by Greg | Mar 19, 2014 | Blog Posts
I dream’d in a dream I saw a city invincible, to the attacks of the whole of the rest of the earth, I dream’d that was the new city of Friends. I keep a copy of Whitman’s Leaves of Grass on the end table by my reading chair. I read snatches of his lines in the early morning before digging into whatever book I am working through at the time. There is just something about those 19th century American Romantics that have me returning to their waters time and again to drink. You have heard me cite the following quote by Henry David Thoreau – another American Romantic – before, but it is worth repeating: I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately; to front only the essentials in life and see what it had to teach me. And not, when I came to die, discover that I had never lived. Those few words make me want to grab my walking stick parked in a corner in our house and head out to the wooded hills with my wife in hand to see what there is to see. The words of Whitman and Thoreau have lasted so long because they speak to the heart of the human condition – the desire to live faithfully and deliberately. It is also a reminder of the importance of abiding together. It is part of the church’s responsibility to bear upon our consciences that God created us to live not in isolation but in community, and to do so with a holy intentionality. So many – too many – trudge...
by Greg | Mar 12, 2014 | Blog Posts
It took four weeks of intermittent, hard labor but I have taken care of a stump in our front yard…mostly. It all started with the ice storm – ICE2K14, or icepocalypse, or whatever you want to call that event one month ago. We had several trees come down during the storm including one right in front of the house. It was one of those tall yellow pines that bless our community with its electric-yellow dusty pollen every year. Unlike all of the other trees that fell on and around our place, this one fell right at the roots, creating a modest size root ball of Georgia red clay and knotted, spidery roots still clenching to the earth from which it came. As of last night I finally dug, clawed and hacked my way down the hole to sever the remaining roots including the infamous tap root. When I emerged from the hole gripping the tap root I looked as though I had just caught an 80 pound channel cat. This stump is only about 24 inches in diameter but the hole I dug to get to it is about 20 feet deep. Well, maybe not twenty feet, but it was deep. Combined with the depth of the hole and the weight of the now severed stump I am looking for back up (two young men who happen to share my last name as well as part of my DNA) to help me lift the tangled mass of pine and mud out. I plan to keep my day job if you good folks will permit. Preaching is much easier. Of...
by Greg | Mar 4, 2014 | Blog Posts
I love the rich breadth of Christianity, which means I am open to “new” ways of experiencing community with fellow believers. Observing Ash Wednesday (this year it is on March 5) is an old practice for believers around the world but fairly new to most Baptists. For the last several years we have held an Ash Wednesday service and the have been some of the most memorable and poignant services of the year. In fact, the ashes we use are compliments of our sister congregation, The Church of the Good Shepherd. The first year we hosted the Ash Wednesday service the thoughtful chair of the altar guild offered to give me a can of ashes, saving me the trouble of burning, sifting and mixing the ash mixture. She had the prepared ashes waiting for me at their church. When I arrived to pick up the can (formally cashews, which I am sure was a surprise for anybody reaching in for a few nuts). On the lid of the can was written: Ashes – Greg DeLoach (he is not in here). This is an important disclaimer of which I am happy to confirm. Yet is this not what Ash Wednesday is about? – a time to reflect on our own mortality as well as repentance. Philosophers have long exclaimed that the way to prepare for life is to contemplate death. Morbid? I don’t think so. Often Jesus spoke of the need to release one’s life (which is in itself an enormous act of faith) in order to gain it (Matthew 10:7; 16:25). Furthermore Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Jesus’...
by Greg | Feb 5, 2014 | Blog Posts
It seems like the “Snowpocalypse” of last week is a distant memory. All traces of snow are gone and our friends in Atlanta have returned to normal routines. Living in Georgia all of my life, I have had very few snow days, so nearly every one of them is memorable. I can easily recall one winter ice storm when I was a little boy that took down power lines and waited along with befuddled dairy cows needing badly to be milked for Georgia Power to restore our electricity. Even though out lives no longer revolve around the school calendar, there was still a bit of hopeful anticipation to see if local schools will be cancelled. Throughout Tuesday we tracked on television and on the internet the progress of the cold front that was promising to bring us snow, ice and sleet from the heavens. Some, especially those that work outside, saw this as an ominous foreboding. Others, especially students, saw this as a gift from the Creator. I saw this as a nice diversion. This was the first Snow Day without children in the house. When I suggested to Amy we go outside and make snow angles and build a snow fort guarded by a snowman, she politely ignored me as she read the paper from the comfort of her rocking chair. She will be the first to tell you, however, that she loves to welcome its rare arrival. What is so special about a fresh snowfall that even the most cynical among us cannot refuse? Is it the wonderful blanket of silence that morning snow leaves or those...
by Greg | Jan 28, 2014 | Blog Posts
Not so many days ago I was involved in a rather innocent exchange with a gentlemen seated to my right at a banquet. His name was Dr. Clarence Williams. We were seated at the head table because I was invited to give greetings on behalf of the religious community and Dr. Williams was invited to give greetings on behalf of the medical community. Between mouthfuls of food – I never let conversation interfere with eating – he asked me where I was from. I shrugged and said, “Eatonton; you probably never heard of it.” His reply was quick and said that yes, in fact, he did know it quite well. “I taught at the High School for a few years before I went to the Medical College. My wife is from Eatonton. In fact I know some Deloaches.” I proceeded to name the DeLoaches in my family and he shook his head and said, “I remember Greg DeLoach, is he any kin?” “Well that’s me,” I blurted out. It turns out he taught while I was in high school and although I never had him for a class, he remembered me attending a class next door. I wondered, and still do, what in the world did I do, say, or how did I behave that would cause him to remember me thirty years later. As I ponder this, I am not sure I want to know the answer. Still, I was touched that he reached across three decades to connect with me. A couple of days later during Wednesday night dinner I am wandering from table to table (are...
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