato Patch’, in Heaven, for him to take care of. I can see the sign over the entrance to the patch: Ross Halcomb, God’s Husbandman, serves here.


Though we are besieged by God’s enemies, perhaps, surrounded, we still have our own ‘Tomato Patch’ to mind. Might we miss a step or two weeding because we have spent too little time on our knees? ‘The ‘Tomato man’ caught my attention that morning because he spent so much time on his knees. Might that be the place for all Pilgrims to start tending our patch?




Doc Christian





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     God’s marriage covenant is found in Genesis 2:24. “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh.” The Creators: God the Father, Jesus his only Son, and the Holy Spirit, declared, “God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number: fill the earth and subdue it.”

Woman: “Hurry, it says I’m ovulating. We must strike when the iron is hot,” she laughed

Man: ‘Okay, okay, but, I’m not a machine. I’ll be there in a minute,” he replied.

Womb talk: “Charlie, doesn’t, she know by now they hit the bull’s eye? God has already done his thing.”

Jim (his twin): “Evidently not! Hold on tight, it’s ‘rock and roll’ time, again.”

Charlie: “All that mushy ‘love talk’ nauseates me nearly as much as all that ‘up and down’.”

Jim: “Yep, they for sure must be ‘madly’ in love, and it looks like we have a permanent home for the next few months, my brother.”

Charlie laughs, “It is cute the way she always tries to get him to feel her stomach for a ‘kick’. I guess she doesn’t realize it is too early in the process,” he added.

Later, Jim is weeping. “Don’t cry, things will work out, you’ll see,” Charlie consoled his brother.

Jim: “I can’t help it. You heard her crying. You’d cry too if you read his ‘good bye’ note.”

Charlie: “Commitment, you’d think he asked her to cut off his weenie. You can mark that guy down as a ‘low-life’ coward.”

Jim: “She’s a woman of character. I’m positive she will take two aspirins and press on. She’s made of good stuff.”

Charlie; “Well, when we make our appearance, she’ll be proud. We can help her be the ‘worlds’ greatest mom.”

Jim: “Right you are brother. In fact, she has already taken necessary steps to ensure we are safe, and healthy. I heard her talking on her cell phone with a nice lady from a place called Planned Parenthood.”

Charlie: “Planned Parenthood… that must be a place where women go to make sure their babies, like us, are taken care of so the woman has a healthy birth experience.”

Jim: “Yeah, that must be right. Single women need wise counsel when they are pregnant.”

Charlie: “Yeah, especially when she isn’t married and her low-life man dumps her.”

Jim: “It probably doesn’t matter if she is married or single, and they probably are given wise counsel about how to give birth to healthy babies…like us.”

Charlie: “See, brother, we don’t have anything to worry about. She loves us and she will make sure we get an opportunity to live a long life. Jim, you are going to be a world renowned doctor, after all.”

Jim: “And, you can win a prize for helping to cure cancer,” he chuckled.

Charlie: “Hey, Jim, have you noticed, she is acting strange and weepy. I thought our trip to Planned Parenthood would cheer her up.”

Jim: “I’m sure it isn’t anything for us to get alarmed about. I think she is still ‘moon struck’ over that man.”

Charlie: “Well, I don’t know. Have you noticed, she doesn’t talk to us as much, and she hasn’t sung to us in days?”

Jim: “”She’s a woman! Need I say more? Our next appointment is tomorrow, she will feel better after we visit Planned Parenthood.”

Charlie and Jim are huddled and holding onto each other, shaking and crying.

Charlie: “Brother, did you hear all that loud noise, and those horrible screams that came from that one room where the doctor was?”

Jim: “It frightened me so much I had to just cover my ears.” It sounded as if somebody was being butchered.”

Charlie: “Yeah, it made a noise like when the woman runs the vacuum cleaner in the house.”

Jim: “I wish she wouldn’t do that. The noise scares me.”

Charlie: “That woman was nice, though. She hugged her before she left. ‘She said she was making a wise decision.”

Jim: “Charlie, did you hear those people talking about ‘body parts’?

Charlie: “I heard, but I couldn’t make much sense of it. I did get the part about selling them for money. I wonder what body they were talking about.”

Jim: “I don’t know, but, the lady at Planned Parenthood, pointed to our woman, as she was walking out the door, and said to another woman, ‘There goes a twofer.’ Charlie, do you know what that means?”

Charlie: “I don’t have a clue. I know we have a follow up appointment in a few days.”

Jim: “See Charlie, I told you the woman was going to take good care of us. And you questioned her motives concerning our lives.”

A few days later at Planned Parenthood:

Jim: “Charlie, these people are wearing ‘doctor’s clothes’. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Charlie: “Neither do I. Jim! Jim! Look out Jim! Watch that metal instrument, duck Jim, swim away. Searing Screams fill the womb. “Oh Jim, your poor head; you’re bleeding all over. God help us!”

A loud sucking noise fills the womb with terror for Charlie and Jim.

Charlie: “Oh Jim, your brains are gone!” Holding onto Jim’s body, “I got you brother. I’ll protect you. Moving down to make himself as small a possible, “You’ll not get me,” he roars in anger. He sees the same sharp instrument rapidly moving to plunge into his head, and he bobs from side to side.

Swiftly, the sharp instrument plunges into Charlie’s brain. His excruciating screams of horrific pain fill the womb and the air. The vacuum sucks up the tissue

The Planned Parenthood doctor sighs, “Now that is what we call a twofer.” Nurse attendants snicker and giggle.

Pilgrims, life happens in a DNA instant as soon as the sperm hits the egg. Life begins in that first second. All can deny it is true; but, no Pilgrim should. If you believe you were created rather than evolved from apes over billions of years, then, you must know abortion, as a choice, is murder. If you question when life begins, then you question if God can create. If you question when life begins, you also question whether God can create when he chooses. If you are befuddled and muddled about this question, you are in the enemy’s camp, and you question if God can create perfectly, in a blink of an eye.

Perhaps, Pilgrims have chosen abortion at some point in their life, and now regret it. What I want all to focus upon is that we are all flawed sinners…for a thousand different reasons. Repentance and forgiveness is what God is all about. Regardless of our past sins, even concerning abortion, we must not continue to walk in darkness. It is every Pilgrims duty to defend God’s plan for mankind, and to demonstrate to the world that we refuse to support those who differ with us about the time of conception for a life to begin. Science and DNA have dispelled any doubt about when life begins: at conception. God’s enemies know this is true, and they can’t use science as a prop to defend their demand for abortion because it is a fetus rather than a human being, any longer. Genesis 9:6 declares, “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; for in the image of God has God made man.”

What would Jesus do? I can’t speak for him, since this specific topic wasn’t addressed by him in the New Testament, but, all of his biblical teachings clearly show man’s use of the Golden Rule has its foundation in the truth: every person’s humanity to others will be measured by how well it chooses to defend those who can’t defend themselves. Can any Pilgrim think of another human that needs someone to defend them more than an unborn baby?

The Pro-choice voices would have Pilgrims believe Partial-birth abortion is humane and provides the best health choice for women. Satan knows this is a lie! Our country is now dealing with a racist political group: ‘Black Lives Matter’ (funded by the atheist/communist, Soros…i.e. Move On.org), as they march to stir up hatred between our law enforcement authorities, and the white race, Pilgrims need to be aware that of the nearly forty million abortions performed in the past forty years, seventy percent of them have been on black babies. Evidently, black lives matter only if radicals, the majority are black women) say they do. Remember, God punished the nation of Israel because they offered their first born to the false god, Moloch. It wasn’t out of love and devotion, but sheer fear. Pilgrims can’t profess fealty to a living God and remain on the fence about one’s support for abortion!

Doc Christian




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Matthew tells the story of Jesus’ encounter with the Roman Centurion and he walked away amazed by his faith. How differently might his conversation been if he had operated with America’s Pentagon directives about its warriors?

Jesus and the soldier meet in passing on the Apian Way. Jesus: “Good morning soldier, thank you for your service.”

Embarrassed, “Oh sir, it is I who should be thanking you for your service.”

Jesus: “Soldier, where is your sword, the one all warriors wear?”

Centurion: “Ever since our Senate has gotten ‘drunk on power’, and the Emperor has followed the leanings of the PC Police, we (America’s Pentagon’s wuse command officers) have declared all Recruitment Centers sword-free zones.”

Jesus: “But, how can a soldier defend his country and himself if he isn’t allowed to carry a weapon? What if the enemy decided to bring a frontal attack on its warriors, wouldn’t they be left helpless and at the mercy of the enemy? He stared at the Centurion, “Besides, you are a long ways from the Recruitment Center,” he added.

Centurion: “That is exactly the common sense point I tried to make to my superiors this morning.”

Jesus: “So, what was their reaction to your suggestion?”

Centurion: “I met you on the road; I’m back to beating the street again, without my sword. It’s part of my punishment for insubordination. I’m lucky I didn’t lose my command. At least that is what they told me. I fear my superiors have forgotten why the sword is necessary to defend our empire.”

Jesus: “I suppose the military command would be pleased to read a report from the Emperor’s Blabber newspaper about how officers and new recruits were slaughter at Recruitment Center because the enemy knew the soldiers weren’t allowed to carry weapons.

Centurion: “It has already happened!

Jesus: “You mean Barabbas and his band of cut-throats attacked Rome again?”

Centurion:  “No! This time it was those pesky Assyrians Huns that carried out a Jihad and killed a number of our soldiers. I knew you often traveled this road and I was hoping I’d run into you on the road this morning for my faithful servant and fellow warrior was attacked at the Recruitment Center. I have come to have you heal my servant.

Jesus glanced back to his disciple, John. “Can we fit twenty minutes into the schedule?” John nodded.

Centurion: “Oh no, you don’t need to come to my house to heal my servant, Just say the word and he will be healed. I’m positive those nasty sword cuts will just disappear the moment you say the word.

Jesus turned back to his disciples, spread his arms wide, and exclaimed. “My! In all of Jerusalem and Rome, I have never witnessed a faith so strong.”

Centurion: “I thank you; my servant really thanks you.”

Doc Christian is certain in the halls of Congress few fear the wrath of the Creator. Our Nation’s Capital is positive proof wisdom is missing in Washington D.C.: wisdom is always absent without a healthy fear of a living God. My prediction: as our military turns more feminist and PC, as America leads the way in ungodliness, God’s retribution will come in a swift and sure manner. Might it be possible his chosen weapon, Islam Terrorists, are already doing his bidding? Can any Pilgrim blame him for America has rejected the Creator’s love, spurned his wisdom…and mocked his only son: Jesus Christ.

Pilgrims, why do Christians continue to elect Congressional representatives that are avowed enemies of the Creator?

Doc Christian



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Pilgrims, Nancy (name for my mule) and I was traipsing up a steep hill out on a nearby dirt road when I heard cries for help. I thought it was odd because I had seen several people hurry by the ditch. I did notice they gave a quick gander, before moving on, so I thought the ditch was empty.


I snapped my riding-crop and gave Nancy a little sting on her large behind so she’d get the lead-out. Someone was in great distress. As I approached, I saw a nearly bald head peek up over the edge of the ditch. A hand appeared and waved me to ‘hurry-up’. The sight I saw made my stomach feel queasy: a nearly naked man, bloodied and scratches on his face and arms, looked into my eyes that seemed to whimper. He was trying to wear this ‘god-awful’ cloak that had holes in it and had been shredded some. With a mixture of blood and dirt, he was a ‘sight for sore eyes’…and not a hint of beauty in his appearance.


“Oh! You poor man, what happened to you?” I asked. “Who did this to you?”

He had a nasty gash on the top of his head, and he sort of stumbled as he reached for my hand.


“I’m Trump,” he mumbled.


“You’re in a dump. You said a mouthful man,” I replied.


His lip was swollen and when he spoke it was difficult to understand him. “I, I was costed,” he muttered loudly. Tears were in his eyes. “Please help me! I’ve money….lots of money. I’ll reward you,” he blurted.


I snickered at his remarks. He looked like a war refugee or an escapee from a place for the mentally disturbed. “You don’t look like a prosperous man,” I said. “Do you live nearby? Do you have any family you can stay with?”


His head had a few gouges and his hair looked like it had been cut with a Pinking shears: the ends stood up and had different lengths. He put his hand to his head. “My beautiful hair,’ he moaned. He looked at me,” I used to have beautiful hair.”


I rubbed my hand through my thinning hair, “I did too,” I replied. He looked at me; we laughed. I pulled him out of the ditch. “You’ll have to ride on Nancy,” I pointed to the mule.


“I…I will not,” he blurted. ‘That smelly old ass,” he added.


Nancy brayed loudly. “She’s not any more excited about carrying your big butt, either,” I said. “You are too injured to walk. If you want to find shelter and healing, you don’t have a choice.”


He let out an exasperated sigh. “But…but, I’m Donald Trump,” he nearly shouted. He grew woozy and had to set on the ground.


Laughing, “I don’t know who you are; but, you can tell a whopper, can’t you? Donald Trump…the billionaire,” I snickered. “That one gash in your head has really done some damage: you’ve lost your memory…perhaps, your mind. What were you doing in this place known as ‘The Den of thieves? Poor people live here; especially Latinos.”


“My GPS went on the fritz,” he said. “Take me to a hotel and I’ll prove it.”


“Do you have any identification?”


No. “They stole everything I had on me: Rolex watch, four carat diamond ‘pinkie ring, my wallet with my ‘walking-around’ money: ten thousand dollars, my gold cuff links, and my ten thousand dollar Armani suit,” he said.


I whistled loudly. “If they can sell all that stuff on the ‘black market’, their families will eat high on the hog for a year.” Looking intently at him, “no fooling… who are you?” I quizzed. Nancy will take us to the nearest motel and you can rest and get some healing.”


‘Yes, yes, please do. I’m Donald Trump. I’ll make it well worth your while. I’ll repay you a hundred fold for any expenses you may incur on my behalf.”


I glanced at this ‘rag-muffin’. “I don’t know who you are or who you think you are, but it certainly isn’t Donald Trump,” I said. “Up ahead, Tom has left the light on. We’ll get this all straightened out when we get there.”


Nancy was in one of her extreme stubborn moods and her pace was snail-like. To while away the time, he was riding and I was walking, I decided to humor him and treat him as if he was Donald Trump. I needed a good laugh.


“So Donald Trump is riding on my Nancy,” I said loudly, and laughed. “Mr. Trump,” I addressed him in an honorable manner. “I saw your Presidential Announcement a while back on TV. Your enthusiasm was contagious. I think the listeners liked the jib of your style. Perhaps, a bit bombastic; but, filled with wit and charisma. It reminded me of Old Teddy’s historic charge up San Juan Hill’s attitude. America, especially the lack-luster Republican Party, could use a full dose of his brand of politics.”


“If I have to say so myself, I thought I did a ‘bang-up’ job,” he added.


“I guess you never heard the wise political adage: ‘Walk softly, but carry a big stick,” I asked.


“Why? When you’re right…go for it,” he replied.


“The ‘Truth’ shall set you free?” I replied and stared at him.


“That’s right! If you could have written my speech, what would you have written differently?”


“I’m not sure I would have written anything differently. I’d just make sure your Public Relations people didn’t kiss your ring. In your billion dollars fiefdom you evidently failed to hire people that can recognize the Emperor has no clothes.  Your speech writer was a coward and he left you naked and exposed. If you wrote, it deserved a C. With all your money and access to technology, didn’t any of your ‘brain-trust’ think to video and critique you announcement? Those ‘off the cuff’ remarks about the Mexican illegals…certainly most it is true…but you learned too late you took a knife to a PC gun fight. Donald my son, America isn’t the same place you and I grew up as boys. Cultural Diversity has changed everything about the uniqueness of America…and it’s never going back.


Those T.V. networks and those big dollar clothing stores running for cover… from your ‘off the cuff’ unrehearsed remarks about the illegals, hit you in the gonads, didn’t they? Your beloved PGA and LPGA are tittering on the precipice of harming you and playing a stupid game of Russian-Roulette, supposedly to protect the honor of the game, by punishing you for being too Conservative to suit the media’s PC taste. My opinion, this type of decision making is going to be a political ‘train-wreck’ for the game of golf: Latinos don’t play golf; they play Soccer; and, you have provided great financial support for the LPGA, and the PGA has chosen some of your best golf courses to hold some of their most prestigious tournaments. Talk about climbing out on a limb and cutting it off behind you, the game of Golf, by caving in to the PC madness running amok in our country is about to commit Golf Hari Kari.


Your ‘high-dollar’ executives that form your ‘inner-circle’ aren’t visionaries, are they? They evidently can’t see a demographic that is a ‘run-away’ train’…all the way from Mexico. The Latino voters will rule the ballot box until Christ returns.


Old Doc, personally, as a biblical man, would like to vote for you. I think you are the type of Presidential Candidate the Conservative Party needs. I’m convinced you are the best equipped to stand toe to toe with a Socialist woman and readily point out her numerous flaws: integrity being the most glaring one. When you handle it properly, you have an abundance of charisma and the opponent’s couldn’t influence a person to get out of a house that was on fire.


Donald, none can deny you have a created a Public Relations nightmare. I think the Apostle Peter is the only man that might have competed with you for putting your big foot in your mouth when talking. The ‘good book’ instructs the Godly man to speak the truth…in love. You spoke the truth; but, you failed to show a little love to all those Mexicans that have helped you make your billions, right? I share your disgust with our Socialists government cronies who would be more comfortable with a Ballroom dance in Russia than a Country-hoedown in Tennessee; but, they love the criminal element: they even have Sanctuary Cities for them. I’d have advised you to provide the data to show just how much American Tax-payers have been forced to anti-up and to provide a tally for all benefits given to illegals…from all countries, in the past two decades. You might have won points with that ‘eye-opener’.”


His head drooped. “I should have you on my staff,” he said.


“You need someone with some brains that go back fifty years, not ones that have been trained on Apple,” I added.


He coughed, “Oh, my sides hurt when I laugh,” he said. “Tell me, what would you have me do now that I’ve ‘stepped in it’?


I looked at Nancy and she stopped in her tracks. “Get a haircut; get a new do, as the say. Your flamboyant hair blowing in the wind might make a few hearts titter; but you need to get smart. No Socialist is going to vote for you. Probably not any Latinos younger than thirty, either. Your support base will come from the forty-five and up voters. I say, few of them are overly concerned about how their hair blows in the wind. In fact, you may lose a few votes for it. Take heart though, history proves the ‘air-heads’: thirty and younger, make a lot of noise about the election and MTV and Hollywood elites do their political pandering, and you get slammed for being truthful and a Conservative…that is the bad news. The good news is that it also proves these people seldom actually bother to cast a vote, so you still have a chance to make history: be the first Billionaire to be elected as President.


You and your ‘brain-trust’ must recognize your goals need to be highly defined so they work on your behalf rather than against you. If you define a goal and then your God-given unique Personality, Decision Making, and behavior model is ignored, you end up crosswise and you sabotage the goal. You have to acknowledge you are an Ego-centered person. Your ego must be fed or goals don’t mean much. If the goal can be defined so it feeds your large ego needs, then the goal will be processed with excellence. If the goal fails to feed your ego, then you will blow up the goal. I’m sure you have Personality whizzes on your staff, allow them to guide you.


Here is my plan to do a ‘Redo’ for your campaign.  Take a page out of Obama’s playbook and use scripture to enhance your Presidential goal: Jesus said it was better to give rather than receive. Schedule a News Conference for Prime Time and invite all media. Spill the beans, truthfully about our country’s illegal Aliens problem. Offer your best solutions, but don’t present an idea that is pure visionary pulp fiction. You don’t have any political power to punish a country. Why not present a Workers Permit card for illegals so they can provide the labor our country needs during certain times of the year, but allows them to return home for periods of time to see family. Your opponents say we can’t build a wall for our borders. I guess they have never heard of the Great Wall of China.  Any program that works to improve the lives of the people that work and live in America would be helpful…right? Nearly the entire world uses the English language to conduct business…scans America. We continue to churn out Latino students that can’t write or spell, or speak English well. This unfortunately, applies to all students except the Orientals. Add a plank to your platform that American schools will only teach foreign languages: i.e. Spanish as a ‘second language’. Make it mandatory all tests are in English. It can’t be considered bigotry when the country is equipping the students to compete in the business world they will one day be forced to inherit.


Consider implementing a new Trump initiative that will spend millions: about the price of one or two of your gaudy courses where only one percent of the world’s population can afford to play, and provide funding for the refurbishing of America’s Munnies in the less affluent areas where kids can learn to play golf for reasonable fees. Since the game of Golf is no longer the game of choice by the youth of America, and especially the Latinos, build Soccer fields for kids to play on. In twenty years, Soccer will be the numero Uno sport in America! Why not prove you are a ‘visionary’ and get ahead of the curve?


Regardless of your ‘hoof in mouth’ disease, if people see you doing things that will vastly improve America’s future, they will mark the ballot: Donald Trump: for President.”


He rode on Nancy for a few minutes in silence. “Where’d you get your smarts, old man?” he asked me.



”Proverbs 27:17 declares,” ‘As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.’ “The prudent man encompasses himself with sharp, not dull blades. You need to get rid of your ‘Yes-men’ and surround yourself with men of absolute integrity who will hold you accountable,” I replied.


“Unfortunately,” I sighed, “I’ve had a front row seat to an unmitigated governmental fiasco for five decades that has left America searching for herself…while drowning in twenty trillion dollars of debts that have failed to appease the worlds tyrants, increase our allies support, and sadly, it helped grow a nation of sloth-heads that believe what you own isn’t your’s and they have a right to the fruits of your labor. When you debate, use some fancy charts that show how our government mishandles tax-payers dollars. Demonstrate what Income Redistribution really looks like to the Middle Class: it isn’t pretty.”


I gave the inn keeper my credentials and told him to put the charges on my card so this strange looking beggar would receive the help he needed. I told him he thought he was Donald Trump. He sniggered and stared at the pitiful sight standing in front of him.


“Should I call the police,” he asked. “He needs a doctor,” he added. I nodded.


“I’ll return in a week, and if his charges are more, then, I’ll pay the cost when I return,” I told the innkeeper.


“We will do what it takes to help the man get well,” he assured me. “By the time you return, he may recognize he isn’t really Donald Trump,” he added and laughed.


Doc Christian







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I recently saw a T.V. ad promoting a new season of Scared Straight: this is where wannabe juvenile gangbangers are taken to the ‘Big-house’ prison nearest to where they live and the inmates school them about the ‘resort-type’ living criminals experience locked up in cages. A vivid picture of their future unlocks a scream for help, and a number of the potential thugs, choose to move in a different direction: toward a successful life. Too bad, a little too late America has awoken from an attempted ‘Scared Straight’ campaign; but, it didn’t work

Our less than honorable, five blind Supreme Court Judges trashed our Constitution and again constructed law from their feeble minds as they legally redefined the definition of an honorable biblically established marriage by rejecting God’s bible and spiting upon his only son, Jesus Christ as savior of the world.

Unless you are a wannabe Pilgrim in ‘sheep’s clothing’, you are weeping with the Creator! How did this happen on professing Pilgrims watch?

For evil to triumph, it always takes skullduggery to accomplish the goal. In this case, two of the setting and voting judges had already performed same-sex marriages. Our jurisprudence system requires our legal system to allow the outcome to come from a level playing field: i.e. everyone must be Mirandized when arrested, or any information gathered is tainted and isn’t permitted to be used in court to convict. Any judge that has prejudicial or bias concerning the parties in court must recuse, so not to have a hint of wrongful conviction. Both of the women judges on the Supreme Court should have been told by the Chief Justice they couldn’t render a decision on Same-sex marriage because they publicly had proven to be an advocate for Same-sex marriage, and their choice had rendered them ineligible: they had shown they were bias against one party: the plaintiff opposing Same-sex marriage. So, now there isn’t a doubt our Supreme Court is corrupt! Isn’t it time we just acknowledge politics wags the dog, and have the judges chosen by election of the people…and they can serve or be rejected based upon how well they serve the people?

Who are the Atheists responsible for this latest spiritual debacle? The Atheist certainly don’t have ‘clean-hands’; but the responsible party are Pilgrims!

Perhaps it would do all Pilgrims a world of good to learn about the Frog and the Lilly pad so they will have a clear understanding of how professing Christians brought about this 5 to 4 biblical defeat by our nine political hacks masquerading as ‘non-partisan’ judges.

Once upon a time there was this giant Frog that pranced and preened around the universe showing his wares and telling all in the jungle: life is good; God is good. There were many enemies that didn’t agree with the Frog and voiced their distrust of the Frog and his particular ‘brand’ for a successful life. Filled with mostly quiet dissenters, the distractors were dismissed as Odd and were given no weight…or even cause a moment’s notice that might trigger an alarm about a growing powerful enemy that would one day replace the Frog.

What the Frog experienced; but, certainly didn’t understand its outcome: Cliff-Notes history of America post World War II

Soldiers came home after the war and reared nearly two generations of un-grateful brats that were reared in a family’s church of choice; but, left the church as young adults.  The Progressive, Socialists/Communists began their political campaign and managed to depict their enemies as demagogues and nearly deranged ‘Bible-thumpers’ (after the Berlin Wall came down and the archives from Communist Russia were revealed, it proved America should have expressed even greater fear from the Communist political agenda). The nineteen-sixties gave foment to these brats and the ‘God Is Dead’ movement commenced.  The Rock and Roll and Sex revolution lead this rebellious, anti-authority, anti-government parade. Its core value was bacchanal living, and fueled by the hatred of an undeclared war in North Vietnam, tore this county apart. The collective voice…at the ballot box by Pilgrims of all stripes: silence. God’s kingdom and its plethora of types of churches was too busy defending itself in courts as Pilgrims that believed the bible was inerrant had to win the ‘day in court’ to keep their church property and force those who believed the bible was a ‘nice story with good moral teachings to leave. In most cases, those who preferred the ‘nice story’ won in court.

In the late nineteen-sixties, five Jewish, by blood only, women changed the world by convincing women they didn’t need men to be fulfilled. They started with ‘combat boots’ and Unisex hair styles, men’s clothing and social habits: an adulterous life-style. They gained political allies, and later control of the political arena. Everything associated with the Creator’s bible they destroyed. All scriptures that provide wisdom and counsel about life, family, marriage, and children they ignored. They convince women…and men that God was a fool. They provided an Atheists’ plan that today has women championing the ‘skank-look’ and its accompany behavior. The bible was trashed as a guide for rearing children and now we can’t build prisons fast enough to handle the criminals Feminist women have reared.

LEST PILGRIM WOMEN think I blame only women for this debacle, it isn’t so. I blame the men for all of the Atheist outcomes! The cowardly behavior of America’s men is why we have a 5-to 4 loss! The failure of men to heed God’s word about spiritual leadership in marriage is why we have had marriage redefined. Men abdicated their biblical responsibility and remained silent while this godless agenda turned our world up-side down.

God hates the Feminist agenda! The Feminist hate God! God has never been against a woman using the full measure of her gifts and talents…in the business world, he just expects her to keep her biblical priorities straight: read Proverbs 31:10ff. It is obvious the woman was a smart ‘business woman’…but a better wife, mother, and a Godly woman.

The Frog was invincible and none dare challenge his authority. Still, many enemies continued to make that challenge. It seemed nothing could ever defeat the Frog. One day, his enemies concocted a plan so audacious and bold, at first those who wanted to see the ‘Frog dead, rejected the stupid plan. But, wiser heads won over the skeptics and the plan was implemented. They decided to just ‘lay low’ and accept their place in society. They were willing to take a step back in-order to one day take two steps forward and not ever take another sept back.

To show the Frog they didn’t mean him any harm they worked diligently to convince him he had nothing to fear from them. To show ‘good-faith’ they took up a collection and purchased him the world’s most expensive Lilly-pad and the largest Sauna (stone pot) for him to relax in after a hard day’s work of chasing and zapping flies. They showed him how they had included this genius invention where one could turn up the heat and make the water feel warm and toasty. It would be especially good for tired Frog’s legs after a grueling day of jumping after prey. In a short time, the Frog grew accustomed to his daily saunas and he began to spend more and more time on the Lilly-pad. His conniving enemies began to slowly turn-up the heat. The first time it happened, the Frog became alarmed, and stayed away from the Lilly-pad. After a while, he missed his pad and the way the warm water healed his aches and pains, so he began to spend more time on the pad. The enemy continued to turn up the heat. One day, he began to suffer pain in his legs and he began to cry loudly. He cried for help: no one came to rescue him. He struggled to find a way to extricate himself from the pot; but he was too weak. The enemy held a great feast: the meat served was Frog Legs!

If any Pilgrims have voted for a Socialist/liberal in the past forty years, your votes made the recent ruling about Same-Sex Marriage possible. Armed with the political clout needed, Atheists and quasi- Christians helped the enemies of God and his bible to appoint Socialists judges to powerful positions in the country’s judicial system. These enemies of America used this power to destroy its biblical foundation. Professing Christians continued to support political candidates that embolden and empowered the Atheists to diminish the bible’s influence upon its people. Professing to be a child of God, many Pilgrims proved you loved Satan more than the Creator as you provided financial support for candidates that may have professed to fly under the banner of Christ, but the party’s agenda wasn’t to support God’s biblical principles, and you chose to not ‘rock the boat’ or to get out of the boat.

My predictions: within five years…probably much sooner, the Christian’s voice of dissent will be censored in public…including media of all types; our government will strip the church’s Tax Exemption; preachers who preach the entire gospel that includes marriage and family truths, will be charged with a crime and will be put in prison; how far-fetched is it our government declares Marshall Law, and Christians finally decide to fight for their religious freedom: a military war ensues between Atheists and Christians…Christians lose…again.

The God of the Old Testament chose the Assyrian Huns to destroy the nation of Israel because they rejected him. Perhaps, this latest biblical defeat by the godless people of America is part of God’s plan to punish this nation’s professing Christians who have worshiped false idols…particularly in the Political realm, while proclaiming: My God, how great thou art. Whatever plans God has for America, one thing is certain: the faithful will be punished with the unfaithful…unless Jesus comes again.

When the Frog ruled the country, it demonstrated it knew the idea of our founding Fathers demanding our government operate with the modus operandi: the absolute separation of Church and State was a bald-face lie. Shame on all Pilgrims that have accepted this lying myth! If our entire life isn’t filtered through the prism of God’s holy bible, we are traitors and have proven ourselves unfaithful to the Kingdom of God’s work on earth. My opinion, Pilgrims have failed God at the ballot box more than any public place.

Pilgrims, each of you need to look in the mirror and seek the truth: are you now, and have you been in the past, part of the Solution or part of the Problem for why Atheist Judges redefined marriage. The enemy of God is celebrating! The Frog is dead, the Frog is dead! What are Pilgrims going to do about it?

Doc Christian




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The barber I go to is a ‘far-cry’ from the others I have had in my life. I remember the first time I had a shave and a hair-cut, after moving to Florida in 1972, by a ‘up-scale’ place in Castleberry (a new Jr. Executive housing area) and was shocked to see Playboy’s latest ‘Pin-up’ on the ceiling. I thought it was quite Avant garde; very pleasing to the eye, and risqué. Today, you can see more on Victoria’s ads.


My present barber, John, is a Christian man, he is a big old boy that could go bear hunting with a knife; but, he also sells and trades guns in his shop. He has a Display case filled with knives he sells and trades, and up-scale Fishing-lures he makes and some of his customers make and leave for him to sell or barter. He was guard at the County Jail before he made barbering his life’s work. My wife makes Christmas cookies for friends and he always gets a few.


“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, I will forgive their sin and heal their land.” II Chronicles 7:14


What is it about commitment that makes Pilgrims cringe? I know Atheists have decided commitment for marriage isn’t any longer a necessity, and their model is now  becoming the ‘First-choice’ in America…as bastard children are littering its landscape…and the Creator is weeping; but, in its essence, what is so challenging about one deciding to make a commitment…about anything?


I wonder how many times a week Pilgrims make a ‘silent’ commitment concerning their lives? I’m not going to lose my temper and swear; I’m not going to bring my job problems home; I’m not going to feel disgust when my kids want one more minute of my time; I’m going to shower my spouse with TLC…at least once a week; When I arrive home I’m going to pitch-in and help rather than seek ‘safe-harbor’ for my sanity; I’m going to be sensitive and cognizant the underwear on the floor is mine; the family will prepare for worship on Saturday night; and you can add a zillion other failed ‘commitments’.


Perhaps, Pilgrims fail to make commitments because we can’t stand the ugly trauma of knowing we are too weak (spirit is willing; the flesh is weak) to make a dent in a change we deem worthy of our concentrated efforts. If we try and fail, it reveals what we already know too well: desire wans when the prize moves farther away. You do know this is the very same thing that happens with our personal relationship with Christ…right? The question for all Pilgrims: when the relationship wans, who moved the goal?


How does a Pilgrim decide to make a commitment? On the spiritual side: a hunger to know more about the Creator and his only son, Jesus Christ. How can this happen? I suggest you commune with the Universe and dig deeper into the holy word of God; and a desire to use biblical knowledge in a way that you overcome your reticence to be a bold witness. On the flesh side: You’ve finally agreed that Satan has messed up your life: i.e. He wants you fleshy, flabby, and encased in fat, and your appearance remits tiny messages…about a thousand times a day, you are inadequate. The entire corporate world reinforces this outcome as billions of dollars are spent on advertising how one can be slim and more desirable. Our Nanny-gate government can legislate it is against the law to discriminate and will punish offenders, but it changes nothing about the absolute known qualifiers the ‘real world’ uses to function. Discipline is a word few truly understand its meaning. Jesus certainly did! Any commitment one makes will never get off the ‘Runway’ without discipline. Excellence in anything will never be produced without discipline. Encased in discipline is bogey-man items that scare the ‘you know what’ out of us. Truth rather than flattery, personal integrity rather than ‘feel-good’ Pablum, love of sweat rather than comfortable sloth,  embracing discomfort rather than chasing ease, and all Pilgrims can write a descriptive narrative to fit their own lack of discipline that would draw you nigh to Jesus.


John’s gospel, sixth chapter, records the D. I’s (Drill Instructor) talk to the recruits (Jesus talks ‘turkey’ to his disciples) about what is expected of them if they are going to be worthy of the Mission Charge. Most of the followers go A.W.O.L. and return home with their Dishonorable Discharge in hand. Even those who stayed questioned the necessity for the arduous task he gave them: “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations…”


John, the Barber, not the Disciple, told me he weighs just this side of a very large pig’s hind quarter: ( my description) two-forty-three. He has made a commitment to lose as much weight as he can before October first. The reason you ask? He has a much shorter and plumper client; he weighs two-hundred and seventy-three pounds, and each one bet that he could lose more weight before October: the loser has to shave his head. I haven’t seen his opponent; but, John has one of the largest heads God ever put on a man’s shoulders. I fear if he loses, his wife might have grounds for divorce: there must be an ‘Ugly man’s’ clause in those Marriage vows! I told John I would diligently search the Scriptures in case he lost the bet. My wife is interested in helping John: she is going to whip up a kettle of pickled Bees knees and take them to him.


Our little hamlet at the foot of the Smokey Mountains is suddenly becoming sophisticated: we are getting a Poppa John’s and a Little Caesar’s Pizza joints; and we have the new fancy, digital ad boards. Maybe our mayor has some new business venture up-his-sleeve and some gargantuan manufacture is coming to our area. This got me to thinking: If John losses the bet, I’m going to suggest John sell ad space on his shaved head.


John has put on his ‘Rocky’ shoes and persona. Hope he doesn’t get creamed by Apollo Creed’s commitment. This little Greek Tragedy that is being played-out reminds me that commitment is often easier to come-by if one’s embarrassment quotient is heightened. Perhaps, if Pilgrims considered their lack of commitment to Jesus an embarrassment, we’d see a lot more committed Pilgrims.


Doc Christian






Pilgrims, I made a trip to the barber shop to see John and try to have a moment of quiet prayer for his commitment, sorry to report his competitor reneged on the bet and it has been called off. I suggested John continue with the commitment. He said he didn’t need to lose weight! Pilgrims, there is a biblical lesson in this fiasco: Our commitment to Christ is often just as fickle




On a personal note, please pray for old Doc as my life is running full bore…and I’m aware at least two spark plugs are acting up. I have been having major back problems: MRI shows the end of my spine should be 14 MM; it is a 9…and that doesn’t leave much room for all those ‘tingly’ nerves and other things I don’t know a thing about, to work. I think my next doctor’s appointment is a Neurosurgeon. I have also been suffering unexplained spells that have given me great weakness, a sense of dizziness, and vision that sees white for a few seconds. I suffered my fourth spell in ten days, yesterday. I hurried to E.R. and they checked everything from a brain scan to finding delight is ‘playing Dracula’: the told me I’m in remarkably good health. This didn’t have an answer for my sudden ‘funny’ spells. I’ve lost 16 pounds since January; I haven’t varied five pounds since my basketball days in college. They suggested I seek the answer ‘down-south: Prostate and Colon check-up.


On a second front, I’m launching the publishing of two new books next month. Please pray for me that the Lord will lead my stories to new levels of success I haven’t known, and that the books biblical message will reach millions of people around the globe. If Pilgrims are interested in helping me reach this goal, you can read more on my website: www.ogradypublishingcompany.com . You can get signed copies from me; you can download from Kindle, or buy from Amazon. You also can use PayPal.


O’Grady Publishing Company

364 Eagle Creek Dr.

Monticello, Ky. 42633


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It has been thirty-three years since my Pop died. Different daily events often trigger reminisces of the phone call that signified my father had passed on to the other side of Jordan, and the emotional pain is refreshed and it will require a period of mourning before I’m nearly spiritually whole, again.


I have been a foolish man, often in my life, and that day was certainly one of my Red-letter days. While in Theology, Seminary, Graduate School, I tried to fit my golf game into my crazy-busy life: wife, two kids, and a Weekend Ministry. Looking back, I’m convinced I failed at all things.


My golf game, which was quite good, was suffering and I decided to have a golf lesson to get a ‘fix’. That fateful morning, I met the pro and in a few minutes, he gave up: said he couldn’t teach a Warlock. His problem was he couldn’t teach!


Licking my wounds, I rushed in the front door to answer the phone: in an instant, God gave me a ‘reality-check’. My father was dead.


Come July I’ll be seventy-five; three more years than my Pop lived. In reflection, I now know that the worst residue from his death was the boy in me died. I know I wasn’t ready for this to happen. I say a boy; but, I was forty-two. That day I was forced to become a man. As long as a man’s father is alive, he gets to be a boy! For me, being a boy, having a father like mine was God’s greatest earthly gift, next to my wife of fifty-two years.


Pilgrims, what does any boy really know about his dad? Unless he is famous, perhaps, just locally, or a business Tycoon, he knows only what is evident. I now believe it is a mystery one has to unravel as the boy grows into a man. If the father is absent, the boy never really learns anything about his father.


For thousands of years the biblical model has been given to all fathers, and it is found in Deuteronomy six. The father is told he is to teach his children about God every day. His love for him must be evident, like the process of osmosis, in his daily walk. The neighbors should know he worships the Creator. My Pop drove a Mule (Fork-lift) and operated a huge Crane for a living…yet he didn’t ever have a Driver’s license. I never actually saw him write anything but his name on a check. Townsfolk came to watch ‘Pete’ (his nickname) hit a baseball a ‘Country-mile. At the age of sixty-five he could still kick the light bulb out on the ceiling. He played the ‘Spoons’ to entertain his kids. My Pop could crush soda pop lids with two fingers; I once saw him hang a large man on a hook wearing Overalls where he worked, the Roundhouse for the Rock Island Railroad, when he tired of his obnoxious man’s needling. He coached my Little League Baseball team, He was a ‘Man’s man’, but he insisted all of his kids kiss him on the mouth when showing proper respect and affection. He never talked much about his father, a Conductor on the railroad that died when he was fifteen, and he was forced to quit school and get a job to help feed the family of ten children, so I don’t know why he came to this choice. Perhaps, his father modeled this method of rearing children; or perhaps, his father’s method was lacking of any real affection and he was determined to do things differently and far better. He heeded the instructions from Deuteronomy!


Ironically, I kissed my mother, with rare occasions, always on the cheek. We kids always greeted or said good-bye with a kiss for both parents. A kiss on the cheek for mom, a kiss on the lips for Pop didn’t feel or seem strange to me.


I was blessed by God to be reared at a time in our country’s history before Atheist, godless people changed nearly everything good thing about America. Young boys held hands in public, seldom did anyone use the word ‘Queer’…and I never heard the word ‘homosexual’ in public until I was in high school.


During my Elementary School days, genuine affection between boys was just something all accepted without snide remarks challenging manhood. I know how naïve I was; this ignorance was sheer bliss.


My father’s kiss was much more than a kiss. I realized later it was for biblical Fatherly Respect he needed and we needed to be able to maintain a father/ child relationship that was filled with love and devotion. It was his public expression that a kiss for him left him feeling wonderful about his willingness to love and sacrifice for his family, on a daily basis.


For me, his kiss was like a warm light being turned on inside me as I was given an assurance my father loved me. Even after disciplining his kids: he believed in God’s Woodshed, he insisted we kids kiss him good night. There were nights I found this repugnant; but kissed him. If we kissed him in the evening, he smelled of Old Spice. I still like that fragrance.


When I had my own kids: two sons, I followed this kiss tradition; I confess, by the time they were teens, we seemed to find it more awkward than purposefully driven. We see each other so infrequently, and we do kiss, it seems too contrived to have ever shared the blessings my Father’s kiss empowered me as a boy to be a man. As Pogo said well, “The fault lies not in the stars, but in us,” summed up where the blame lies in my sons and my relationship…only the blame is mine, alone.


I think in this dark sinful world filled with the celebration of all things Queer, Gay, Lesbian, and Homosexual, and all of its cultural baggage one can’t avoid or escape, too many fathers and sons/daughters will be too hyper sensitive to the overt or covert fall out from a Father’s Kiss to insist it be their biblical model.


I’m not sure my Pop understood the power his kiss possessed; or if he was wise enough to sort out the biblical and psychological implications its outcome produced; we never discussed it.









Like the wind sweeping down an Oklahoma plain full of power, fury, and grace,

he stood Oak-tree-tall, bronzed from the hot sun, and silent strength caressed

his face.


Gazing up at him, his shock of coal-like hair met my eyes as he lifted me up as if

I had suddenly been set free.


His easy smile sent security through my frame as the measure of a teen-to-be gained

comfort in his future masculinity, though mirrored in a reflective genetic pond

to see.


Flattery as a watch-word when the reflection came back, chaffing to see the imitator

of the man I longed to be.


Sod covered foot-prints and a place that time has lost, breathless and gone, except

in my heart.


Completing the circle in another time and place is another Oak-like tree.


From a Ms. not yet published: Letters from Papa



Doc Christian





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It seems odd that a minister that provided Biblical Counseling for four decades for troubled marriages, families, and complete strangers that blew into my life, unexpectedly, endured internal family strife that seemingly hasn’t an end (not my marriage), and still remains clueless about a biblical principle: all families have Cracked Foundations.


Regardless if Pilgrims sit on a pile of money that would make Scrooge envious, have a security-gated home, or live on some exotic island, none will escape the constant pressure of sin’s consequences upon the family’s home until it is cracked.


From God’s call to Abraham to leave Haran and travel to Canaan, at age seventy-five, to begin a great spiritual journey where God promised to bless him and build a nation of people suited for God’s desires, it took only a short while to prove to his family and total strangers: Egyptians, as he feared for his life because his wife, Sarai (Sarah) was beautiful, so he told her to lie and tell them she was his sister, his family’s Cracked Foundation appeared.


A few years ago we purchased an old Bedford Stone mansion and turned it into a Marriage Retreat Bed and Breakfast. As an investment, it was a foolish thing; as a Spiritual investment to help couples fall deeply in love with Jesus and for their marriage relationship to be biblically enhanced, it paid wonderful dividends.


After sinking too much renovation money into this financial Titanic refurbishing the inside, we discovered our Front Porch’s foundation was failing and had many foundation cracks. To my chagrin, it had to be fixed. Do you know there are companies that specialize in restoring Cracked Foundations?  When the job was finished, unless one knew we had a Cracked Foundation, the naked eye couldn’t detect it. It took an expert to fix my foundation.


Their son got into some minor trouble at school and he was given ‘Detention’ and after school punishment. He was “grounded’ by parents. The following weekend he shot himself. He was molested as a child; shared the information with his parents, at nineteen; he rears his children with a ‘Compound-mentality’. She gave a ‘personal-witness’ testimony for a Women’s Luncheon of the sorry state of her marriage…until they had a ‘house-invasion’: she was raped; her husband nearly beaten to death. They discovered how important each one was to one another. This terrible event rekindled love and devotion and they recommitted their marriage to Christ. Son born with a ‘golden-spoon’ in mouth, marries and soon, wife is pregnant. After two Mayo Clinic visits, discovers he has Lyme disease: he can’t ever live a normal life again and it changes Grandparents retirement plans for they become ‘care –takers’ for child and son. Youth Minister molests Minister’s two youngest sons: youngest one never lives a normal Life. He marries and is divorced in a year; never marries again. He lives an ‘isolated-type’ of life. Her parents’ marriage is so dysfunctional she moves out of house as a teenager: she marries and harms all in her life that she can’t absolutely control; at ninety-five she remarries, her children discover she never loved their father like she loves this old man. She is like a giddy school girl; never saw this with their father; she wasn’t affectionate towards him; and last, but not the least…a teenage girl cuts herself and marks her body with profanity to punish those she thinks owe her big-time…for trying to love her.




Every Friday night I preach a message to a room full of criminals who have a collective profile that includes sexual abuse; physical abuse; evil parents, and a hostile environment for success. These men know they are broken inside. I believe they come to worship because they are desperate to find that magic elixir that will miraculously fix what is broken.


Sari (means bitter) forced concubine, Hagar, upon her husband; she gives birth to son; Sari remains barren. Abraham abandons the concubine and son, whom he loved (Esau is half-breed Muslim race) i Rebecca lies for her son Jacob and he steals Esau’s inheritance and blessing. Joseph’s brothers sell him into slavery; tell their father he is dead. Moses brother Aaron betrays him for Golden Calf. David steals Bathsheba; has her husband murdered. And, who could forget Jezebel and Ahab stealing poor Naboth’s vineyard to prove she could. And many people say the bible is a boring book!


Old Doc has lived amongst those who pay others to go to the ‘Wailing wall’ for them; and has sat in sackcloth and ashes’ too often and too long for him not to finally understand a salient biblical truth: there aren’t any prefect families; all have Cracked Foundations. Some families are able to hide this imperfection better than others…for a time. Like every foundation that possesses cracks in the foundation, sooner or later, it is going to collapse. Sometimes, sin isn’t the progenitor of an outcome; it is just happenstance: being at the wrong place at the right time where you suffer unfairly: accidents that maim or kill. Just last week we had a family of six killed because of another driver’s stupidity.


Births, weddings, and funerals expose the rancid underbelly fueled by anger, malice, hatred, jealousy and a plethora of things all Pilgrims can conjure up, as mixer-events that force all to admit the family has a cracked foundation; it spills out into the public streets. In the majority of cases none care to see the foundation repaired. “Burn the house down and let the foundation stand as a memorial for how the cracked foundation left us miserable, ashamed, and forced to deal with the consequences of sin that changed a house from a place for a family into a place to forget.,” can be an apt epitaph..


Isn’t the world blessed; Jesus shows up in his ‘Hard-hat’, carrying a cement trowel, wearing the latest Levi Jeans: designer holes in the knees, Oakley Sunglasses, and just for the summer, a shaved head like Mr. Clean, a Gideon (New Testament and/the book of Psalms) stuffed in his back pocket, and announces: “Come unto me all you who are heavy laden and I’ll give you rest.”

I can see you built your house on a foundation of sand rather than rock: not good! What were you thinking?


The one thing I want all Pilgrims to focus upon is that these miserable biblical failures, and most are those we Pilgrims consider God’s favored heroes, still were used by the Creator to accomplish amazing things for his Kingdom and for man’s history. Flawed as they were, God evidently didn’t concentrate upon how they had failed, only upon the spiritual work that lay before them to complete his plans.


Pilgrims, this means you can ‘crawl out of a bottle or your personal favorite type of drug and stop living stoned; you can put away your sack cloth and draw nigh to God and begin to equip yourself for the new mission God is going to send your way. You can forgive your first spouse and even yourself, and begin to make amends for your sin and sloth regarding your sorry past life; You can reconcile your heart that you can’t control anyone, and you can begin to live beyond your ‘self-loathing’ for your perceptions of failing at the job of Mother or Father concerning your adult children because they remain estranged; finally, as an adult child, you can let the disappointment of not ‘meeting parental  expectations’ flow out of your heart and mind, and concentrate upon building a closer relationship with Christ. The cracks in your foundation (circumstances of life) can’t limit your spiritual horizon; only you can do that. Just think…Christ turns all ‘ugly ducklings’ into beautiful swans.


My opinion, our once great biblical country has its Cracked Foundation showing its fatal flaws. Despite all efforts by Pilgrims, its pitiful condition is exposed daily. Every known ‘Expert’ and voodoo type of magic elixir has been tried to shore it up sans a biblical solution: Jesus’s blood sacrifice stands at the ‘ready’; yet, few are wise enough to choose the correct Foundation Contractor.


Whom do you call when you notice you have a Cracked Foundation?


Doc Christian





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The teenage girl came out of the bathroom with a big smile on her face. Blood streamed down from both arms from the sharp end of shower curtain rod that she had used to ‘cut’ herself, once again. “Ain’t I pretty?” she announced disdainfully to her counselors.

Though family, friends, and professional counselors have sought nearly every means possible to keep this girl from ‘cutting’ herself; writing profanity, with cuts, on her thighs, she has defied every attempt to help her find peace in a world of self-inflicted violence.

My prediction, unless she allows the love of Christ to heal her, she won’t see her sixteenth birthday. From the spiritual event filled with the light of Christ at her baptism a few years ago, she has steadily chosen to seek the ‘dark’ things of this world. It is true, her parents are worthless and their ‘parent’ card should have never been allowed to be punched, and it has left her angry and searching for answers why she was abandoned, but, she is loved; she was taken in and given a good home. She was spoiled rotten and does live an affluent life-style from the blessings those people in her life provide for her; but she has chosen to dwell on those things she doesn’t have verses all the blessings she does possess. If she had been left on the street, forced into Foster homes, and forced to live ‘hand to mouth’, her choices of self-degradation and physical harm might hold a bit of logic; but, none of those things have happened to her. Her steady streams of lies and false accusations about events, even sexual abuse have altered her relationships with those trying to save her. There are many other events that sadden all, but, I’ll not detail them. The pertinent question: Why?

She, like many Pilgrims have failed to respect Satan. This may sound blasphemous and biblically incorrect; but, believe me, it is one of the consistent mistakes all Pilgrims make as they experience their lives spin out of control and crash and burn at the feet of Satan.

The Apostle Peter directs our attention to how a Pilgrim should conduct a relationship with Satan:

“Be self-controlled ( sober) and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings. I Peter 5:8-9

All Pilgrims are enemies of Satan! Satan is God’s enemy. It might behoove all Pilgrims to be acutely cognizant that Satan desires to destroy our lives. His one mission is to leave us with a sense of failure and disappointment with who we are. If he can succeed, his ‘roaring’ and ‘prowling’ will become capture and eating us alive. Remember, God does not tempt, Satan tempts; but, he can’t devour unless we choose to fall before the ‘enticements’ and choose to sin. James 1:13-15

Now, back to the teenager’s story: when she chose to leave one home to move to another relative’s home, where all thought it would be more accommodating for her, present and in the future, she ran into the reality of life: she had to find a way to fit in with her peers and earn a new positon based upon who she was; and whom she wanted to become. She had to work her way past the ‘new girl’ in school. Evidently, she found this troubling and nearly insurmountable; she opted for those who welcome the ‘misfits’: Goths to start with. Take warning! Any Pilgrim parent who has a teenager that drifts into this disturbed group’s life-style, you are in for a nightmare. Its roots are in the Occult domain; next-door to Satan’s. Its focus is upon the ‘light’ one can find from darkness: it champions and nearly glorifies depression. The pain of emotional suffering, as a ‘collective’ group, empowers the relationship outcome. Their need for black, especially in dress, is a direct correlation to worship Satanic concepts. Its core value is derived from a separation from that which is normal. Seldom does a Goth fail to finally enter into the abyss of Hell’s beckoning: disfigure one’s self to ‘stand-out’ amongst Goth peers. Cutting one’s flesh to demonstrate the depth of suffering one is willing to endure gains ‘street crede’. Each cut is designed to inflict pain and suffering upon those whom they blame for the trauma in their lives. By cutting their own skin, often it ends up as a type of Goth ‘folk art’, provides them with a ‘sick’ type of psychological empowerment. The coup de grace arrives when the utter horror is seen by their loved ones as they are nearly powerless to prevent its intended outcomes.

Beware of those who want to pooh-hoo this fall from grace as a temporary ‘teenage-fad’, the teen seldom escapes with Black clothes spiritually un-burned. If they do make it out, its demonic imprint is only washed-out by the blood of Christ.

While the Heathens of this world fluctuates from dismissing the idea of evil, Satan and demonic worship and possession, or acknowledges Satan is responsible for every mistake and misdeed; “The Devil made me do it”; and is assigned a ‘playful’ place of spooks and hobgoblins freshly minted each Halloween, Pilgrims need to know Satan isn’t one to trifle with since his mission in your life is to break, steal, and destroy you.

Like any adversary, he needs to be respected. You should hate everything about him, but you should never disrespect him. If and when you do, it will be at your peril. How will he do this?

My opinion, he will catch you ‘cat-napping’: you only have one eye on your ‘spiritual fires’. For married couples, it may come from a shapely set of gams and the enchanting smell of strange perfume…or a ready hanky and the strong shoulder of ‘understanding’. It may arrive as a ‘life-ring’ in the midst of a storm you are certain you won’t survive. Perhaps, ‘Southern-comfort’ or some other exotic type of drug will dull the inexcusable failures of your perceived reality, whether they are lies or stone-cold truth.

Satan’s roar is just that; but, he is wily and a master illusionist. The sound can disrupt all in your life. Spiritual intentions run off into a ‘dead-end’. Staying connected to the King’s spiritual power reservoir: Holy Word, is sluffed off and your neglect drifts into many phases of your life’s journey: spouse, kids, job, etc.

It just takes a tiny slip that demonstrates your disappointment with God; and your evident discouragement, for the Devil to pounce. Even if you are 100% FDA inspected, he won’t take a ‘taste’; and if you are Christ’s favorite food: found to be 100% spiritually inspected, you will be too tough for Satan to eat.

Pilgrims, as long as you are alive, you will hear Satan’s roar. If you are dressed for the battles and the war, Satan, will move on to easier prey. How is this possible? Paraphrasing Paul, “You don’t take a knife to a gun fight.” Pilgrims must go to war wearing the proper armament to survive its bloody outcome. In Ephesians six, Paul tells us what to wear: a shield of Faith (should be of iron and your’s is Paper Mache); a helmet of Salvation (he delights in smashing your gourd-head each time you forget to filter Satan’s knowledge from God’s); a sword of the Spirit (and you show up with Darth Vader’s); loins girt with Truth (and you show up wearing a Jock Strap without a cup); a breastplate of Righteousness (your breastplate needs ‘Stop-Leak’); and feet shod with Peace (your warts and bunions demonstrate the tune of anger and malice you march to).. The teenage girl came to do battle with a Goth ‘peashooter’. Too many Pilgrims arrive without any spiritual arrows in their quiver for they compromised their accuracy by walking, not by faith but by sight (David used a Slingshot; you demand a tank battalion)

Kataaptidzo! Cart art tidzo (computer doesn’t make all of the correct Greek alphabet letters, so I improvised) is the word Peter used as a personal reflection of his own life, for it refers to something broken that is mended so it can be useful, again. Satan had had his way with Peter for he failed to be loyal to Jesus…three times; but, Jesus restored him and even gave him a greater ministry. The word means the same thing for a number of different usages: mend fishing nets; to set a broken bone, to find perfection amongst imperfection, and to move from little value to great value: i.e. a broken vase to a mended one that seems brand new. Pilgrim, what is it in your life that is broken because Satan has been messing in your life? You can’t find anything in this world that can mend it except the love of Christ. He holds the power to heal and make new. It is possible nothing you can do can change the outcome because it isn’t dependent upon what spiritual choices you choose; but, you can still discover healing…for yourself. It may be the best offer you will ever receive: when asked, forgive; give forgiveness where none is due.

Misery loves company! It is a ditty I have heard since I was a boy. Peter announces that all brethren are suffering for the faith. I guess that means we should all suffer for the same reason. Does it also mean if we aren’t suffering; we have become a slave to serve Satan while rejecting the idea of being a slave for Christ?

The teenage girl never knew her lot in life as a young Christian was to suffer. Do Pilgrims? My opinion, she never seriously considered Satan could harm her. She never entertained the idea she would cower at the first sign of a test for why she chose Jesus as her savior: her peer review was on parade and the self-image reflection she saw was too ugly in the light of what godless people considered beautiful; ergo, she doffed her ‘Robe of Righteousness’ and fled spiritually naked into the promised ‘feel-good’ darkness.

Pilgrim, how many times, how often have you emulated this biblically immature girl? One of the blessing of old age is I have lost much of my memory about by earlier failures. My problem, each Sunday the preacher trots them out, afresh, as he preaches a message from God’s word, and I stagger out of worship reeling as if I’ve been hit with a ten pound spiritual sledgehammer (by the way, this is how I measure the effectiveness of the message…how about you?)

The teenage girl, like Esau, traded her inherited birthright for a pot of porridge. I fear those who are trying to rescue her are muddled in a haze of mystic heathenism mixed with a dash of biblical salt (it makes the stinking stuff go down easier), and all biblical absolutes are being avoided at all cost so not to upset her too much. When the experiment fails, the girl will spend the rest of her life listening to the roar.

One more thing: Pilgrim women, never forget…Satan wants you fat! Why? God gave men an hour-glass shaped mind.

Pilgrims, I urge you to hate Satan as much as God and I do. I implore you to Respect him as much as I do.

Doc Christian



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