Who'd A Thunk It?

Words cannot describe the conflict I feel when I view this photo.

It is the uniform of my grandson, which bears the logo of the Boyd County team in the Tri State Youth Football League.

When my boys were in school in the Ashland Public School District, the arch rival was Boyd County. Whether it was basketball, football, or baseball, the object was to defeat the county! Now, one of my own grandsons wears the uniform of the previously hated Lions. Who'd a thunk it?


Our younger son, Benji, and his family live in Cannonsburg. And even though their son, Will, goes to school in Ashland, now that he is playing youth sports, he is playing in the district where he lives - Boyd County...

Benji has taught school in Russell, KY and Ashland over the past four years, and Will has attended both districts. I think Benji and Leigh Anne have decided to keep will in Charles Russell Elementary School in Ashland - even though he lives out in the county. This is where Leigh Anne attended elementary school, and where Will's other grandmother, Linda Clanton, taught for about 30 years. It's a good school and he likes it there. I don't know where he will end up in High School (after all, he's only in the third grade now) but for now, it looks as though he will be playing youth Baseball and Football in his home district.

I have been an Ashland Tomcat fan for three decades. I volunteered in the Ashland schools. I served a four year term on the Ashland Board of Education, and was a director of the Tomcat Booster Club. Even though I am not a native of Ashland, it is my adopted home, and where my boys grew up. I expect that I will be a Tomcat fan for life. That is what makes this photo of Will's helmet and uniform seem so foreign to me.

Unaccustomed as I am to root for any football team wearing Boyd County's red and white colors, I will be there on the sidelines tomorrow morning cheering on the County boys as they travel to Milton, West Virginia for their first game of the 2009 Tri State Youth Football League season. It looks as though William will be lining up at fullback and defensive end for the Red and White. So, as a dutiful and proud grandfather, you know who this Ashland Tomcat fan will be pulling for...

Go County!

(Gosh, that still sounds strange!) :-)

Back To Work!

Paul Harris and I are packing up and ready to head for home after this morning's final sessions of the Shepherding the Shepherd Conference. Paul is a church planter and Pastor of Abundant Hope Baptist Church in Barboursville, WV. He missed the sign up period for the conference and was not going to be able to attend. But when Linda learned that she could not use any of her vacation days in August (due to registration at the college where she works) we got permission from the State Office to let Paul come and room with me.

I'm glad he did.

I have enjoyed the time we have been able to spend together. He is a fine young man who is doing all the right things at Abundant Hope. He is growing in his ministry and his wife, Michelle is is valued partner in ministry. One recent blessing for them is that Michelle has just been hired as a secretary in the West Virginia Convention State Office!

I've pretty much got my bag packed and ready to check out, but I just wanted to make one more quick post to thank the WVCSB for offering this ministry to we pastors and our families. We have all been blessed to have attended. I want to express my thanks to the folks of Westmoreland Baptist Church for allowing me the time away from the field to rest and refresh, spiritually as well as physically.

Lord willing, we'll be leaving here today shortly after noon. I'm looking forward to being back home with church and family.

It's time to get back to work!

Shepherding the Shepherd

Pipestem State Resort Park is the setting for this year's Shepherding the Shepherd Conference sponsored by the West Virginia Convention of Southern Baptists. What a beautiful setting for a two day time of worship, fellowship, reflection, and renewal. Our state convention staff recognizes the stress that full time and bi-vocational pastors carry in ministry. So they have developed this retreat as a time to minister to those who minister to others. It is surely appreciated by this pastor! The conference allows West Virginia Southern Baptist pastors, staff members and their families opportunity to come together in a peaceful location , at a very modest cost to the pastor. We have worship times, break out sessions, special guest speakers and one afternoon of free time to enjoy the lovely natural beauty of the park. Ministry to children and teens are also provided, while the adults are in their respective sessions.

This is the second year that the conference has been held at Pipestem. Before that, Canaan Valley had been the setting for several years. The beauty of this place is breathtaking and it is a perfect setting to get away and commune with our Creator. I did not get to attend the conference for the past two years due to other ministry opportunities, and I truly had missed the time of ministry and the opportunity to fellowship with my colleagues from around the Mountain State.

Our speakers this year are Steve Freeman who is Staff Evangelist of Colonial Heights Baptist Church in Virginia, and Dr. John Sullivan, Executive Director of the Florida Baptist Convention. Both of them have already ministered to me in a wonderful way through their messages in the opening session last evening. Freeman and Sullivan are pictured below.

Freeman is a tiny man in stature, but a giant in faith and ministry. Born prematurely in the 5th month of his mother's pregnancy, his twin brother died at birth. He, himself, stopped breathing several times in the first couple of hours of his life, and doctors prepared his parents for the fact that he, too, might not survive. But he did survive - only to be later diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy. Again his parents were prepared by the doctors prognosis that if he even lived to adulthood, Steve would not be able to contribute to society in any positive way.

Wrong!

His message last night, from Romans 8:28-29, was one of hope for those who are hurting and facing difficult circumstances. He drew on his life story and his recent diagnosis with cancer to illustrate the joy that one can have in Christ, even while facing the darkest moments in life. I can certainly attest to that truth through my own journey with cancer over the past 4 1/2 years. Steve also ministered to us in song. His testimony, his talent, and his very presence at this conference are unspeakable blessings.

Dr. John Sullivan wound up the meeting last night with a rousing message from 1 John chapter 3, challenging us to rekindle our passion for Christ. Sullivan, is a West Virginia native, hailing from Ansted, WV. Under his leadership, the Florida Baptist Convention has become one of the leading state Southern Baptist Conventions in existence. Sullivan is an eloquent speaker, whose knowledge of the Word and more than 50 years of rich experience as a pastor and denominational worker bring a wealth of benefit to all who know him. The last time I heard Dr. Sullivan preach in person was in a chapel service a couple of years ago at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. What a blessing he is! He is "old school" and stands as one of the tallest "pulpiteers" in the SBC today.

Worship music is being led by Westmoreland Baptist's own Randy Spurgeon, who although still a member of SBC, now works full time in the state office as the WVCSB Director of Church Music and Family Ministry. I was blessed to work with Randy for six years at Westmoreland and love he and his family dearly.

Well, it's time for breakfast (and I really don't want to miss that) and then on to a full day of blessing. I am already looking forward to getting back to work in evangelism and pastoral ministry in the place where God has graciously planted me.

Perhaps I'll be able to post again from the conference. Until then ...

The Summer of '69

It was the summer of 1969. It was two years after the Hippies in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco had caught our attention with their "Summer of Love". It was one year removed from the tremendous upheavals and national trauma resulting from the MLK and RFK assassinations, and the "siege on Chicago" at the 1968 Democratic National Convention. By 1969 our nation was mired deeper in protests and in turmoil as President Nixon's promised "secret plan to end the war in Viet Nam" instead turned out to be a plan to expand it to Cambodia.

I had just finished my freshman year at Marshall University and, like Benjamin Braddock (the Dustin Hoffman character in "The Graduate") I too was concerned about my future. The Summer of '69" came midway between the time I came to know Jesus on the Ides of March, and the night in October (two weeks before my 19th birthday) when I first met my wife to be. There was a five week period between the middle of July and the third week of August that summer, that stand out as a snapshot of who we were, where our society was, and where it was heading.

The five particular events of that period that stand out in my mind are as follows:

Apollo 11 was the first manned mission to land on the Moon. Who in my generation doesn't remember sitting spellbound before our televisions that afternoon, when Neil Armstrong became the first man to set foot on the Moon? "One small step for man. One giant leap for mankind." Remember the grainy black and white television feed of Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin bouncing around in the reduced gravity, while Michael Collins orbited above them in the Command Module?

Later that night, my girlfriend and I sat in the front seat of the '64 Dodge Dart, gazing at the Moon. Now, that in itself was not unusual, but that particular night the big bright orb seemed bigger and brighter than ever before. Not because of romance and young love - but because of the knowledge that two of my fellow Americans were walking on it! On that heady night, it seemed that no task was impossible for our nation when we set our minds to it.

Between the time of the Apollo 11 blast off and its landing at Tranquility Base, another incident made the news. It was here on earth, and it involved Massachusetts Senator (and brother of the former President) Edward M. ("Teddy") Kennedy and a young lady who was not his wife. The setting was on a little island called Chappaquiddick, near Martha's Vineyard. Kennedy had been at a private party with some friends and some young ladies known as "the Boiler Room Girls" who had worked in his brother, Robert's, aborted presidential campaign.

Kennedy left the party with one of the young ladies, a girl named Mary Jo Kopechne. Only God and Ted Kennedy know what really happened about 11:15 PM on that July night. What we do know is that Kennedy drove his 1967 Oldsmobile off the Dike Bridge and the following morning the body of Miss Kopechne was found in the submerged overturned car in the channel, off the side of the bridge. Shortly thereafter, Senator Kennedy walked into the Edgartown police station to report the accident that, by that time was nearly 10 hours old. The question on every one's mind and lips was "Why did he wait until the next morning to report the fatal accident?"

The story that Kennedy told the police changed a time or two, and he eventually pleaded guilty to a count of "leaving the scene of an accident, after causing injury". He was sentenced to the mandatory two months in jail, but considering "his age and his status, and lack of any previous brushes with the law", his sentence was suspended. He served no jail time, but he lost more than two months of freedom. Most political observers believe that his actions and the resulting scandal cost him the 1972 Democratic Presidential nomination, which eventually went to George McGovern. Now, forty years later he is called by many, "The Lion of the Senate", but he will forever have that fateful 14 letter word, "Chappaquiddick" in his biography.

With the Kennedy scandal and the successful Moon landing and return still swirling in our heads, August brought more drama, horror, and surprise.

News reports came in from Los Angeles on the discovery of the grisly "Tate/LaBianca" murders. Pregnant actress Sharon Tate (the wife of famous director Roman Polanski), along with Abigal Folger (coffee heiress), hair stylist, Jay Sebring, and two others were found brutally butchered at Tate's estate in the Hollywood Hills. Over 100 stab wounds were found in their lifeless bodies, and "Pig" had been written on the walls of her house with the blood of the victims. One day later, the bodies of Los Angeles businessman Leno LaBianca and his wife, were found in their home. "Helter Skelter", the title of a Beatles song, was written on the LaBianca's refrigerator in their own blood.

It was several weeks before the investigation led to the arrest of Charles Manson and his "family" of misfits, runaways, and gullible drug addicted kids who were living an old abandoned movie ranch outside of Los Angeles. The horror that was revealed as the story developed, could only make one wonder at the total depravity of man, and the ability of crazed charismatic characters to impact the lives of their mindless followers. The brutality of the Manson cult put fear in all of us as we began to wonder, how many other psychopaths might still be out there, and could we ever really be safe in our homes?

The third week of August brought the other two seismic events of the Summer of '69.

One was a "little" rock concert on Yasgr's farm near Bethel, NY that kinda went out of control. The "Woodstock Music and Art Fair" turned into an orgy of sight and sound as 32 bands played and crowds swarmed to half a million young people over the three day event. The rain and sea of mud added a surreal quality to the glut of sex, drugs, and rock and roll, like we had never seen before. Many feel that Woodstock was the defining moment of my generation. It certainly was an event that openly showed the changing mores of our society and publicly brought on the concept of "if it feels good, do it!"

The other event of that week was the landfall on the Mississippi Gulf Coast of Hurricane Camille. Camille was the most powerful Hurricane to have made landfall in U.S. History. It's devastating category 5 power brought unfathomable destruction to Biloxi, Mississippi and surrounding areas. 248 people lost their lives, and over 1.5 billion dollars of damages were done to property - a tremendous amount in 1969.

Pretty eventful five weeks - huh? Moon landings, scandals, murders, social upheaval, and natural disasters.

Wow!

The events of July and August, 1969 were unsettling to say the least. We've witnessed some other times of major historic events in our history, but one would be hard pressed to find a more jam packed period than the Summer of 1969. It was a summer of surprising events, yet with all that we witnessed in that eventful time period, none of it came as a surprise to Almighty God. The Bible reminds us, "To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven: ... I know that whatever God does, It shall be forever. Nothing can be added to it, And nothing taken from it. God does it, that men should fear before Him. That which is has already been, And what is to be has already been; And God requires an account of what is past." (Ecclesiastes 3: 1 & 14-15)

The inspired wisdom of Solomon here reminds us that even in changing times, there "is nothing new under the sun". Although times change and news cycles bring us breaking stories of all types, there is an unchanging God. He has a plan and He is Sovereign. Since none of us know what tomorrow holds, it pays to know who holds tomorrow.

I had just begun my walk with the Lord by the Summer of 1969. In the past 40 years, in the face of changing world and personal events, I have never regretted it.

How about you?

Papaw Stidham

It was Monday night of a revival meeting at the #20 Whitman Community Church in Logan County, WV. The evangelist was my father, Rev. Caudle Adkins, Jr. He had preached his heart out that second night of the revival, and as the choir sang several verses of "Oh, Why Not Tonight?" no one had responded to the traditional altar call. The pastor of the church was obviously concerned about those who were resisting the invitation. Although forty one long years have come and gone since that hot August night, I remember his words as if it were only yesterday.

"Don't put off what you know you should do tonight!" he pleaded with the lost souls who were present in the congregation. "You may not have another opportunity" he continued. "This revival is scheduled to go right on through this week, but you may not be here by week's end. By the time this revival is over, you may already have been called out into eternity. You could be gone. I could be gone."

By Friday night he was.

That Monday evening was the last time I saw my grandfather alive. On Friday afternoon of that same week, his life was snuffed out at the age of 59 by a massive heart attack. His passing was sudden and unexpected. It left a void in the lives of our family members and in his community. Now, over four decades later, I think about what a remarkable man he was. How proud I was of him then - how proud I am of him today - even as I approach the age he was when he died.

Jerry E. Stidham was my maternal grandfather. He crammed a lot of living into his 59 years - from his birth in "bloody" Breathitt County, Kentucky until his death in Logan General Hospital. His formal education was limited to high school, but his entire life was spent in broadening his horizons through reading everything that came into his hands. He had a thirst for knowledge, a gift of tact and diplomacy, and a heart to serve. All of those characteristics served him well throughout his life and varied careers.

Papaw Stidham's father was a coal miner and his uncle was a blacksmith in the mines. I am not certain what brought his father to Logan County, WV from Breathitt County, KY, but later in life, long after Papaw was gone, Mamaw told me she thought there might have been some kind of "incident" in Breathitt, that facilitated the move. That's all that she ever said on the matter.

My grandfather grew up in the coal camps of Logan County. He worked around the mines as a youngster, doing "gofer" work (go for this - go for that) and doing other menial tasks. He told me about a task he was once given as a young teen. The Superintendent told him, "Jerry, run down to Browning's house and let Mrs. Browning know that her husband was killed in a slate fall." I've often wondered what possessed the boss to ask a teenager to handle the delivery of such devastating news. Well, he did as he was told. When the lady opened the door he noted two children playing in the house, and one in her arms. He blurted out the news, and the woman passed out from the shock, falling to the floor with her baby still in her arms. He told me in the final years of his life, that he had learned a valuable lesson in that situation about dealing with people in a compassionate and tactful manner. That lesson served him well later in life, both in his secular work and that of the pastorate.

As soon as he was old enough, he followed his father and uncle into the shafts and tunnels, digging black gold under back breaking conditions. He worked his way up through various jobs with the Island Creek Coal Company around Holden, WV. His penchant for public service took him into several fraternal organizations, and eventually led to his election to the West Virginia House of Delegates where he represented Logan County for three terms. Eventually he went to work for the United Mine Workers of America, rising through various positions until he eventually served as an International Representative and Lobbyist for the Union.

Always a man of high morals, he was highly respected in the community. His years of serving others through his legislative, union, and benevolent work endeared him to his neighbors. His high moral ethics, however, were not tied to any particular relationship with God. Oh, he believed in God all right. He respected the Bible, and the Christ Followers (that is the ones whom he genuinely believed "had it"), but he had little time for organized religion, himself. He "left that to Mary and the kids." The religion he had "in his head" and his talent for writing poetry, led him to publish a new poem every Christmas season and have it printed into a personal Christmas card that he and Mamaw would send to their many friends. In fact, his poetic skills earned him an appointment by Governor Hulett C. Smith in the mid sixties as West Virginia's Poet Laureate.

Papaw's life was forever changed in February of 1961. That was when, under the convicting power of the Holy Spirit, he surprised Mamaw by getting up early one Sunday morning and going with her (uninvited) to church. As the choir sang, "When The Roll is Called Up Yonder", to every one's surprise, Jerry Stidham rose to his feet, walked down the aisle, knelt at the altar and gave his life to the Lord. He was later called into ministry and served several churches in Kanawha County and eventually, back in Logan, at the very church where he had received Christ.

As we remember him this week on the 41st anniversary of his "graduation" to Heaven, allow me to share with you a poem he wrote about the day he came to know Jesus.

On my knees at an altar one day
Crying "Lord, Lord show me the way,
Forgive me of sin and my evil ways,
And place me on a life that pays."

"Take me, Lord, and do as you will,
Thy Holy Spirit my soul to fill.
Make me clean, and give me Grace",
(And tears were falling from my face).

And as I prayed my burden did cease.
In its place came such sweet peace;
The tears I shed, just like a boy,
Became at once as tears of joy.

This is where my story begins,
I arose to my feet and faced my friends,
First time in life, to testify.
I'll never be ashamed to cry.

If he were still with us today, he would be 100 years old. However, his memory is frozen in time as a man, still in his prime, who loved his family, his community, his church, and his Lord. I wish my children and grand kids could have known my grandfather. I wish you could have known him. Even today I miss him. He made a great impact on my life as a young man, and his example has helped me try to be the kind of father and grandfather he was.

I miss you Papaw.

See you soon!

Powerful Teaching From A Four Year Old

I am thankful that both of our sons and daughters in law are followers of Christ. They have taught their four boys the truth of God's Word from day one. They have told the boys about the love of Christ, and sought to model Christian living before them. They have kept them in church where they could hear the Gospel from other loving teachers who have reinforced the message in their young hearts. As a result, the 9 year old and the 8 year old have given their lives to Christ. Nothing has given me more joy than to be allowed to baptize one of my own grandsons at Rose Hill Baptist Church where he and his family are members!

All four of our grandchildren have been taught to pray - a Christian discipline which I hope they develop and practice all the days of their lives. I want to tell you about one grandson's recent prayers, but first let me give you a little background.

Grandson number 3 (Canon, our four year old who lives in New Orleans) has been through quite a bit of adversity over the past two years. The problem first came to light when he began to cry and fuss about how his leg was hurting. He was in obvious discomfort, and after a trip to West Jefferson Parish Hospital's ER, the family was referred to New Orleans Children's Hospital.

X rays indicated that one of the bones in the lower part of his leg was broken.

Since he had not experienced any obvious trauma it was necessary to find the reason for the fracture. An MRI at Children's Hospital detected a tumor which had weakened the bone to the point that it had broken under normal activity.

Naturally the family was concerned and prayers were going up everywhere for the little boy. Surgery was performed to remove the non malignant cyst, but the surgeon cautioned Canon's parents that it was quite possible that the tumor would recur. And recur it has.

Twice.

They found in early July that the leg was broken a third time.

The close proximity of the tumor to the growth plate in the bone has necessitated prompt action to try to protect that important area of his little leg. And, as a result, Canon just underwent his third surgery for the same problem in the past two years.

He is home now, wearing a full leg cast, and getting around in a little pediatric wheel chair. If all goes well, in a couple of weeks he'll be back on his little walker.

That brings me back to prayer.

I'm not just talking about the intercessory prayer that our family and friends have sent up on behalf of Canon, but about his own prayer. Jay and Michelle have shared with all of their friends the words that Canon spoke on Friday evening as he began his bedtime prayers. Michelle says went like this:

"I have just been taught by my four yr old. As we prayed before bed tonight, he said "thank you God Jesus for my cast and my wheelchair and thank you for my surgery!" He is thanking God for the "negative" things in his life!"

In Matthew 21:16, Jesus said, “Have you never read: You have prepared praise from the mouths of children and nursing infants”?

Canon taught us all a pretty powerful theology lesson in his bed time prayer. Although he has never read 1 Thessalonians 5:17-18, he did exactly what the Apostle tells us we should all do:

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."

Isn't it wonderful to see such a basic spiritual truth - even if it is taught to us by a four year old?

I want to be like Canon when I grow up!

Why Can't We Just Rent These Things?

Well, I did it yesterday. I signed a contract to purchase my casket. It is very similar to the one pictured here.

Now please understand that I have no intention of using it anytime soon, but I think it prudent to prepare for the inevitable. And lets face it - nothing is more inevitable than death (Hebrews 9:27). Ironically, death is one of the most important facts of life, and the one for which we had best be prepared - physically and spiritually.

Linda and I began physical preparations for that final appointment several years ago when we purchased our mausoleum crypts at the cemetery high atop the top of the hill that overlooks our home and the nearby Ohio River. The decision to purchase the crypt, rather than traditional in ground burial plots, was not well received by our grown sons.

"A file cabinet?" one of them asked. "You're going to be buried in a file cabinet? WHY?"

The decision was a logical one in my humble opinion. First of all, it was cheaper. (I do like bargains - even those of the end of life variety). Another reason was that we had an excellent choice of interment spots, since the mausoleum was still in the construction phase when we made the decision to buy, and many of the most desirable spots were still available. Also, knowing how my boys understood my distaste for the never ending task of grass mowing, I thought they would surely understand the logic of my reasoning. After all, if I were buried in a regular cemetery lot, how could I ever rest in peace, with the knowledge that someone would have to mow the grass over me - again, and again, and again, and - well you get the picture! I also reminded the boys that, interred in the second row of crypts, I would have at least an 11 foot head start on other sleeping saints at the rapture.

In fact, I even used the subject of the rapture to witness to the cemetery sales person who wrote up our contract.

Linda and I had already decided it was time to make arrangements for our burials. The sales person seemed shocked when, while making a cold sales call, he heard me say, "Sure. Why don't you come over tonight?" He was at our door at 6:00 PM and was soon on his way "down the road to a sale". He must have been a new guy on the job, as he seemed somewhat nervous throughout the event. A few minutes into his pitch, I interrupted, "We want to buy, let's do it."

He explained that he HAD to go through his entire presentation, so we sat back and waited. We patiently listened to his sales spiel, and he finally came to the point where he asked us if we were ready to buy. That is when I decided to have a little fun with him.

"Can we just rent this thing?" I asked sincerely.

His reply was anticipated. "What?"

I repeated the question with the most serious facial expression I could muster. "Can we just rent this rather than buying?"

He finally admitted, "I don't understand."

That is when I explained to him that Linda and I were followers of Jesus Christ and that according to the Bible (1 Corinthians 15: 12-18 & 1 Thessalonians 4: 13-18) the burial spot is not the final destination of the believer. Therefore, we would not need this crypt forever, just a temporary thing until Christ comes back for his church. They could then sell it again to someone who had been left behind.

"N-n-n-no", he stammered. "We can't rent them, you have to BUY one."

"Well, if we HAVE to, I guess we'll go ahead and take it", I sighed. So the deal was closed. We signed the contract for the crypt, the opening and closing costs, and the bronze plaque that identifies who's remains lie behind the white marble wall.

Yesterday's purchase of the coffin was the next step in making the physical preparations for death. Having ministered to many grieving families (75 of them just in the past 6 1/2 years) I have seen many cases where those left behind were forced to make difficult and very expensive decisions at the time of need - at the passing of their loved one. And that is precisely the time when they were least prepared to make those important decisions.

On the other hand, I have known many folks who had already made arrangements for their funeral details. It always seemed to be a comfort to their survivors that the loved one had taken care of those details. That is why Linda and I are making these arrangements now. While we both hope to be around here for a long time to come, we do not want our children to have to make those choices and face those expenses at the time of our home going. Our plan is to also purchase Linda's casket before the year is out.

Now I said all that about the physical preparations for our deaths to get to the point of the more important SPIRITUAL preparations. Thankfully, both of us made those preparations about forty years ago. We were convicted of the fact that we were sinful by nature, and that sin separates us from God. Unforgiven sin separates us from God permanently! We realized that apart from help from a greater power than our own, we were doomed to an eternal separation from God. So we came to grips with the aforementioned scripture - Hebrews 9:27-28 " He has appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself. And as it is appointed for men to die once, but after this the judgment, so Christ was offered once to bear the sins of many. To those who eagerly wait for Him He will appear a second time, apart from sin, for salvation."

We turned from our paths to God's path and trusted Jesus Christ as our Savior, and the deal was settled for time and eternity. Apart from Christ there is no hope. According to the Apostle Peter in Acts 4: 12, "Nor is there salvation in any other, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved."

I hope you have made such preparations. Not just for death, but for what comes next! If not, then by all means, come to Jesus. Do it today.

THAT is what is really important.

Then you can ask the big question to the cemetery sales person, or the casket salesman - "Can I just rent this thing? I'm not going to use it forever!"