Praying For Johnson City

If you haven’t noticed, our little “Mayberry” is changing.

For those not old enough to remember, Mayberry was the fictional community in the 60’s “The Andy Griffith Show” which served as a metaphor for the perfect place to live. As far as I’m concerned, Johnson City still is, but the big city is creeping in along with its problems.

Several years ago, an Airstream dealer next to the Pedernales River was busted for “theft by deception” and was wanted in Arizona for the kidnaping and sexual assault of a child. Also, some just-passing-through people from California were busted with 103 pounds of marijuana in their car by the JCPD.

Still, our city is pretty great. According to AreaVibes, a website that helps people find the best places to live in America, the overall crime rate in Johnson City is 62% lower than the Texas average. Our livability score is 76 which ranks 79% higher than other areas.

Yet Austin is getting ever nearer from the East with Alamo City creeping in from the south. With big city growth comes big city problems. I know. I used to live in the land of the knuckleheads. This little utopia may not last forever, but I do know how we can stave off the inevitable, for perhaps a few more years. But we all must do our part and it doesn’t involve building a wall on Highways 290 and 281, nor do we need to load our deer rifles with extra rounds. We certainly don’t have to panic either. The solution?

That Obnoxious Holiday Greeting

I WAS OFFENDED! I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was this allowed in Johnson City, Texas?
Apparently so. As far as I knew there was no law against it.

I walked up to the counter of HealthMart, our local pharmacy, and there was the most offensive, agitating, insensitive sign I ever saw. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but still, I was shocked. I called Phil the manager over to ask him about that, that…sign: “How come it says ‘Happy Holidays’? This is Johnson City. We are a Christmas town!”

He’s a very friendly guy and listened attentively as I voiced my complaint.

Hunting in the Hill Country

AT THE RISK OF BEING OFFENSIVE I want to report on the biggest pastime here in the Hill Country of Texas, even bigger than football: It’s deer hunting. The majority of our congregation at Community Church of the Hills (CCH) in Johnson City owns a guns and uses them.

One of my friends, Aaron Wardlow, gave me permission to post his trophies from the first two opening weekends of 2016 (he’s allowed five white tail). The interesting thing is his philosophy about why he hunts deer. (These have all been shot with a bow and arrow, by the way). Here is his defense:

aaron

“That is all the meat that our family eats for the year, so this time of year I am stocking up until next season. We usually only eat all natural non-processed meats that I harvest. So it’s not taken lightly and done for the thrill, I give thanks to the animal and God every time for the food to nourish our bodies.

No Longer a Stranger in a Strange Land

I preached my first sermon at Community Church of the Hills one year ago last Sunday, July 10, 2015.

Never, in a million years did I ever expect to be pastoring a church in the middle of Texas, especially since I’m a native born—ahem—guy from the west coast, from the second largest city in America. (Is that vague enough?)

Oh, but what a wonderful change!

texas

I didn’t move to Texas like other Californians because of huge profits from the sale of their homes and getting double—triple—the value in the Lone Star State. I didn’t move as some sort of left-wing conspiracy to change the political climate of this Red State (I’m a conservative). I didn’t even move here as a protest against the Golden State and its strange brew of crazy, nonsensical, burdensome, ridiculous tax and social laws.

No, I came for one reason and one reason only: God called me.

I didn’t hear any voices, no angel trumpeted from Heaven nor did a lightning bolt strike a special place in my Bible. A series of circumstances aligned themselves together to cause me to pray about uprooting my family, leaving a church where I had been an associate pastor for fifteen years, abandoning a pension that I would receive in just five years, and, of course, saying goodbye to everything familiar, including family and friends.