Bad Preacher Dreams


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We all have recurring nightmares and dreams. It is usually some embarrassing situation about showing up to class wearing only underwear, or giving a presentation in a bathing suit. I still have the dream about being enrolled in a class at Texas A&M and forgetting to attend that class all semester long until finals, when I realize I have to go take a final for a class that I forgot I had.

Preachers have those types of dreams as well. For me, the dream usually involves having to preach and NOT having my bible with me, along with being inappropriately dressed for the occasion of preaching.

I had one such dream last night. Loss of Bible. Unprepared. Inappropriate clothing. But it gets worse than that. I had to preach at the funeral for a horse. Apparently  this horse was quite popular in the town in which I lived, in the dream. Everyone knew this horse, well, except me. In fact, I didn’t know of the horses existence until it ceased to exist in the dream. Everyone said I would do just fine preaching at the horses funeral.

I was really worried about what I would say about the horse. In the dream, I figured that I could open my sermon telling about my favorite childhood pet, Joey Jet, and how everyone has a favorite pet. Then I would transition smoothly into talking about the deceased horse, G. Shepherd, that was the horses name. But that is as far as I got in my sermon because I really couldn’t talk about how G. Shepherd was a great Christian and all, because G. Shepherd was just a horse. What was I supposed to do? How was I going to tie the gospel into the eulogy about this rather special horse? What made this horse so darn special? Why did I agree to do this funeral in the first place? Didn’t I have some policy about only preaching for human funerals? What was I thinking?

And then there was the problem of my clothing. I could have sworn that I had grabbed my blue blazer when I left the house for the funeral. Yet, even wearing that, without a tie, was completely inappropriate. When the thousands of people started showing up to the ultra-big auditorium where the funeral services were being held, I realized that I would have been fine with my blue blazer and cowboy boots. But I wasn’t wearing my blue blazer. I had a bath robe. It was a white bath robe with yellow polka dots. Where in the world did this come from? I don’t own a white bath robe with yellow polka dots? O my…

I tried to make an excuse about my appearance, so I could leave and go home and change, but no one would let me. They said they knew I was poor and if all I had to wear was a white bath robe with yellow polka dots to preach at G. Shepherd’s funeral, that was OK by them (I think most of them were rednecks, but I’m not sure).

But then… what would I preach on? I thought about the passage of the four horsemen of the apocalypse….

And the order of worship? Where was the order of worship?

I tried to find out some of this from the funeral directors, who said that I just needed to go sit in the balcony behind the podium until it was time for me to preach. They were taking care of the rest.

The balcony had a lot of seats in it and it was filling up quickly. Thankfully, they had a seat reserved just for me with a sign on it saying “Timothy J. Hammons’ Seat.” Great. Everyone would know who the guy was wearing the white robe with the yellow polka dots. How embarrassing.

On top of all this, James Welch (preacher and pastor of a church in New Orleans) had all his bicycle equipment stored in the balcony taking up at least 30 seats. Apparently he was running a bicycle shop on the side as well as pastoring a church in the Big Easy. I was really afraid that people would just start taking the clipless pedals, and the gears, and the wheels and frames. But given that most of the people were rednecks, and only interested in the funeral of the dead horse, G. Shepherd, they had no interest in bicycle equipment.

I found my seat and sat down. This entire ordeal was quite troubling and I wanted nothing to do with it.

Then I woke up! Thanks goodness.

And if any of you have any ideas about me preaching at your deceased pet’s funerals, forget about it. I have a written police never to do so! See below:

WRITTEN POLICY: Timothy J. Hammons does not preach at the funerals for animals.

All About That (Upright) Bass


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Had to post it, I love it too much! Love Kate Davis’s voice and accent. She is truly blessed.

I also love the irony that when I was listening to it again tonight, there was an add just below the video for Macy’s, with a stick-figure Barbie doll, photoshopped model advertising their Black Friday sales. Quite honestly, the model looked more like a skinny boy than a woman.

Chili Rellenos for Thanksgiving


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This is the time of year that I start thinking about chili rellenos. Most people start thinking about turkey, stuffing, being stuffed by turkey and stuffing and football. But not me. I think about chili rellenos, because my mother had the world’s best chili relleno recipe.

It was so good that she always cooked chili rellenos for us on Thanksgiving instead of turkey, gravy and stuffing. Well, not always, but for the most part. She would save the turkey for Christmas.

Don’t think for a moment that we missed turkey at all. If you spend any time in the real world during this season, you will get plenty of turkey. In fact, that was one of the reasons my brothers and I preferred chilies. We didn’t want to drive all the way to Lufkin, Texas for more turkey. But chili rellenos? Absolutely worth the drive.

I miss those meals. I miss walking into the house and being hit with the wonderful aroma of chilis, beans and tortillas. I miss seeing my mother working so diligently to skin, batter, stuff and fry the poblanos. I miss her making the special tomato sauce she added that made them the best in the world. I miss her telling me which ones were hot, and which ones were not. I always wanted the hot ones. I miss sitting around the table with my brothers, knowing that we were being treated to a delicacy while the rest of the world was feasting on… turkey… again! I miss the leftovers that night and the next day. Just like everything else, the chilies were just as good the next day.

I can see her in her wheelchair, delicately laying the poblanos in the frying pan. I remember how she would separate the yokes from the egg whites to make the batter. I remember how she would pour in her special ingredient to make the sauce. I can remember waiting for that special moment to say the blessing and feast like kings. Those were truly special days. I miss my Mom doing all that. I miss the time with my brothers. I miss the feeling of being home again. Those were special times.

I know for many that Thanksgiving without turkey is tantamount to national heresy, but not for me. If I had my druthers, which I rarely do, I prefer my mother’s chili rellanos on Thanksgiving Day.

Two Changes I Wish the ESV Would Make


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I’ve been toying with the idea of switching from my New King James Version Bible translation to the English Standard Version. If you have been around in evangelical circles for long, you know that the ESV is the new kid on the block concerning acceptable translations. In fact, Ligonier Ministries has so much confidence in the ESV that they shifted their Reformation Study Bible from the NKJV to the ESV.

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Post Election Thoughts


I know that many are rejoicing about the gains the Republicans made in Tuesday’s election. I’m less than enthusiastic about the results because we’ve been here before. Remember, under George Bush, we had a Republican led house and senate, and the Republicans completely blew it by not acting with the power they had been given.

I really don’t have a lot of hope that the next Congress will be any different. Yes, there were some conservatives elected, but nothing will really change as long as moderates, like Mitch McConnell, remain in power. They will seek to water every thing down, making the legislation Democrat Lite.

This reality reminds me of one of my favorite songs: “my hope is built on nothing less than Jesus Christ and His righteousness…”

Is Your Church Safe?


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I was talking with a friend a few weeks ago about a church she used to attend. She stopped going because the pastors, who called themselves “team leaders,” never wanted to deal with any topics that might be controversial, like abortion. In fact, their stated goal was that they wanted the church to be safe for people.

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National Organization for Women Proves the Point: Women Are the Weaker Sex


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Three, two, one! “Misogynist!” I’m just anticipating the response of those who support the National Organization for Women in even addressing the topic for two reasons: first, I’m a man and lack the proper plumbing to speak about women’s issues at all, and secondly, since I’m a man, I’m already a misogynist simply because my cultural trappings and upbringing… blah, blah, blah.

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