Our Backyard

This is the view of the back of my childhood home. My father was the first to purchase property in that strip of land on Dughill Rd. He bought three parcels and eventually sold the two others to our adjoining neighbors to build houses on. At that time, we all went to the same American Baptist Church. The parsonage of the church was built two parcels from us. After a few years, the Lord showed my parents that this church did not honor the Lord and they moved on when I was just a tyke.

The backyard of my home afforded all the entertainment of my youth. It is a 3/4 acre lot and we had plenty of room in the back to play soccer, Ghost in the Graveyard, archery, and many other great games. The back left wall served as both a soccer kicking wall and a baseball backstop. I remember one day that we found some toads and so from that baseball backstop we pitched them into the air and sent them screaming with one swing of the bat the 60 or so feet to the creek.

When I was younger, each side of the yard had 2 parallel trees that served as goals for either soccer or football. My brother and Pastor's son Craig would come over and shoot archery in the yard. They would set up hay bails and shoot their compound bows. One day, after watching the variety show "That's Incredible", my brother and Craig thought the could mimic the show with some trick shooting. Ray would lay down in front of the hay bail and Craig would shoot the target only inches above him. They also got the bright idea that they could shoot arrows at each other and catch them. This lasted only a few shots as they almost killed each other. Another archery idea they had came from the Dukes of Hazard. They poured the bb's out of 12 gauge shotgun shells and then placed the shell upside down on the end of their arrow. All that was left was the primer and powder wad. They then shot the arrow at a huge rock we used to have at the edge of the creek. When the arrow hit, it made a tremendous BANG and shot right back at them. They decided that this too could kill them, so they stopped.

The focal point of the backyard was definitely the high rope swing tied from a 40 foot limb of the Sycamore tree. We used that swing for so many childhood games. It always served as "base" during tag. We used it so much that it always had a 4 or 5 foot dirt bare place underneath of it. My dad changed the rope to that swing every few years. It was a neighborhood event when it happened. Dad had devised a method of getting the rope that high by tying it first to a ball-peened hammer. He would through the hammer over the limb, and then my a series of ingenious throws tie the two ropes at just the right distance to come down and be attached to the seat. For my sister's wedding in our backyard, Dad purchased special white rope that was beautiful. He would drill two holes of course for the seat and tie a knot below the board. A very important step was melting the ends of the rope so it would not fray over time. Mom would not have liked that look at all.

A fun thing we like to do with that swing was sit someone on it and then twist up the 40 feet of rope. They would rise, rise, rise as we twisted them and then spin with furious speed as they unwound. If you were in the seat, you could get more speed by simply leaning forward. When the ride finished, the rider would hop off and stagger around drunkenly. It was great fun. I never remember anyone throwing up from the ride, but I sure remember many who could not walk for several minutes.

My father has always been meticulous about his lawn in that yard. Originally, when we built the house, my parents raked the yard for rocks for several months before seeding it. They also "rolled" the yard several times a year with a large water-filled roller that we had for many years. My father religiously fertilizes, and today that lawn is softer than most carpets with zero weeds. It is great to visit and romp around with the grandchildren or simply lay on and look up at the sky through the large boughs of the Sycamore tree.

The Rock Garden

My mother always kept a "rock garden" on the sloping side of my childhood home. I assume it was called a rock garden because of the large rocks that bordered the garden and also separated the large collection of plants within.

In my early years I remember the top of the rock garden being a steady row of orange/brown Iris flowers against the house. Each end of season, my mother would faithfully cut away the plants to allow the bulbs to send up new growth in the spring. One year, I really wanted to help my mother. A friend of mine had just purchased a new invention that hardly anyone possessed: a weed eater. As I saw my friend cutting down weeds with that orange electric Black and Decker weed eater, I thought of all the time I could save my mother if I got him to cut down the Iris plants. I was a good boy and I explained the contraption. She hesitantly agreed and came to watch progress in action. As the string began to spin on that weed eater, the Iris' choppings began to fly like a blender without a lid. It was as if we were in the middle of a tornado of juicy plant shreds. My mother lost her sanctification and we were barely able to escape with the weed eater and our lives.

Another rock garden story fills my mind...Our neighbor to the left was a mean man. He was rather well-to-do and didn't seem to like kids at all. His wife was very nice though and we tried to be kind to her when we could. Our next door neighbors to our right had two girls a bit older than me. The younger, Tina and I decided that it would be a nice thing for us to put some Iris flowers from my mother's rock garden in a vase and leave them anonymously at the front door of our mean neighbor. So, me (being a good boy) asked my mother first if we could do it. She of course said "yes" and thought it was a good gesture. The problem was that I didn't understand horticulture. I found a large vase, dug the Iris plants up (bulbs and all) and put a large handful in front of our neighbors house. My mother was sore at me for several days that she had lost those good bulbs.

I found a very nice garder snake one time in that rock garden. I kept it for a while in a large glass canning jar. One day, to my surprise, that snake vomited itself up. I don't know how to describe it to this day. I don't know if it was shedding it's skin or what. All I know is, it opened it's mouth wide and vomited it's entire body out of its mouth. I was so freaked out that I dumped the snake out and ran away with only the willies.

My Childhood Home

"I will look to the hills from whence cometh my help..."

I often speak of my childhood home in West Virginia. Even to this day, I draw strength from those hills. I am invigorated when I deeply breath in the air of the hollow where I was born.

My parents built our home the year that I came into this world. It was the only house that I ever knew. I thought it might be fun to share some photos and stories with you of this sacred place.

A road barely two cars wide runs up a hollow called "Dug hill". I do not know whether the two hills on opposite sides of this road were indeed "dug out", but the hollow is only separated by the road, a strip of land perhaps 3/4 acre wide, and a beautiful creek.

These are the elements that cause years of precious memories to flood through my veins. I hope to share a few with you.

Pastors in Prison

Yesterday was a tremendous day for our Pastors. We spent the day from morning till night in Howard Young Prison and then Smyrna.

We go into the prisons along with the Rock of Ages Prison Ministry. This time there were 7 of us that went in. We go in teams back into the prison "pods". Pods are like 20 cells or so enclosed in a big common area with wooden picnic tables, a TV up on the wall, shower stalls enclosed only by a hinged 1/2 door, a common sink, and that's about it. The common area is about 35ft x 35ft or so.

We pass through the prison halls and come to each pod that is accessed by metal doors from the hallway. You bang on the door and are "buzzed" through to a very small hallway and then buzzed through by 2 officers per pod into the common area.

Some guys are willing to talk and some are not. The Muslim men are generally unwilling to talk. Yesterday, I found myself doing a lot of "pastoring" to men who had already received Christ. There seems to be little discipling to these men. There is little spiritual growth and these men quickly fall into the 2 Peter 1 scenario of those that are saved, but are barren and unfruitful and eventually become "blind" and "forget" they were purged from their sin. Eventually, this leads to them getting back into sin and returning to jail again.

I am reminded at how important discipleship is after salvation. I do not doubt that most of these men that I spoke to are indeed "born again". In several cases, I tried to talk them out of their hope in Christ and they would not be swayed. They were not confused in the least that their hope for salvation lay only in the substitutionary death of Christ.

In Smyrna, we are always thrilled with the electricity of the service. These men come with great joy, smiles, and heartfelt singing. Soul-felt choruses ring the air with truths of how much we "need the Lord".

We three Pastors sang "The Unclouded Day" and many of the men rose to their feet with claps of rejoicing. Brother Jeff Cassell (the guy from Sunday Night at LBC) from Rock of Ages preached a sermon about Achan "What's in Your Tent". He bellowed out the truths of Achan's Eyes, Heart, and Action that hid his sin. The message was primarily to the many believers that Chaplain Pennel and our Missionary Tim Heald have discipled for many years. When the invitation was given, weeping men filled the altar confessing sin and crying out for help from the Lord to amputate sin from their lives.

Oh, what a joy it would be if the people of Lighthouse would be serious about their sin in this manner. We may be tempted to look at these men as "big sinners" - I would ask you today who read this blog, "What is hidden in the tent of your life?". What is in your mind, your cell phone, your Internet history, your radio, your language, your reading? Oh that God would bring a stirring to us as He did last night.

I prayed with one dear man who was one of the first to come to the altar. He was weeping and I asked what what I could pray for. Very broken, he said, "just pray for freedom". He spoke not of his incarceration, but the incarceration of besetting sin of an honest saint of God.

Another man came up to me after the service. He was a nice young white man who was in earnest. He would be released soon and asked if he would be welcome at our church. I told him sincerely that we would do everything we could to help him spiritually when he was released. He then told me something that shocked me. He told me that he had been sent a letter from a very well known Independent Baptist Church in lower Delaware. Though he was repentant and broken, the letter stated that they didn't want him any longer in the church. They stated "they didn't want his influence there". I could certainly understand this if it was church discipline, but it was not. It was the response of a Christian without compassion, blind in their own self-righteousness without realization of the depths of their own depravity without God's Grace.

I plan to contact the Pastor to find the source of this letter. The Pastor was not there when letter was sent. We must never have this tone at LBC. I told the Rock of Ages men to send us every man they could who was released from Prison and thirsted after the Lord. It is our great privilege to serve these broken princes of the most high God.

Mat 25:34 Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:
Mat 25:35 For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
Mat 25:36 Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.
Mat 25:37 Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?
Mat 25:38 When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?
Mat 25:39 Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?
Mat 25:40 And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

It was a great blessing to be in the prisons. We got to our homes after 11pm last night and each of us knew that we had spent a very long day exclusively in the service of our Noble Master. Good Stuff.

Bobby Ogden Funeral

Bobby Ogden's funeral will be held at The Potter's Field on Thursday Sept. 10th at 1pm.

Pastor Dave Persinger from Pleasantville Baptist will be conducting the funeral.

Potter's Field can be accessed from the Southbound lane of Rt. 13 coming from Wilmington. It is the turn beyond the State Hospital before Highway 295. It is the same turn as the Women's Correctional Facility.

The 1pm service will be at the graveside and those attending need to park at the Women's Correctional Facility and walk through the gates to Potter's Field.