At Board of Education, church-state fight grows
12:00 AM CDT on Saturday, May 15, 2010
By TERRENCE STUTZ / The Dallas Morning News tstutz@dallasnews.com
AUSTIN – A leading social conservative on the State Board of Education will push for further doubt to be cast on separation of church and state when the board goes back to work on proposed curriculum standards for social studies next week.
Board member Don McLeroy, R-College Station, has distributed several changes he will propose before board members take a final vote on the standards. The curriculum will dictate what is taught in classrooms and must be included in textbooks for U.S. history, government and other social studies courses in Texas schools.
The GOP-dominated board shot down an earlier attempt by Democrats to have high school students study the reasons the Founding Fathers barred the government from promoting any religion.
McLeroy now wants to include a requirement that eighth-grade history students study the issue from a different perspective.
Under his proposal, students would "contrast the Founders' intent relative to the wording of the First Amendment's Establishment Clause and Free Exercise Clause, with the popular term 'Separation of church and state.' "
The language reflects the opposition of social and religious conservatives to the legal doctrine of separation of church and state, which has been upheld multiple times by the U.S. Supreme Court, including one far-reaching decision that outlawed school-sponsored prayer.
McLeroy and other board members contend that separation of church and state was established in the law only by activist judges and not by the Constitution or Bill of Rights.
The Texas Freedom Network, which has battled with social conservative groups, accused McLeroy of "trying to rewrite history and promote political agendas in our kids' classrooms."
Another change sought by the Republican would require students to discuss alternatives to "long-term entitlements such as Social Security and Medicare" because of the decreasing ratio of workers to retirees.
"This is relevant to assessing the policies of the various ideologies that have shaped where we are as Americans," said McLeroy, who has joined with other members of his board bloc to put a more conservative slant on the social studies standards.
For example, high school students will have to learn specifically about leading conservative groups from the 1980s and 1990s in U.S. history, but not about identified liberal or minority rights groups.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
"THE ROOM" as written by a 17 Year Old Boy.
This is excellent and really gets you thinking about what will happen in Heaven.
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class.
The subject was What Heaven Was Like.
"I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. It's a killer. It's the bomb It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County.
Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life.
But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and BruceMoore realized that their son had described his view of heaven.
It makes such an impact that people want to share it. "You feel like you are there," Mr. Moore said. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole.
He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.The Moore's framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll seehim.Here is Brian's essay entitled:"THE ROOM"In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.
There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards.
I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system formy life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a senseof shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed At."Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled at My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than expected.Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I Have Watched," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me.One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards.But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.And then I saw it.
The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With."The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of thisroom.. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room.. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him.
All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive.The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back
He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door.There were still cards to be written."For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16
If you feel the same way, forward (copy and paste) it to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also.
My "People I Shared the Gospel With" file just got bigger, how about yours?
IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD, ITIS THIS ONE, PLEASE PASS THIS TO EVERY ONE YOU KNOW, CHRISTIAN OR NOT!"LET'S FILL OUR OWN FILE CARD" AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you did or not, but you will know and so will He.
This is excellent and really gets you thinking about what will happen in Heaven.
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class.
The subject was What Heaven Was Like.
"I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. It's a killer. It's the bomb It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County.
Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life.
But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and BruceMoore realized that their son had described his view of heaven.
It makes such an impact that people want to share it. "You feel like you are there," Mr. Moore said. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole.
He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.The Moore's framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll seehim.Here is Brian's essay entitled:"THE ROOM"In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.
There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards.
I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system formy life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a senseof shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I Have Betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed At."Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled at My Brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than expected.Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I Have Watched," I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me.One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards.But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.And then I saw it.
The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With."The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of thisroom.. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.
He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room.. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files.. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him.
All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive.The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back
He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door.There were still cards to be written."For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16
If you feel the same way, forward (copy and paste) it to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also.
My "People I Shared the Gospel With" file just got bigger, how about yours?
IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD, ITIS THIS ONE, PLEASE PASS THIS TO EVERY ONE YOU KNOW, CHRISTIAN OR NOT!"LET'S FILL OUR OWN FILE CARD" AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you did or not, but you will know and so will He.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
THE BODY OF CHRIST IS BROKEN, PART 2
THE BODY OF CHRIST IS BROKEN, PART 2
As a follow-up to the article "The Body of Christ is Broken," I tried to once again reach out to that pastor via email asking if we could get together and talk. That was a week ago. I have not received a response.
I honestly did not think he would but I was hopeful.
Whether he wants to admit it or not, the world is quickly moving towards total chaos and only a Complete Church can change things. Eventually it will happen. It's prophesied in the Bible. At the Second Coming, Jesus comes to take His Church. One Church. Nowhere in Revelations can we find Heaven divided by denominations.
Why can it not be that way now?
As a follow-up to the article "The Body of Christ is Broken," I tried to once again reach out to that pastor via email asking if we could get together and talk. That was a week ago. I have not received a response.
I honestly did not think he would but I was hopeful.
Whether he wants to admit it or not, the world is quickly moving towards total chaos and only a Complete Church can change things. Eventually it will happen. It's prophesied in the Bible. At the Second Coming, Jesus comes to take His Church. One Church. Nowhere in Revelations can we find Heaven divided by denominations.
Why can it not be that way now?
Friday, April 23, 2010
We have been trying to buy a house for almost two years now. For the most part, the process has been long and altogether painful. We are currently on home #3. Home #1 was going to be next door to my mom and dad's home. It was going to be built on the site of my grandparents' recently demolished home. That project fell through because the lender required city water and this site had a well. Home #2 was a home we found in Gibson County. After the seller accepted our offer and all was right with world, the lender said that our loan had been approved, but we could not buy the house we chose. The lender said the siding on the home would hurt the re-sale value. So now we are on home #3. After haggling with the sellers and finally getting an accepted offer, this deal is in danger of falling apart because my dad gave us a CD as a gift to help with the home if it was needed. Plus there are back taxes on the property that may push us over the debt/income ratio. Headaches galore...
Monday, March 22, 2010
The Body of Christ is Broken
The Body of Christ is Broken
A few months ago, my family and I were invited to church. A co-worker was inviting people from work and I didn't want her to get discouraged. I agreed to go and we did.
The church was from a different denomination than ours and that didn't bother me. I'm of the persuasion that Jesus is all that matters and the rest is just fodder to start arguments. Long story short, I went, I saw, I liked.
I walked away from the service feeling like there could be something more. I saw the opportunity for two churches from different denominations working together. What a radical concept! I was encouraged by the words of Jesus in John 17. He prayed that the Church would be one as He and God were one so that the world would know He loved us.
I called the pastor of that church not long after and he agreed to meet with me and talk. He was curious why I wanted to meet. I explained that the Body of Christ is broken by division. (He agreed.) I went on to say this should not be, that we, as Christians, should be able to reach out to the world together and not let theological differences keep us apart. (He agreed with that as well.)
We then discussed our differences and, interestingly, there was only one: we disagreed on the Biblical definition of tongues. His view: tongues are speaking in different languages. My view: tongues are a language we do not know nor understand because it is the language of the Holy Spirit. On this, we agreed to disagree but confirmed (again) it was not enough to keep us from working together.
We parted ways saying we had much to pray over and we would talk again. On the table was the possibility of our two churches minstering together over the summer two separate times: one time, they would come to our town and help us; and another time, we would go there and help them. We also discussed a joint worship service. I was excited.
I sent a follow-up email thanking him for his time and stated I was excited about the possibilities. He responded with a short "we'll talk soon." As of this writing, that pastor has not written me back. (it's been a month now) I checked facebook and the topic of his sermon this past Sunday was "Tongues: The Biblical Definition of this Misunderstood Gift." I believe I gave him a sermon idea.
What disappoints me most is that this pastor touted his church being different than the other churches of his denomination. When we arrived at the bottom line, however, he was not different at all.
The Bible speaks of those who "have a form of Godliness but deny its power." I met one of those people and he is a pastor, a shepherd leading his entire flock away from a beautiful thing and into a cage.
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