Introduction

Who is Pawpaw and why is he starting a substack?

Hi, I’m Pawpaw. According to my oldest granddaughter, I fix stuff. And know things. It’s nice to be recognized for your abilities.

I was born and bred in East Tennessee, the greatest state in the Union. My blood runs orange. My entire immediate family graduated from the University of Tennessee, mostly in engineering. Actually, we’re all engineers. Me, my dad, my wife, my son, my brother, my wife’s dad, her brother. We’re a bunch of emotionally starved analytical nerds.

Okay, maybe that’s overstating it a bit. Let’s just say we’re not exactly liberal snowflakes that get the sads every time something goes wrong. We’re problem solvers. We work hard. We build stuff.

Even my 3 year-old granddaughter understands structural integrity with her Lego Duplos. “You need to have to make a strong foundation.” I love it. The next little engineer in the making. Smart as a tack, started talking before age 2. I don’t mean baby talk. I mean adult talk. Seriously articulate. At her 3 year doctor checkup, she asked the doctor “are you going to put your stethoscope in your ears?” Yeah, I’m a little proud.

Speaking of foundations, my heritage is not my real foundation. Neither is my education or career. It’s not even my family. Sure, all that’s very important to me, but let me tell you about my real foundation: Jesus Christ.

He wrapped up His first sermon (Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5, 6, 7) with this:

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock.” — Matthew 7:24 ESV

I’ll be eternally grateful to my parents for dragging me, sometimes literally, to church every Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night. That’s what Southern Baptists do. We go to church. A lot. And I was exposed to the Gospel from day 1 of my life. As I later found out, that’s a tough thing to escape.

When I was 7 or 8, and I barely remember this, I “went forward” (or was it “went down”?) which is SBC-speak for getting up out of the pew and walking down to the front of the church where someone would talk to you about your relationship with Jesus. I’m sure the original idea was solid, but somewhere along the way little Baptist churches like mine were more into the process than the actual results.

Remember, I’m an engineer. Somewhere in the back of mind I’m pretty sure I totally believe that “process” and “results” are God-inspired language. Geek speak is about as close to speaking in tongues as I ever get, but it’s very spiritual to an engineer.

Anyway, at 7 I had no clue what I was doing. I was just following a couple of friends. Next thing I know my Pawpaw is kneeling beside me, saying some prayer and then told me I was “saved”. The next week I was dunked and that was it. Mission accomplished!

Now, before you think I hate all those people for dragging a little kid into a false sense of salvation, I want to be clear. I firmly believe young children can actually surrender their heart to Jesus and their salvation is just as valid as a 70 year-old drunk that repents and confesses Jesus as Lord. It’s just that for me, I didn’t. Not that I had a pile of sin to repent from. I was 7. I simply had no concept of salvation and why I even needed it. That’s not good.

I think salvation can can be sufficiently explained to children and most of them can probably understand it. I absolutely loved my Pawpaw and I know he only wanted me to know Jesus, but in his exuberance to see his grandson saved, he got in a big hurry and didn’t really make sure I was clear on what was going on. I’m sure he thought he did and I don’t fault him at all.

The bottom line for me is that as I grew into a teenager I began to understand what real salvation looked like: it was supposed to be transformative. There should have been something inside me, even at 7, that God changed. By the time I was 18, I was pretty sure that wasn’t the case for me, even though everybody around me thought differently. When you’re taken to a little Baptist church from the time you’re born you kinda get good at playing the game. And I realized that’s all it was to me: a charade.

God, being omniscient and all, had it all worked out ahead of time. I was stuck in the environment that had me complicit in the cover up, and He had a plan. We moved to Pittsburgh in ‘72. Do you know how many Southern Baptist Churches were in Pittsburgh in 1972? One. And it took us 2 hours to get there. And it wasn’t even a real Southern Baptist Church. It was SBC-lite. Which was really good for me. God was slowly moving me out of my comfort zone. All our neighbors… to the shock of my parents… drank beer! Aaaahhhhhh!!!!

From Pittsburgh we moved to São Paulo, Brazil. Talk about accelerating the process. If you think rural Tennessee to Pittsburgh was a culture shock, then moving to Brazil was a mega quake. Remember, this was mid 70s. No internet. Pan Am was still in business. It took us 6 months to find out Elvis died. And I had no idea that white tube socks weren’t fashionable in South America.

But a very cool thing happened. We found a sort-of-Baptist church (why are they always 2 hours away?) and God began to open my eyes to a world outside the confines of the religious traditions and creeds that I had grown up under. And guess what? It wasn’t of the devil! In fact, it was somewhat liberating to discover that not all those rules and regulations (especially the white-washed walls variety) were actually based in Scripture.

We met missionaries that might have been considered heretics back home. If my little Tennessee church had known how these missionaries believed and operated, they might have eased off on the Lottie Moon offerings. That’s sarcasm, btw. You should be adjusting to my style by now.

I’m not saying the missionaries were doing it wrong according to Scripture or that my home church was a bunch of Pharisees. I’m saying that the people actually doing the work had a better understanding of “go and make disciples” than I ever got from the 5000-miles-away-in-America view.

On one hand, the way they looked at the whole Jesus thing was basically… more supernatural. I was raised to think God just didn’t do weird stuff any more. Everything was explainable. Supernatural was relegated to Old Man Woodby finally getting saved or Miss Valentine barely escaping with her life when her car’s accelerator stuck in the church parking lot. But everyday supernatural? Nah. Too weird.

At the same time, it was more practical. They weren’t as concerned with checking all the Sunday School envelope boxes. They were focused on physically helping people so they would be more receptive to the Gospel. They didn’t demand people change their behavior before God had a chance to change their heart.

During my time in Brazil, God showed me just how dried up His people had become. We had our rules and traditions and creeds. Our methods were strictly regulated. Our behavior was watched like a hawk. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out many secretly kept all the “laws” written on a cheat sheet somewhere. I think it was easier to keep these made up rules than the principles Jesus laid out in the Sermon on the Mount. You didn’t really have to believe it, just do it. Did I say I didn’t think my home church was a bunch of Pharisees?

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’” — Matthew 7:21-23 ESV

We moved back to Tennessee in 1978. That ended up being what I call “reverse culture shock”. I love my parents. We found a church just a few minutes away. Actually there were 124 Southern Baptist churches just a few minutes away. Because none of them seemed to be able to get along. And this time I saw things a little differently. A different, broader perspective.

Even though I was thrust back into the lions’ den so to speak, I knew what to expect. And I complied. And with my new perspective came absolute internal torment. I knew I was pretending and I was out of excuses. I knew checking all the boxes on the Sunday School envelope was a load of crap without first checking the heart box. The funny thing is (not haha funny) no one ever asked or challenged me. Either I was a really, really good actor, or the whole church life was as shallow as a frog’s pee pee puddle. Probably a little of both.

Fortunately, God had me flanked with two prongs of attack. I was always involved in everything church (thanks Mom!): Sunday School, youth choir, visitation, RAs (Royal Ambassadors, think Baptist Boy Scouts), car washes, retreats… all the way through college, you name it, I was there. Prong #1 was constant exposure to the things of God.

Remember in Jurassic Park when the velociraptor had a buddy who blind-sided the guy? That was our Minister of Education. He was, literally, a God send. He was moving our church from the shallow frog pee pee puddle to the deep end of the cement pond. I began getting taught solid, and complete, theology, not only the works side of the coin, but the faith side. So while I was focused on playing the game, that velociraptor was waiting in the bushes, wearing that knowing little grin.

I learned the reason why I felt like all I ever did was pretend. I felt that way because it was true. There had never been a real transformation. I had never invited God to transform me, my inner being. “You must be born again” isn’t a metaphor. The inner man must surrender and die and allow God to bring it back to new life. Nothing less will do. You can’t fake it. You can’t generate it. You simply can’t do it. It’s an act of God.

And so during a revival meeting with a guest preacher bringing a sermon I don’t even remember, I finally surrendered. It was one of those everybody-bow-your-head moments… lift up your hand if you need Jesus. The reaction from my family and friends was almost tangible. I’m pretty sure “surprised” is an understatement.

I’ll never forget that April night in 1981. I sought out the man I trusted the most with my problem, our Minister of Education, and told him. He weakly objected for about 5 seconds… “Are you sure?” He either saw it in my eyes or God flat out told him to get on with it. I prayed, He prayed. We both prayed and cried and when I got up off my knees I knew the all-important-eternal-life-changing transformation was complete.

My Pawpaw was there and was overjoyed. He said something along the lines of “looks like this time it’s for real”. Absolutely, 100%, no doubt. He’s in heaven now, and we’ll celebrate all over again when I get there.

The outside of me doesn’t appear that much different. Well, I used to have more hair. Quite a bit more. I mean lifestyle. I’ve had the “works” side of the coin mastered pretty much my whole life. But inside? That’s where things changed… and not just a little. I’m talking total transformation. Old me dead. Welcome new me. My motivations, my thinking, my… perspectives… all the stuff that makes me tick, it changed. God changed me from the inside.

Sure, I still struggle with living a Godly life. Nobody said it would be easy. We still live in a fallen world within an imperfect body. The constant struggle between the new man and the flesh is real. See Romans chapter 7. But it’s a different fight now. Now I actually have the ability to win the battle.

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. — Galatians 2:20 ESV

So what do I want to accomplish with this substack? Honestly, I’m not totally sure. Maybe it’s therapeutic. Maybe God is leading me to share so other people can be blessed, encouraged, and challenged. I don’t even know at this point the frequency of articles.

I just have a simple plan and that’s to share some of my life and how my perspectives have been shaped over the years.

One thing I do know: if you have never experienced the transformative power of God Most High, there’s nothing stopping you but you.

He’s patiently waiting.

Jesus answered him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” — John 3:3 ESV

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. - 2 Corinthians 5:17 ESV