We had an unusual treat at Rotary Friday, dinner music. A young pianist, Taylor Schmidt, was playing as we dined. Then he gave a rendition of "Battle Hymn of the Republic" that spoke to my soul. I recounted it to the inmates at LARK. The words were written about our nation's Civil War, viewing it as Christ returning in judgement: "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored." Grapes of wrath are injustice in society from which GOD has drawn "the wine of His wrath" so that wicked rulers and leaders will be made to drink it on Judgement Day. Yet that song isn't just about America's own war. Its name should be from the chorus, "Glory, Glory Hallelujah" because it fits our current situation just as well: "His truth is marching on!" When the Bible describes Jesus returning in the eastern sky, it means that His return comes with events emerging into history from the future, just as the sunrise bringing tomorrow becomes today. Jesus continues saying "Then the sign of the Son of Man will appear in heaven, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory." I believe THE sign will be that New Jerusalem John sees in his vision of Rev.21. Thus Israel and Jerusalem are the final focus of current events. Israeli leaders say that we are already into WW III (Armageddon) and the coming attack on Iraq will surely enlarge it. War is a terrible evil but it appears inevitable. Yet the "warfare of Christ" or fighting the good fight means a spiritual one rather than carnal. I think that song tried to interpret the Civil War as a holy jihad, when in fact no earthly war is holy. Instead, prayer warriors fight for the faith. St.Paul in 2 Timothy tells his young disciple to "be a good soldier of Jesus Christ." That is metaphor. It's the battle of Ephesians 6, putting on the whole armor of GOD. Friday's devotional in the "The Democrat" was about prayer being hard work. Jesus even sweat blood along with tears in the garden where He prayed alone. I would add that it's also the true warfare against "powers and principalities, rulers of darkness of this world and spiritual wickedness in high places." Did you pray before going to vote, or as you cast your ballot?

I cast ballot # 337 in WW about noon today and the place was buzzing with voters, so there surely was a good turnout. Guess Niece and I will stay up later (we're late night regulars) to hear the results. But some states may take days to settle the outcome. Remember how long it took in Florida in 2000? My own view of the hostility we face from Islamic fanatics in this War on Terrorism is that the eight years before 2000 provoked Muslim puritanism to consider the U.S. as scum of the earth. Especially our sexual behavior they saw as moral pollution. The wickedness gets more attention than our virtues. So the Bush administration has inherited the results of sodomy in the oval office. But the corporate greed that ran rampant on Wall street, with gambling becoming wide open now just continues to fuel the fire. Puritans can be so judgemental on others, but that could also be the vintage of grapes of wrath, the cup we're now being made to drink. When I led the inmates to sing that song I asked if there were any rebels wanting to sing Dixie but none offered. So let's claim it for today and now as "Glory, Glory Hallelujah."

Veterans Day still brings me memories of when it was Armistice Day. That was the big deal folks remembered that had concluded WW I when I was small. I was born just a decade later and was taught that we had learned as a nation never again to settle disputes with warfare. The League of Nations was our answer following that "war to end war." Poison gas, we were told, was the last straw that caused the war to end with an armistice instead of a victory over the Central Powers; though we Americans knew that it was a victory. Whenever we kids would choose up sides to play war, both armies claimed to be the Americans, with the opposite being the Germans. I recall our teacher, who had been a "doughoy," telling us students that U.S. soldiers killed in battle were always laying face forward. He said the Germans learned to call Americans "war dogs" because they were so fierce. Being just a third grader in that one room southern IL school, I took what he said to heart. And Mr.Farlough also taught us to sing patriotic songs before classes each morning. We all hated the Italian dictator Mussolini whose army was invading Ethiopia. Bad enough that he started the first war since Armistice Day. It was the white Italian's tanks against those black warriors on horseback and we kids were cheering for the Ethiopians. But at church it was pacifism as the Gospel because Jesus was the Prince of Peace. Warfare was so wicked that we should never again be engaged in it. That was before we'd even heard of Hitler, way back in '35 when Armistice Day was all about peace. Just four years later when I changed to a large school in town, there was so much attention on sports that I hardly knew in '39 that WW II had begun. But in '41 when the Japs hit our naval base, Pearl Harbour, all the pacifism disappeared. I knew that I might eventually have to go to war and the thought of getting killed didn't seem as bad to me as having to kill. I even wondered is I was a conscientious objector. But that was considered worse that being 4-F. So when my dad joined the Seabees and our family moved back to Oklahoma, I forgot about Armistice Day and enlisted in the navy as soon as I was old enough to get in. That was January of '45 and by August WW II ended. I'd been trained in electronics and the navy urged us to sign up for nuclear tests at Bikini atoll. But my parents urged me to take postwar discharge and start college. My mother had worked in the ship yard and my older brother had been in V-12 officer training. So we'd finish being a navy family, though I stayed in the naval reserve during time at OU. Even went aboard a destroyer down to Cuba and Jamaica on a summer training cruise. That was in about '47 and we were packed like sardines aboard that ship. We sailed down the south coast of Cuba, but I only saw it on our radar screen. Then after a day at Gitmo, we went on to Kingston. It was strange to hear black people talking with an English accent back then. When illegal immigrants now land on our Florida shore, I recall a kid that showed us around in Jamaica. He wanted so badly to come back with us. And he claimed that all his people felt the same way. I hated to sail off and leave the little guy. If he's still alive, he's close to seventy by now. I'm glad we've changed to Veterans Day now, because the Armistice was a delusion. just like the League of Nations it fostered. At last it's successor, the United Nations, seems to be more dependable; though we may yet have to bypass it. I've come to see that only the return of Christ Jesus will bring peace on earth at last. And that won't be imposed but arise out of the regenerate hearts of all those who are His own, His bride. Last prayer in the Bible is for that glorious Day: "Come Lord Jesus."

Seeing on TV other communities demolished so often by tornadoes makes me thankful that my home town here has been spared through the years. Also the creation of a national Department of Homeland Security makes me wonder if even this safe haven may change. When I drive into PV from WW past Homeland, I recall when Charley Price had a big sale barn in the area back in the thirties. And I wonder where Burr Plaza got it's name. On up Chickasaw I remember when the east/west routes were known as "tough" and "double-tough" streets. Clear up at the court house, that lawn was kept with a reel type mower that ran on muscle power. So were all the nice lawns on up to Lee school. The ice plant was back east of the old high school along side the railroad. I would go there to buy lime for whitewashing tree trunks for people's residence. They thought it looked nicer. In the forties a guy named "Jonsey" worked there that all us guys loved to visit. He'd talk to us about everything, especially girl problems. When I went off into the a few years later, I wrote to him once asking him to remember me and he even wrote back saying he recalled all of us. There were no stop lights in those years; just signs instead. And it was so easy to get a driver's license. I just went down to the police station, filled out a form and paid the fee as I recall. It came in the mail and I've had it ever since. Only two banks back then, PV National where I started my teen account, and First National across the street. I hardly knew there was a large part of town east of the railroad. And we thought of it as straight east instead of northeast. I could never have imagined that a Bosa Center would one day be on the north edge of town out there, much less PV high school. In fact it wasn't until about '46 when I was taking flying lesson up at OU that I flew over PV and realized how my part of town was an X instead of square with the world. I still think of N. Walnut as running north instead of northwest. But the bricks have stayed the same as way back then both downtown and up Walnut and Pine (I believe). And the bricks of First Presbyterian are the same. I saw that church from my grandmother Hightower's front yard so often that I've always felt it was just the say a church should look. Others in town have changed, but that one still looks as it did form my earliest recollection: my older brother and I were out n the yard with one of his friends. I believe it was Billy Williamson, a neighbor. I was three of four years old and we saw a crown of people coming out and down the steps following a casket. I just perplexed because they were all weeping as my brother said to Billy "Joe doesn't know about death yet. He's too young." What an impact that had on me. It came to be an aweful anguish for me to consider, until in my college years, grandmother Hightower told me that Jesus arose from the dead to dispel our fears. How much I own to that saint, Amy Hightower who died in '69. I even have her maiden name, Allen. So some things are secure forever, even if PV should pass away. But I've always loved the place where I was born and feel that it has a special destiny in Oklahoma, America and the world; not in football (at least not this year) but in the far larger game of life. Everything keeps improving here over the "long run" (a great football phrase). So let's just call it a bit of heaven on earth that outshines the crime, cruelty and corruption of these times. We hear a lot about mountains in the Bible, but I may write on the valleys later. So many of them are mentioned too. Maybe I can find one that fits PV.

I've heard evangelism described as "one beggar telling another hungry beggar where to find bread." When it comes to our need for divine grace, that seems like a figurtive description. But we don't like beggars in America. It runs against our spirit of self reliance. So begging here is usually disguised someway, because we can't stand to recall those depression days when they came to homes back in the thirties asking for something to eat. I was small, but I noticed they always knocked at the rear door. No beggar, hobo, tramp, bum or needy transient ever came on the front porch. It was always to our back door. It was because of shame I presume. Sometimes dad would even be asked for money on the street downtown in Mt.Vernon: "Buddy can you spare a dime for a cup of coffee?" (which was as much then as a dollar is now). And decent folks just couldn't turn them away in that innocent age of long ago. God fearing citizens back then thought they might be refusing Christ Himself incognito. Catholics knew of their famous Italian faith hero, Saint Francis of Assisi, who left the comforts of his wealhy family in the Middle Ages to become a poor mendicant and later founded an order of monks. He had so much love for all earth's creatures that it shamed the opulient lives of those with plenty as he followed literally the example of Jesus. San Francisco bears his name in our land. Our new lady Democrat leader in Congress hails from there and seems as far left as her city does on the U.S. map to me. Still our nation has grown incredibly rich, and we tend now to forget or overlook the poor. Remember how FDR proclaimed a "freedom from want" and LBJ launched a "War on Poverty." So thank GOD for those like Lou Hall in PV. She spoke to us at Rotary about PV's annual Samaritan project which prepares food baskets at this season each year for the needy. Ron Jarman sang as a sample of what over 300 customers would enjoy Saturday night at the Bosa Center; fund raiser for the Samaritans. How it fit with the column on Saturday's "Oklahoman" church section that described how Gospel music has grown into an industry today. The local event was an expression of Godly compassion as well as entertainment. Yet I sense a compassion fatigue that's sneaking into us as we see too many take unfair advantage of charity provisions. One of the things Lou mentioned was that some applications for Samaritan baskets are made by concerned neighbors rather than would-be recipiens. I really liked that approach better. It removes the beggar element I feel. Seems a little like the requirement in parlimentary proceedure to get a second before you can have the floor to speak. You need to be heard, but some other person verifies your right to take the floor. I once worked with street people in OKC back in the eighties and I got to see how very streetwise many of they had become. Our entire Interstate system was their "street." They knew how to con their way along it and avoid the strains of settled responsibility. So many were Intestate nomads: seeking food and lodging, plus` fuel (if they had a vehicle and maybe kids). It recalled my years in the ddozen or more small towns where I'd pastored with the many indigent transients. The local ministerial alliance would help them enough to get on to` another town, where they could beg again. But for urban street people in my OKC ministry, it was City to big City. They were like gypsies of former ages, (who taught the world about getting gypped). Now their survival tactics seem to have permeiated our society as the Interstater's lifestyle. It causes me to have some sympathy for the oft maligned Department of Human Services. And surely you've read by now about our Department of Corrections shortfall. Looks like "rainey day" funds are to be used for temporary operation of all 15 prisons. That's to allow the legislature to avoid a special session. But first thing on their agenda next year will be finding the mega-millions needed to keep going. I fear that the lottery plan governor elect Brad Henry has before us will only aggriate instead of alleviate the situation. Gambling is the worship of Chance rather that GOD, as I see it. Lady Luck did smile on an Ada family last week. They won the $27 million jackpot of that Texas lottery. But how fair was that to Texans, where most of the money was derived? Oklahoma's Baptists call it a "lootery" and they're right. All those Indian casinos in our state are disgusting, I say. How did Indians get above the law? But some are saying like Henry "If you can't lick them, join them." Isn't that a coward's cop out? The Southern Baptist state assembly spoke out boldly at Moore, but it's one of their own who is leading Oklahoma down that way into Las Vegas culture: glittering, glamorus, Godless and gutterbound. Maranatha!

So the Miss World won't be chosen in Nigeria, Africa, as first planned. It's global beauty contest is to be in London instead. Seems that an African newspaper comment saying the girls were so beautiful that Muhammad himself would want the winner as his wife provoked Nigerian Muslims to riots that have caused 215 deaths. Half of Nigeria's population are Christians but the other half Islamic. So guess which are dead? Beauty pageants are unacceptable to Muslims who insist on far greater modesty in female public attire. Though they are much too extreme, we could certainly stand some of that restriction code in the way women dress over here, I think. Sex has been an obsession by our media until modesty is rare any more. That's surely why we seem repulsive to cultures with far higher standards against pornography, consumption of alcohol, irreligious statements, etc. And since whole nations try to be theocratic (Islamic), they think the entire USA is "Christian" in the same way. They don't realize that only individuals are Christians; not nations nor anything else. Of course it's a label used to mean the dominant religion. But that's an unScriptural misnomer. There's no Christianity in the Bible either. Our Lord didn't found a religion, but established the Kingdom of instead. There isn't any Gospel of Christianity. It's the Good News of Christ that continues to save lost souls; not religion. A Jew won for Christ or a Muslim led to the Messiah is more of a true heavenly gain that someone "converting to Christianity," I say.

My wife is the building contractor for a new home going up in the Tanglewood addition mentioned in this column previously. It's at 118 Crestview Circle, if you should care get take a look or know anyone interested. I think of a seasonal song for it, as though it were to be our place to live instead here in the Pinkhouse in WW:

"Bless this house O Lord we pray. Make it safe by night and day. Bless these walls so firm and stout, keeping want and trouble out. Bless the roof and chimney tall. Let Thy peace lie over all. Bless these doors that they may be ever open O Lord to Thee.

Bless these windows shining bright, letting in Thy heavenly light. Bless the hearth ablazing there with smoke ascending like a prayer. Bless the folks that dwell within. Keep them pure and free from sin. Bless us all that we may be fit Oh Lord to dwell with Thee. Bless us all that one day we may dwell O Lord with Thee."Many of you will know the tune, so sing it for your home here on Thanksgiving Day.

Let's give thanks this year for our president as we also pray for him. He seemed like a "burning bush" to me when he was nominated two years ago. And now it appears that the waters were parted for his election (like Israel's Red Sea miracle ) and we're on the wilderness journey since 9/11 to face many fiery serpents (war on terrorism) while trying to reach the Promised Land (return of Christ). Getting both houses of Congress with him too, and now having a Dept. of Home Security set up are evidence that the "Bush" has turned into a Moses for us.

Here's the song about Pauls Valley that I wrote for Thanksgiving Day. I comes from recollections of when flooding was almost an annual event as the Washita river overflowed into town. Once I even floated down N.Walnut in a rowboat. There wasn't anything west of town back then. All the traffic came down Ash since there was no Interstate and no fast food places on the road that ran to Whitebead and Maysville. Now things have sure improved a lot, though we're still "Down in the Valley." So that's the tune for my song:

Lord bless Pauls Valley, place I was born. I came close to Thanksgiving that November morn.

Surrounded by broomcorn and stalks gowning high, this seemed the best place to just live and die.

Streets of red brick were seen everywhere. they're a heavenly trail you can follow them there.

Rails that crossed Garvin county were all laid aslant, causing streets to run tilted like an X on the map.

Football's our main thing, Panthers our pride. Stadium's named for a great coach who's died.

Our founder named Smith, world's most common of all, has to use it as first since his last name was Paul.

Washita river overflowed when too high like the Interstate highway that now runs closely by`.

Go north to Paoli, or northwest to Lindsee; eastward to Stratford, Wynnewood south to see.

And southwest is Elmore, that town of such fame that there's no need to mention the rest of it's name.

Twas here in Pauls Valley I first saw the light. And most likely twill be where I spend my last night (unless on Mars).

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