THANKFUL

February 11

Even though Heaven and Earth will pass away, but my words will remain steadfast forever—Matthew 24:35 (King Jimmy Translation)

Flash from the Past

The charming Mrs. Aggie and I have snuggled together in the Aggie homestead for twenty-seven years. Because your humble Aggie scribe inherited pack-rat DNA, Mrs. Aggie decided to declutter our home before we became stars on the cable TV show “Hoarders: Buried Alive.”

One ancient box, buried deep within a dust-covered chest, had Jimmy written in my mother’s handwriting on the cover. She kept everything from my sister and my childhood before moving to her uncluttered heavenly mansion at eighty-nine. Removing the lid created a Grapes of Wrath dust cloud that sent my allergies into a sneezing fit. When British archaeologist Howard Carter opened King Tut’s tomb, he couldn’t have experienced a greater rush as mine when I opened the box.

Lying on top, layered in dust, was my sixth-grade class picture.

“Oh, look,” Mrs. Aggie wiped the dust off the picture. “Aren’t you a cutie!” Her proud smile no doubt matched my mother’s smile fifty-seven years earlier

There I stood on the top tier, adorned in my neatly pressed Sunday shirt, chest extended, with a schoolboyish grin. Maybe my exuberance came from standing behind Susan Woodard, my one-and-only sixth-grade-and-forever heartthrob. Or maybe I looked that way because I was oblivious to the distress that awaited me next year in junior high.

My seventh-grade class picture featured me lost in a maze of 300 zit-speckled kids. The difference between the sixth-grade and the seventh-grade picture left me shaking my head. My forced smile revealed me as traumatized by constant bullying about my stuttering and repeated rejections of puppy love.

“Oh, my goodness!” Mrs. Aggie threw her head back, amused at my Edison High School marching band picture. She pointed to me on the top tier, standing at attention like a Buckingham Palace guard. “Just look at you. You played the tuba?”

I chuckled. “No, I only carried a tuba to attract women.” I think the tuba outweighed me.

“Now I know where you got your hot air.” Mrs. Aggie winked at me.

The band kids’ smiles were the epitome of innocence. The girls’ band hats rested high atop their bouffant hair. Most of the guys wore crew cuts since Beatle haircuts would not cover American boy’s ears for another two years. Within five years, the horrors of Viet Nam robbed the innocence of some of these boys.

When I reminisce of my band days, one incident stands out. While practicing for a halftime show one morning, without the band director’s approval, the tuba players got together and decided to do a spin every ten yards. The first two spins went smoothly. It looked cool. It was fun. During the third spin, the bell of my tuba coldcocked a cute little clarinet player, sending her earthward. The tubas never spun again.

Mom kept every report card from junior high through high school. The academic standards for 1963 revealed a simpler educational era.

Grades                                           Attitude Marks

A—93 to 100: Superior                                   S—Satisfactory

B—85 to 92: Above Average                        U—unsatisfactory (not my fault)

C—77 to 84: Average                                     I—Improving (still not my fault)

D—70 to 76: Below Average

F—0 to 69: Failure (no participation trophy)

Definitions of Dependability, Work Attitude and Self-Control

Dependability—Willing to assume his part in a cooperative spirit

Work Attitude—Applies reasonable effort and persistence to the task at hand. Assumes responsibility for his work. Complies cheerfully with the requirements of those in authority. (emphasis mine)

Self-Control—Shows normal reactions. Is not readily thrown into displays of excessive emotions. Remains calm when confronted with disturbing elements (emphasis mine). Has an even temper.

When not acting like a ding-a-ling, your humble Aggie scribe made average grades. My senior year found me as a regular on the honor roll.

School started with a prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance. Prayer is now banned and some schools do not say the Pledge for fear of offending someone. Give me a break.

Tucked away in the box was a receipt for $257.50 from Roy’s Auto Sales for a 1953 Ford 4-door sedan. Stamped in bold red letters across the document was “Paid in Full.” I needed that car. It carried my tuba better than my moped.

Have times changed? The difference between the Beach Boys 1963 hit “Surfin’ USA” and Beyoncé’s bumping-and-grinding 2016 Super Bowl halftime show reveals the extent our culture and values have changed. Today, moral relativism, based on feelings and emotions, determine right or wrong. Traditional Judeo-Christian values are considered outdated. Despite our social progress, people in 2017 ask the same question that was asked in 1963. In fact, this question arose over 2000 years ago when Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judea, asked Jesus this question: “What is truth?”

The answer never changes: God’s Word. His truths are the only foundation that give our lives meaning.

The truth is our sin debts separated us from God. Our efforts to do good works for God, outside of his grace, were powerless to save us—that’s religion. Only through our trust in the work Jesus did for us on the cross are we redeemed from our sins and restored to God.

The principles in God’s Word guide us to peace and contentment. Who cares how the world sees us? What matters is what God thinks about us. As Christ-followers, he has stamped on our sin receipt—in bold, blood-red letters— “Paid in Full.”

Lord, when we come to you with a sincere heart, we will take your Word as absolute truth. Thank you that your grace, forgiveness, and mercy never change. Your salvation is everlasting. Nothing can separate us from your love.

Stay close to Jesus

Jimmy

P.S. After fifty years, the vision still haunts me of the cute little clarinet player sprawled on the field still clutching her clarinet, a tuba bell impression in her bouffant hair, her saddle oxfords pointing skyward. She never played on key again. She refused to sign my yearbook, too.

Jimmy Eskew © 2017