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December 7, 2021
by Steve Sanchez
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Lead Pearl Harbor Bomber Becomes Christian After Reading Tract

“THE DATE WHICH WILL LIVE IN INFAMY” is today, December 7, which is the 80th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor where over 2,300 people died and 1,100 were injured. It was a Sunday morning when the sneak attack by Japanese bombers was perpetrated on Pearl Harbor in Oahu, Hawaii. This terrorist action propelled the U.S. into World War 2.

This is the incredible story of Mitsuo Fuchida, lead pilot of the December 7, 1941, raid on Pearl Harbor. Fuchida was the one who shouted the war cry, “Tora, Tora, Tora!” 

Mitsuo Fuchida fought the United States throughout WWII and was intimately involved in the planning and leadership of the Japanese war effort as flight commander and later as a senior operations officer.

After the war, Fuchida was a defeated warrior in occupied Japan, farming to meet the needs of his family. He was also the only one to return to Japan after the bombing.

In 1950, Fuchida miraculously came to know Jesus Christ as Savior through a tract handed to him while exiting a train in Tokyo. The tract was entitled, “I Was a Prisoner of Japan,” written by Jacob DeShazer who was one of the famous Doolittle Raiders. DeShazer trusted Christ as his Savior while held captive by Japan for 40 months. DeShazer went to Japan in 1948 as a missionary and preached to the nation who held him captive.

Fuchida faithfully served Jesus Christ as an evangelist until his death in 1976. “From Pearl Harbor to Golgotha” is Fuchida’s testimony of salvation. Here it is in his own words:

I must admit I was more excited than usual as I awoke that morning at 3:00 a.m., Hawaii time, four days past my thirty-ninth birthday. Our six aircraft carriers were positioned 230 miles north of Oahu Island. As general commander of the air squadron, I made last-minute checks on the intelligence information reports in the operations room before going to warm up my single-engine, three-seater “97-type” plane used for level bombing and torpedo flying.
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October 9, 2021
by Steve Sanchez
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The Love Heard ‘Round the World

In 2019, the younger brother of a man who was shot by a former Dallas Police officer stunned the world when, instead of condemning Botham Jean’s killer for shooting him in his own apartment by mistake, said something so outrageous, so ridiculous, so weird, that he must have been an authentic believer in Jesus Christ.

What did Brandt Jean say to Amber Guyger in the courtroom after she was sentenced to ten years in prison for murder?

“I hope you go to God with all the guilt, all the bad things you may have done in the past…if you truly are sorry…I forgive you, and I know if you go to God and ask him, he will forgive you. I love you just like anyone else. I personally want the best for you. I don’t even want you to go to jail; I want the best for you. And the best would be to give your life to Christ. I think giving your life to Christ would be the best thing that Botham would want you to do. Again, I love you…and I don’t wish anything bad on you.”

What Brandt said was nothing short of supernatural. It makes no human sense at all. Unconditional forgiveness? That’s crazy!

King Louis of France said, “Nothing smells so sweet as the dead body of your enemy.”

Author Heinrich Heine declared, “We should forgive our enemies, but not before they are hanged.”

Forgiveness is not natural, yet nothing characterizes the new nature of a born-again believer more than forgiveness, because nothing characterized the nature of our Lord and Savior more than forgiveness.

As Jesus hung on the cross—nailed there, hands and feet—after being scourged, beaten and mocked for crimes he did not commit, his last words to his murderers were, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:24)

“Forgive”: to give up resentment against or the desire to punish; to stop being angry with; to pardon. To give up all claim to punish; to overlook.

That’s what Brandt Jean did.

That’s what an Amish community did in 2006 when a shooter killed ten young girls execution-style in their own one room schoolhouse.

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August 30, 2021
by Steve Sanchez
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The Agony & the Ecstasy: My First 6 Years as Pastor of Community Church of the Hills

Sunday, August 30, marked the official 6-year anniversary of my being the pastor at Community Church of the Hills. When I first started, we had 81 people. Out of that original congregation, 12 still attend.

The first year was my honeymoon. It seemed everyone loved me. The second and third year, not so much. I learned that in a small church, in a small town, if you offend one person, the whole family and all their friends leave.I offended many during my first years’ learning curve.

Coming directly from a 1,500-member church in the beach cities of L.A. to a small country church in the middle of rural Texas didn’t translate well. I was not very gracious and was way too demanding. I over-emphasized evangelism and talked about Hell ad nauseum.

The first person to leave said it was because I didn’t teach out of the King James Bible. She had gone there 17 years. In that entire time, no one ever taught out of the King James Bible.

Another said that he wasn’t being fed. (Pastors, ever hear that one before?)

Still another complained that she “just wasn’t feeling it.”

Yet another left because someone put a hat on his wife’s chair.

One guy split because he didn’t like being told what to do and another bailed because I shook his hand the wrong way.

Oh! Did I mention that God prevented a church split in 2018? Or that a guy wrote a 4 page letter to the Elders trying to get me fired?

The bottom line? They didn’t love me as much as I thought.

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August 7, 2021
by Steve Sanchez
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Sin, Opened Eyes & a Fatboy Burger

I had an experience yesterday that was similar to Christmas Evans as written about in his diary. He was a Welsh preacher of the late 18th and early 19th centuries:

One Sunday afternoon I was traveling by horseback to an appointment. Suddenly as I went along a very lonely road, I was convicted of having a cold heart.

I dismounted, tethered my horse to a tree, and found a secluded spot. Then, walking back and forth in agony, I reviewed my life.

I waited before God in brokenness and sorrow for three hours. Finally a sweet sense of His forgiving love broke over me, and I received a fresh filling of His Holy Spirit.

As the sun was setting, I walked back to the road, found my horse, and rode on to my appointment.

The following day I preached with so much new power, to a vast gathering of people on a hillside, that revival broke out and ultimately spread through all of Wales.

God showed me some blind spots that I wasn’t aware of on Friday. It was difficult, painful and grueling to be made aware of these, but enriched my soul as I confessed my sin and trusted Christ once again.

Instead of going out on a hillside to preach, I went to my office to prepare my Sunday sermon—and was filled with joy as the words flowed out of me.

But before doing that, I needed a big bacon cheese burger from Fatboy Burgers in Johnson City. I kept hearing that they had the best burgers in town, perhaps the world. Seriously, EVERYONE was telling me this.

I jumped in my car in anticipation of drowning my sorrow and confessed sin in a big multi-calorie feast—with curly fries even!

With mouth watering and heart smarting, I pulled into their parking lot at 2:10, dreaming of big burger blessedness.

But it was not too be.

All my hopes and dreams came crashing down as I saw the sign announcing they had closed at 2. Yet hope springs eternal. I’d be back later in the day when they reopened at 4:30.

That’s how I deal with sorrow of heart.

August 5, 2021
by Steve Sanchez
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Got Vaxxed 2 Months Ago! Ain’t Dead Yet.

I GOT MY 2ND MODERNA SHOT two months ago and my face hasn’t melted, I haven’t died in my sleep and the start of the zombie apocalypse has been postponed.

I didn’t get vaxxed because I was scared, believed Biden, Fauci or the rest of the mainstream news media.

It wasn’t because I believed it was the greatest health threat of our time.

It wasn’t even because my daughters pressured me to do so. I had a much more important reason for getting “the mark of the beast.”

I always looked askance at the whole contrived media distortion of the virus itself and felt the odds of me dying from it were akin to getting hit by lightning while being eaten by a shark.

I always thought masks were stupid, didn’t work, and felt the whole controversy was a big lie to get the Bad Orange Man out of office.

So why did I get the vaccine since it ain’t really a vaccine anyway? After all, my face might melt, my gonads could explode, and my progeny will end up playing dueling banjoes somewhere in the northwest Georgia wilderness.

Facebook “friends” warned that I would suffer blood clots, heart attack or depletion of my platelets. I’d most likely contract some strange immunological disorder, or have a stroke and die.

Or worse.

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