So Now What? Get Your House In Order

Gay marriage is now legal in the United States. So now what? How should the Church respond? The following is the second part of five answers to that question.


Get Your House In Order

Parents spend a lot of money in hopes that their little boy will be the next LeBron James or that their little girl will be the next Taylor Swift. This rarely turns out being a worthy investment. Even in the unlikely scenario that the kid does get famous, he usually has a very public celebrity meltdown because his parents were more like agents than sources of love, direction and wisdom.

If you want your kid to be like someone, here’s a better option.


If you’re familiar with the Bible, he’s the guy who was thrown into a den of lions by the government for praying. Years before that, he was taken from his homeland and forced to live as a slave in Babylon. Obedience to God made him and his three friends, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, stand out among the other slaves.

A few years ago I preached through the book of Daniel. I couldn’t help but think about my kids. Will they remain devoted to Jesus when they leave home for college or married life? Worse, would they react like Daniel if an invading army ripped them from their family and country? I hoped so. Perhaps I’ll be getting my answer sooner than I expected.

But here’s the thing. We haven’t been overthrown by an invading army. Yet. No, we’ve just morphed into Babylon all on our own. The world around us is quick to bow to our culture’s many 90-foot statues in the name of love and tolerance. Like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, will our kids be the ones standing up when everyone else mindlessly bows? Like Daniel, will our kids bow to the real King when everyone else carries on worshipping safe, pretend gods?

Parents, the answer to that question has a lot to do with the devotion that your kids see in you.

Theres a popular verse going around the Internet these days.

“Judge not, that you be not judged.” Matthew 7:1 (ESV)

Jesus said that. And now, so does every unrepentant sinner on the planet when someone dares to confront their sin. Here’s how it usually works.

Repentant Sinner: “Hey, so you’re robbing banks. You know, stealing is a sin. But I used to do it too. I once was a bank robber too but now I’m free from that life. You can get over this.”

Unrepentant Sinner: “Leave me alone! Jesus said don’t judge. Also, I’m having hate speech charges brought up against you. Have fun at your re-education camp in Terre Haute, Indiana.”

Taken in context, Jesus’ words aren’t a prohibition of discernment. He actually commands his followers to judge in verse six of this same passage. Instead, it’s the self-righteous variety of judging that Jesus condemns.

You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye. Matthew 7:5 (ESV)

Bruce Jenner becoming Caitlyn Jenner is wrong. But moms, don’t ramble on and on about how immoral and disgusting that is on your way to see Magic Mike. Cast the log out of your eye first.

So-called gay marriage is wrong. But dads, don’t yell about how it’s destroying society when you treat your own marriage and family like a chore that you only address if there’s enough time after you’re finished doing the stuff that you really like.

Parents, the government has proven to us that they have no clue what family is. So stop depending on them, or anyone else for that matter, to teach your kids about it. It’s up to you to show them.

Love each other in a Christ-like way.

Teach your kids the Bible.

And pray together.

There’s a good chance that when they’re on their own, your kids will do the same thing.

Even if it means a trip to the lion’s den.

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So Now What? Get Ready To Grow

Gay marriage is now legal in the United States. So now what? How should the Church respond? The following is one part of five answers to that question.


 Get Ready To Grow

I’ve read a lot of books about how to grow a church. Many of them focus on marketing strategies. Some even cross a line into manipulation and trickery. But there’s one word that I don’t know if I’ve ever read in one of those books.


A quick survey of the history of Christianity will show you that the church’s greatest impact has coincided with times of great tribulation. The book of Acts is a perfect example. It begins with a few scared disciples hidden away in a room after the persecution, death and resurrection of their Leader. Thousands and thousands of new disciples later, the book ends with another great leader on trial for his life and with Christianity on the verge of becoming a global movement. Tertullian said it best. “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.”

Within minutes of the Supreme Court’s ruling on gay marriage, church leaders were predicting persecution for believers. Many Christians agreed. Skeptics scoffed. But put aside your view of homosexuality and gay marriage for a moment. No matter what your opinion is, it’s hard to get around the idea that a tough road lies ahead for the Church.

Many churches will shrink in size. That means that giving will decrease. And it means that some large churches will become small churches. Or former churches. It’s been said before that church folks vote with their feet and their checkbooks. When the going gets tough, you can be sure that many church people will take their checkbooks, walk out and vote with the popular crowd.

On Sunday morning, a group of people stood up to interrupt one of the most popular pastors in the world. Six times they shouted him down before being escorted out of the building. But they didn’t leave alone. A significant portion of that pastor’s congregation left with them. Not because they agreed with the rude protestors. They left because they were afraid that something bad might happen. This serves as a perfect parable. A lot of people are okay with church. Until it starts to cost them something. And then they start looking for something safer to be okay with.

So where does the growth come in?

Here’s another word.


When I was growing up, revival meant that time of the year when you had to go to church every night of the week to hear a guy in a bad suit make you bow your head and close your eyes. Genuine revival is different. Genuine revival means repentance of sin. It means a renewed love for God and neighbor. It means restored relationships. And it means growth.

The kind of growth that you need to get ready for probably isn’t the kind of church growth you’re used to. It might not mean bigger buildings, hiring new staff members and bragging to your buddies at the next pastor’s convention about how many new members you got last month.

This kind of growth could mean that you have to leave your current building and start meeting in homes.

It could mean that your church looses it’s prominence in the community.

And when that happens, you’ll want to get discouraged. But just remember the book of Acts. At it’s core, it’s the story of early Christian leaders getting kicked out of town and taking their unpopular message with them until the entire world is turned upside down.

Take a kid and put him in a field of dandelions. Tell him to get rid of the weeds and he’s likely to walk around kicking everything until all of those little white seeds are gone. Or so he thinks.

Christian, our time to get kicked may be just around the corner.

But remember this. The more we get kicked, the more the message spreads.

So Christian, get ready to grow.

And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved. Acts 2:42-47 (ESV)

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The Proper Response To The South Carolina Church Shooting


When a tragedy like Wednesday evening’s church shooting happens, there are always two types of first responders. One group of first responders is made up of law enforcement and medical personnel who quickly arrive on the scene, usually at great risk, to do the job that few of us want. We need these first responders. Many times, after all of the dust has settled down, their stories are the ones that provide us with hope and inspiration.

There is another group of first responders and they provide us with something quite different. These first responders don’t usually show up at the scene. In fact, they rarely know anyone involved or any of the details of the situation. But still they respond.

They respond by using the tragedy as a trampoline of sorts to catapult their particular agenda into the spotlight. These are the types of first responders that we don’t need, especially from within the body of Christ.

Thursday morning I made the mistake of listening to people on the radio talk about the South Carolina church shooting. After a grand total of ten minutes, I heard the radio host say that the cops should look into a bomb threat that had been reported at a hotel near the church, “because that’s how it always happens in the movies,” and how the suspect’s haircut meant that he was likely a person of influence who was being protected by powerful people.

First responders at the scene with badges and medical bags are brave.

First responders on their keyboards and microphones are usually foolish.

Whoever restrains his words has knowledge,
and he who has a cool spirit is a man of understanding.
Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise;
when he closes his lips, he is deemed intelligent. Proverbs 17:27-28 (ESV)

I, like many people, am a fan of guns. But this tragedy isn’t our opportunity to go on social media and annoy everyone with posts about how this never would have happened if more people shared our passion for firearms.

Nor is this the opportunity to ramble on and on about tougher gun laws.

What we need is a third group of first responders. These first responders aren’t equipped with special training and may never be considered heroic but they are just as important as the men and women in uniform. And these first responders are devoted to something much more important than getting their opinions out to the public.

These first responders, before they do anything else, pray. They pray for justice. They pray for peace. They pray for the hurting.

And they cry with the hurting.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Romans 12:15-16 (ESV)

They do this because they don’t see what happened in South Carolina as a political event or an opportunity for social analysis. They see it for what it is. Evil. And as a result of this particular evil, nine people lost their lives.

Nine people.

Not nine Democrats or Republicans.

Not nine blacks.

Not nine church folks.

Nine people.

Nine people created in the image of God.

Look, we all have opinions and our own ideas for solutions when tragedies like this happen. That’s good. But at least for a few days we should keep them to ourselves. Or maybe we could just share them with friends over a meal.

The people impacted by this tragedy do not first need our opinions, theories or even our passions.

They need our prayers.

And our tears.

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Holy Political Correctness, Batman!


We live in a politically correct world. That’s another way of saying that we can’t really have fun anymore. The Great Commandment of our politically correct age is this. Everything you say is offensive. And the second commandment is like it. Everything you do is dangerous.

Case in point, the Daly family photo shoot.

If you haven’t heard by now, Roxanne Daly gave her husband Mike a unique Father’s Day present. She had Mike dress up like Batman and their toddler son dress up like Robin. Roxanne was the damsel in distress. This make believe damsel in distress was pretending to be tied to train tracks. But never fear! Batman and Robin were there to save the day. And it was all caught on camera to be enjoyed by the Daly family for years.

Unfortunately, the Politically Correct Jokers arrived to ruin the day with their two Great Commandments.

Everything you say is offensive.

Everything you do is dangerous.

Seeing as how this was a photo shoot and no words could be heard, the Daly family was cited for breaking rule number two. When they posted the pictures online, most people laughed, clicked the like button and carried on with their lives. But not the Politically Correct Jokers.

They were upset because, get this, the track was, wait for it, active. Gasp!

Here’s some advice for my politically correct friends. Active railroad tracks are not running with electricity. You won’t get electrocuted if you touch one. It just means that a train could come. And here’s the thing about trains. They’re not butterflies. They don’t just show up out of nowhere. They’re big. And loud. That means that you can see them coming with plenty of time to get out of the way.

Here’s an example.

Photographer: “Look at Mommy, Robin.”

Dad: “I hear a train and the rails are shaking. Let’s go stand over there.”

Family stands in the woods for five minutes and waves at the engineer, conductor and the three hobos on the last car.

Dad: “Great Scott it’s hot in this suit! Let’s get this thing over with.”

In usual political correct fashion, those who found themselves so offended have threatened the Daly family and even went so far as posting their home address online. Because nothing shows how much you care for the safety of someone like posting their address online and threatening to come visit in the middle of the night.

If Roxanne Daly would have done her research before this photoshoot she could have avoided all of this controversy and the hate of the Politically Correct Jokers. If she would have put on the Batman suit, made her husband wear a dress and said that her young son was self identifying as a female Eskimo with ties to ISIS, none of this would have happened. They could have taken their pictures high atop Mt. Everest and been just fine. Well sure, they may not have survived the ordeal but just think of how brave everyone would have said they were.

But instead, it’s just a regular mom, dad and son on some railroad tracks so the Politically Correct Jokers want to attack.

So I say, attack away.

But just be ready.

The Dark Knight and his side kick have never been ones to care about political correctness when it comes time to fight. But even they don’t put up a fight like a loving wife and mother who has had enough of all the senseless drama and keyboard crusading.

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A List Of Just Some Of The People Who Would Make A Better President Than Donald Trump


1. The Great Kabuki

2. M.C. Hammer

3. Dusty Rhodes (RIP)

4. The guy who played Turbo in Breakin’ Two: Electric Bugaloo

5. Herschel Walker

6. Rasheed Wallace

7. The Hay Pushing Lady

8. Keith Sweat

9. That nice lady with the red hair who ran the school for those girls on The Facts of Life. Edna, I think was her name.

10. Gregg Allman

11. Duane Allman (RIP)

12. Don and Arlene

13. Conway Twitty (RIP)

14. Hank HIll

15. Henry Hill

16. The cast of One Tree Hill

17. Vin Diesel

18. Whoever the 12-year old boy is who was responsible for writing the screenplay for all of The Fast and The Furious movies.

19. Whoever the 12-year old girl is who is responsible for writing all of Luke Bryan’s songs.

20. Nature Boy Ric Flair. Wooooooooooooo!

21. Bubb Rubb and Lil’ Sis. Woot, woot!

22. Flo Rida

23.That guy in the Statue of Liberty costume dancing on the side of the street telling you that his uncle’s place is your best option for quality accounting services and the selling of any gold that you may need to get rid of.

24. Screech!

25. Keith Richards (RIP)

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Time Tells A Story


A kid my age wasn’t supposed to like that sort of thing. I was captivated. I couldn’t help it.

My grandfather was a storyteller. He could tell a story better than anyone I’ve ever heard. On Sunday afternoons, after eating the massive lunch that my grandmother had prepared, we would all find a chair and listen to the master do his work.

He told stories about haints. A haint, in case you’re not from the south, is a ghost. I used to think that there was no such thing as haints but I’ve visited a few churches that cause me to have my doubts. His haint stories were the perfect balance of scary and funny.

He told stories about his time fighting in the South Pacific during the second World War. There were friends who died just after finding out that they’d be going home soon. There were crazy soldiers walking around with the ears of the men they had killed. There were enemy soldiers who came way too close to putting an end to my grandfather and his stories. Again, there was balance. These stories were part patriotic masterpieces and part horror. There was no humor.

And he told stories about quitting school as a kid to take care of his family after his father died. In spite of the hardships, these stories made us laugh. No matter how often we heard them.

The stories all had one thing in common. Each one highlighted the faithfulness of God. My grandfather was no theologian but, in his own way, he was doing more than just telling stories. He was preaching sermons. His sermons told of a God who is trustworthy. Even while bullets are flying in the South Pacific. Even when fathers die. And even when something called a haint appears to be walking in the middle of the road.

When the stories ended, my mom, my sister and I climbed back into our wood paneled station wagon for the hour long trip up Interstate 75 back to our south Atlanta home. Mom drove, my sister sat up front and I was always in the very back, where the party is.

My grandparents hated that. They would always remind us of some kid they saw on the news who had to have his spleen removed because he was riding in the back of a station wagon when it wrecked. As we drove off, the look of worry on their faces made it seem like they were shipping us off to the South Pacific to fight another war.

After being taken care of in a war, provided for through childhood and comforted from supposed southern ghosts, my grandparents were still consumed with worry.

This is exactly how worry works for all of us.

Time tells a story. The past, if we take the time to notice, always tells the truth. It tells of a faithful God who rules over all things for the ultimate good of his people. But the present can be a liar. Much like the diet that always begins tomorrow, the present sometimes tells us that the unraveling will begin tomorrow. Sure, maybe God was in control yesterday but tomorrow will be a different story. You will be on your own. You are in trouble.

Jesus speaks a word of truth to counteract the lies the present likes to tell us about the future.

“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Matthew 6:34 (ESV)

For a minute, that doesn’t look too comforting. It sort of reads like Jesus is saying, “Why are you worried about tomorrow? Worry about today. That’s where the real trouble is.”

Thankfully, he’s not saying that.

Each day has sufficient trouble. But that’s not all that it has. Read what Jesus told a suffering Paul about sufficiency.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Corinthians 12:9 (ESV)

The present likes to tell you a story about troubles coming in the future. That part isn’t a lie. You will have troubles in the future. But it’s only a half truth. Along with those troubles, God will give you grace. His grace. Sufficient grace. And it will be enough.

The Christian’s source of hope is never the absence of trouble. Rather, it is the presence of Jesus in the trouble.

If you listen carefully to the stories of your past, no matter how tragic they may be, you will be reminded of Jesus’ presence and the sufficient grace that comes along with it.

There is plenty to worry about. But Christian, there is no need to worry. That’s because the Author of your story is in complete control.


And he loves you.

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10 Things You Can Absolutely Count On Happening This Year At Your Church’s VBS


1. There will be a kid there who no one else knows. He will not be wearing a shirt and he will have a rat tail. His name will be Dakota and his mom will drop him off about 3 hours too early on the first day. You won’t see Dakota’s mom again until the end of the week. Maybe.

2. During music time, a bunch of kids will get into a fight over the one set of bongos in the box of instruments. Nobody wants to play the sandpaper. Nobody! And since when is sandpaper a musical instrument? I can sort of understand the triangle but sandpaper? Anyway, all of the kids with sandpaper and triangles will gang up to take the bongos away from that girl in the dress with ribbons in her hair who clearly does not deserve the bongos that were given to her. After all of the dust settles down, Dakota will have the bongos. And, somehow, everyone will be okay with that.

3. Each night’s snack will be some combination of juice, goldfish and those little cookies that you can wear like rings. It’s written in your church bylaws somewhere. Go check.

See. What’d I tell you?

Ours reads like this.

Article 2.2.3a: Dietary Matters

Whereas upon the receiving of refreshments during Vacation Bible School, all children shall be given goldfish, ring cookies and juice.

4. On the Sunday morning following Vacation Bible School, when all of the kids and workers wear their VBS T-Shirts with jeans, your pastor will be in on the action too. Sort of. He’ll skip the jeans and just wear his bright orange shirt that says Adventure Time With Jesus! with his suit. Nothing is more pastoral, and I mean nothing, than a VBS shirt worn over a dress shirt and tie combo with slacks and dress shoes.

5. Somewhere around 2:30 on Wednesday afternoon, you’ll begin to wonder if you have some previously undiscovered disease that makes you want to take a six hour nap right there on the bathroom floor. Don’t worry. You’re fine. What you have is simply a result of being around too many screaming kids. It’s not a disease. Yet. A new drug by the name of Stopscreamingyall is pending approval from the FDA. Look for the commercials during this year’s Super Bowl.

6. At the end of each night you’ll find yourself in that awkward position where only one kid (Dakota) is waiting for his ride to come. Should you wait with him? You waited last night. Shouldn’t someone else have to deal with this get the opportunity to minister to young Dakota? Sure enough, you’ll be the one waiting and having to find the right words to say to Dakota’s tardy mother.

Here’s what not to say: “Look lady, we end at 8. At night!! Not in the morning. I’m missing Bobby Flay for this.”

Here’s a better option: “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that from now on we’re having our VBS at the Huddle House so you can just start dropping Dakota off there.”

I know how cruel and unmissional that sounds but it’s really best for all parties. The Huddle House could use the extra business and or help in the back and the rest of the kids at VBS would really like to play the bongos.

7. A lady will tell you how thankful she is for offering this for her grandchildren. She’ll say that she’s never heard of your church before. She’ll ask what time your Sunday morning services start. She’ll say that she’s looking forward to coming this Sunday. You won’t see her again until next year’s VBS.

8. Kids will run through the halls of your church. They will run like there’s no tomorrow. And they’ll do so while wearing hats. Or, in Dakota’s case, shirtless. One of the longtime members will see this and he will not be happy. At what he thinks to be just the right time he’ll stand up and say, “Hey! You boys quit running in here. This is God’s house.” He’ll then take another puff off his cigarette and sit back down in his pew.

9. On the first night, while all of the kids are getting their name tags, there will be a problem. There will be one kid who just sort of shows up without any adult supervision. You’ll ask him his name so that you can properly keep track of him.

“What’s your name little fellow?”

“Pooh Pooh.”

“I’m sorry?”

“For what?”

“No. What’s your name?”

“Pooh Pooh.”


You spend the rest of the week calling the child names like Buddy, Dude and Guy. Everyone else just sticks with his proper name.

Pooh Pooh.

10. By the end of the week you decide to make some changes. Like moving to a church with no one under the age of 75. Or taking up a new drug. Either way, you won’t be doing VBS again.

But you’ll be back.

And so will Pooh Pooh.

And Dakota.

But I’m not sure about Dakota’s mom.

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Your Church’s Youth Group Is A Complete Waste Of Time And Needs To Be Put Out Of Its Misery


Your church’s youth group is a complete waste of time and needs to be put out of its misery. If you care anything about your church, you’ll do everything you can to get rid of the youth group as quickly as possible.

I’ve spent my whole life in church so I’ve seen my share of youth groups. Without exception, every youth group that I have encountered has served no purpose other than to give teenagers a place to sit and complain while their parents are in church. Here are some other things that youth groups have in common. Again, not a majority of youth groups. Not 75 percent of youth groups. Every youth group.

Youth groups are like religious gangs where every week there is a turf war between the kids that go to School A and School B or between the kids who are friends with Ex-Boyfriend A and the ones who are still loyal to Ex-Girlfriend B.

Youth groups are Nickelodeon with a few Bible verses. It’s all entertainment, all the time. Everything, including the Bible portion of the show, is silly. Rather than raising expectations, youth groups pander to the lowest common denominator of spirituality by settling for fun, games and clichés.

Youth groups give parents a false sense of security by making them believe that simply keeping kids busy for an hour or two a week will build them a solid enough foundation to get them through life. It never does.

In short, youth groups do not produce disciples. Instead, they churn out thousands of self-segregated, overly amused and deceived teenagers.

So like I said, if you care anything about your church and the future of the young people in it, do everything you can to get rid of the youth group.

And replace it with a youth ministry.

A youth ministry isn’t too spiritual for fun and games. There’s plenty of that. But it’s never the final objective. Rather, a youth ministry is concerned with, well, ministry. That means ministry to each other, even if each other means talking to kids who are different. And it means ministry to others, whether those others sit at a lunch table by themselves or they live in a mud hut in Romania.

But a youth ministry is more than just a place where teenagers get along with each other and do nice things in the community and around the world. It’s where the gospel is taught. Clearly. Passionately. And so persuasively that students can’t help but live it out the rest of the week.

Youth groups make me sick. And I think that they make Jesus sick too. Nothing in regular church life is more disturbing than a room full of bored kids who hate each other yet claim to love Jesus.

But youth ministries are some of the best things I’ve ever been around. They are never perfect. And every member isn’t best friends with each other. But they do at least love each other. And their neighbor. And, most of all, Jesus. And it shows.

Jesus never told us to keep students busy, entertained or occupied.

He did however tell us to make disciples.

And that’s one command that is nearly impossible to obey in the context of a youth group.

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I Sure Am Going To Miss That Old House


When you live in San Francisco and people come to visit, they want you to take them to the Golden Gate Bridge. Every town, no matter how small, has it’s own Golden Gate Bridge, the place where you take people when they come from out of town. In the tiny town of Warm Springs, Georgia during the early morning hours of Wednesday, June 10, the Golden Gate Bridge burned down.

It was called the Bulloch House. And for the better part of a decade, it was my second home.

I was a single man living in rural midwest Georgia. I knew how to cook two things, cereal and hot dogs. Occasionally, as you might imagine, that got old. Several times a week, I went out looking for food. But it was more than just food that I was looking for. In some small way, I was looking for home. When I first walked in to the Bulloch House, I found what I was looking for.


I had a lot of meals there over the years. I ate with preachers there. I went there for lunch after church on Sunday afternoons with what seemed like everyone else in midwest Georgia. But mostly, I ate there with friends.

Chris and I talked about everything that was wrong in the world of music while we ate fried chicken.

While the country was still trying to figure out who would be our next president after the 2000 elections, Merv and I went over the worst case scenarios while eating mashed potatoes. The lady who wrote The Hunger Games must have been listening in on us.

Rob and I spent hours there trying to sell Kyle and Charlie on the excellence that is Georgia Bulldogs football while eating six layer chocolate cake. We were unsuccessful. But the cake was good.

Not everyone liked the Bulloch House as much as I did. As they saw it, there was no point in going out for food when Grandma and Mom had cooked something better at home with what Dad and Grandpa had grown in the garden. Maybe they had a point. But geography, Parkinson’s Disease and the grave made it impossible for me to get one of those home cooked meals that went straight from the garden to the table. That’s why I went to the next best thing.

My second home.

The Bulloch House.

It’s been almost ten years since I left midwest Georgia. My first place of residence after leaving was the big city of Louisville, Kentucky. It didn’t take long up there before I went on another search for food. I found a couple of restaurants that featured authentic southern cooking. But it wasn’t the same. The food was overpriced. It didn’t taste as good. And the people weren’t as nice. For the most part, authentic southern cooking in a big city is along the lines of fresh lobster Missouri. It’s just not possible.

Eventually, we made it back down south. One of the first trips that I went on with my friends from church was a long drive halfway across the state to eat at the Bulloch House. This time, instead of talking about sports and politics, I was sitting next to my wife, cutting up chicken for my two sons and sharing laughs with new friends.

Things have changed a lot since the days when I called the Bulloch House my kitchen. I don’t eat out that much anymore. As I see it, why go out when my wife can cook what I grew in the garden. I have become my grandparents. I don’t need a second home anymore.

But back then I did need a second home. And I’m happy to say that it was the Bulloch House. I sure am going to miss that old house.

It’s been said that you can’t go home again.

Now that the Bulloch House is gone, that’s never been more true.

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