Originally posted on Facebook on Saturday, March 27, 2021.
In Week 13 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for this moment of reconciliation.
At points throughout my life, I've been a real piece of work; selfish, self-willed, self-absorbed -incorrigible. This often put me at odds with my father and for years we didn't speak. I thought everything was his fault and truth be told, there were things he contributed to our rift. But after I submitted my life to Christ, God brought me to accountability for my error and gave me His desire for reconciliation.
It started with making a phone call, then offering an apology. Every step was difficult, awkward and each time it required me to revisit my anger and my error and then bring my thoughts captive to Christ and to be obedient to His leading. I stumbled a lot, but by His grace I kept going. Phone calls turned into conversations and conversations blossomed into a relationship.
I will never forget the phone call when my Dad asked me to be the best man in his wedding. I can scarcely think of a time I've been more honored. Through all the pain we suffered, through all the damage I had personally caused, God gave me my father and to my father He restored a son.
Originally posted on Facebook on Sunday, March 21, 2021.
In Week 12 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Judge Lydia Quarles.
Starkville Youth Court Judge Lydia Quarles understands the trappings of the criminal system and sees first-hand how a single bad decision can snowball into devastating, lifelong consequences. Wherever appropriate, Judge Quarles attempts to help point young people that come before her bench toward a productive path and toward resources that help them to avoid becoming entangled in the system. So, rather than issue purely punitive sentences, Judge Quarles has referred them to organizations such as the J.L. King Center as an opportunity to get on the right track.
The youth court referral program at the J.L. King Center is called the Leadership Academy. And, we are so fortunate to have the leadership of Rev. LeRoy F. Davenport to head this program. There, the focus is to support these young people and provide them with tools to succeed in school, the workforce and to be leaders in our community. We work with them as we would our own children; meeting after school with a snack, going over homework, revisiting the highs and lows of their day and discussing strategies to make the next day better.
Our justice system could benefit from a lot more of this, where well-being is the aim. I believe we'll be better as a community for it. I'm thankful. #52WoG
Originally posted on Facebook on Sunday, March 14, 2021.
In Week 11 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Lorin Langston Chancellor.
When I mentioned the work that Alison Buehler and a group of passionate volunteers were doing to maintain the operation of the J.L. King Community Center after a loss of federal funding, Lorin Chancellor of Sullivan's Office Supply kindly offered assistance. As an interior designer, she brought together a team to reimagine the center as a bright, innovative space made for inspiring minds.
As planning began, the Chancellor family was met with the dreadful news of a child being diagnosed with leukemia. In the midst of a time I can only imagine was soul wrenching, Mrs. Chancellor took the time to recruit the aid of others to keep the project moving forward while she was away. She also reached out to her personal contacts with other companies to find furniture that could be donated to the center.
It was an extraordinary act of caring that is an example to me and a beacon of hope. I am grateful. #52WoG
Originally posted on Facebook on Saturday, March 6, 2021.
In Week 10 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Cornall Jones.
"THUMP-FSSSSSSSSSS!!", was the sound I was suddenly greeted with as I turned the corner behind the Cracker Barrel just off I-55 in Jackson, Mississippi.
Metal hitting stone could be felt when one of the wheels descended into a crater of a pothole. The hissing that followed was a dead give-away that the tire had ruptured. The impact ripped a tear so large that the air was escaping completely. As I maneuvered in an attempt to avoid losing a second tire to the hole, before having gone another yard, the car started to lean to one side.
I get out to find the car resting precariously on the rim. I then set about the task of changing the tire. It's the middle of a Mississippi summer day. It's hot. And, it seems like everything is piled in the trunk. So, before I can get to the spare, I have to empty the trunk and then only to find that the spare is flat!
Less than two hours prior, I was sitting in an ambulance with my mother, feeling helpless because I could do nothing more than offer her moral support. I came to Cracker Barrel to pick up one of her favorite dishes in an effort to do something helpful, however small. But, here I am, behind the restaurant with her food in the car, with a flat tire and a flat spare. What's more, is it's nearly 3 PM and my son has a football game later that night in a town more than two hours away.
I'm having a great day.
My frustration is reaching a boiling point and I remember to pray. By God's grace, I regain enough composure to return to the task at hand and find that the spare only needed air and one of the many items we had in the trunk was an air compressor. After getting the spare in place, I hobble to the nearest tire shop, Firestone Complete Auto Care in Jacksonian Plaza.
They're packed. I have to go behind the shop just to find a park. The lobby tells an even more grim story. Yet, almost immediately, I am kindly greeted by a young man, "Welcome to Firestone. How may I help you?" I tell him I've had a flat and need a replacement tire. He replies, "Can you leave it overnight?" I explain that I live out of town and trying to get to my son's football game, so I'd be happy to wait if there was any chance he could squeeze me in. He replies, "Man, all my bays are full and we're backed up but I understand what it's like to have kids playing ball. I can't make any promises, but if you're willing to wait, I'll do the best that I can."
About thirty to forty-five minutes later, a technician comes in the lobby on break and I overhear the young greeter ask him, "Can you man the front for me?" to which the tech jokingly retorts, "Dude. I'm on break." He says, "I know. Help me out." I could hear the mutual respect for each other in their voices. The tech relents, "Gone head, man." The young man, who I now have come to learn his name is Cornall Jones and is also the Service Manager, runs over to me and asks, "Are you parked in the back? Do you have a jack?" He then proceeds to go outside, remove the old tire from the rim, fits the rim with the new tire, balances it and then manually jacks up the car -outside in the heat and mounts the replacement tire himself.
Mr. Jones returns to the lobby, clothes dotted with sweat and with hands soiled from his work. Handing me my keys he says, "Mr. Luckett, I think we've got you going. I hope you make it in time to see your boy." Because of his kindness, dedication and extraordinary efforts, I did. Not only that, but it changed the trajectory of my day and left an impression I am recounting two years later. His gesture was an excellent example of the impact we can all make even in the course of a regular work day by doing all we do, including our work with love. I'm grateful. #52Wog
Originally posted on Facebook on Sunday, February 28, 2021.
In Week 9 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Jackie Rogers.
I'm preparing to pull out of my parking space when I hear a friendly "beep beep" and a car comes to a stop directly behind me. A lady gets out and starts walking towards my window. As she approaches, I wonder, "Is my tire flat? Have I left a door open?"
As I roll down my window, she begins, "You probably don't know who I am, but I know you and your wife. I've watched how you interact with your family. I just want you to know that you're a wonderful father and you're a blessing to me."
Her words came on one of those days where, despite my best efforts, I felt like I was failing on every front.
She then continued, "There is something I want you to have." She goes to her car and comes back with a small wooden cross filled with small polished pebbles. She told me that it was handmade and wanted me to keep it as a reminder that God sees our work, even if it seems like no one else does. And, when we keep our trust in Him, He will take it all, including the rough places of our lives and make something beautiful.
That cross Mrs. Rogers gave me hangs above my desk to this day as a reminder to "keep going". I am grateful. #52WoG
Originally posted on Facebook on Sunday, February 21, 2021.
In Week 8 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Ed Hardy.
I don't believe I've ever had a conversation with Ed Hardy. But, his life spoke volumes to me.
Ed Hardy and I both attended Mississippi State and though I'm not sure we even had one class together, he was somehow always on my radar -someone I took notice of around campus and watched from a distance for years.
This was during a time in my life when I was utterly lost, worldly and grappling with my own identity. While I was floundering, deeply insecure and pathetically trying to live out some fantasy I had seen in BET music videos, Ed was anchored. I observed him to be purposed, diligent, studious, friendly and honorable in all his dealings. There was a firm "uprightness" about him that was seemingly apparent to everyone, so much so that there was a widespread rumor that he and a young lady who were allegedly "talking" parted ways because he refused to have sex before marriage. As people talked about that, they laughed. I laughed. But for reasons I couldn't explain then, I deeply respected him. I wanted to be like him but simply lacked the Strength and courage to do so.
What I've come to understand, is that Ed Hardy's extraordinary walk, resolve and strength come directly from his relationship with Jesus. I don't have to talk to him to know that. To this day, I admire how he lives out his faith as a husband and father. (There's a lot of things you can fake but the countenance of your wife and family aren't among them.) Since before I had a relationship with Christ, when I was in sin, Ed Hardy modeled a more excellent way. God used his life to demonstrate to me that by His grace, better was possible. I'm thankful. #52WoG
Originally posted on Facebook on Saturday, February 13, 2021.
In Week 7 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Pastor Johnny Buckner.
It was the largest interracial gathering I had ever seen in Starkville besides a Mississippi State football game. And there I was, at the podium of First Baptist Church giving the commencement speech before hundreds of high school graduates and their families. As a youth minister, I was in my element speaking to young people. But leading up to the event, I wondered, no -worried, whether I would resonate with white youth in the same way as blacks. It was then that I was reminded that what mattered was not their reception of me but of Jesus and He is universal.
So by the grace of God, I focused on lifting Him up, sharing how in the midst of very difficult challenges I faced after high school, it was Jesus who helped me through. I tried to share God's heart for them and encouraged them all to develop a personal walk with Jesus, closing by leading the audience in the hymn, "What a Friend We Have In Jesus." As I began to take my seat, I remember Pastor Gregory Jones sitting on one of the front pews with a straight face and a smile in his eyes, motioning a silent fist pump the way a father would celebrate a child's winning performance. It still warms my heart to this day.
I share this because the real story is this was but one of many times where Dr. Gregory Jones and Pastor Johnny Buckner had been partners in crime for the betterment of our community. See, Dr. Jones was supposed to deliver the commencement. Johnny Buckner had used his influence and platform to arrange it in an effort to bring the disparate and fractured parts of our community together. They later jointly decided that Dr. Jones would step aside to allow me to deliver it, having an eye toward handing the baton to others who could carry their vision into the future.
Decades before the George Floyd marches or Black Lives Matter, Pastor Johnny Buckner was working across racial and denominational lines with intentionality to bring mountains low and valleys high so that we all might share equal footing at the cross. He sought unity in Christ unhindered by worldly schisms.
Further evidence of this were the "youth nights" Pastor Buckner would organize at the old Coca Cola warehouse off Hwy 12. It was a place where youth groups from different churches, different denominations and different races from all over Starkville and beyond would come together. When I was the Youth Pastor at Greater Ebenezer, I loved taking our youth group there. It opened whole new worlds of fellowship and function in the body of Christ. We had some of our best Bible studies and discussions after these events.
I also remember when Pastor Buckner planted a church in, what was then, the old Burger King log cabin. I and Jannie Thompson often liked to take the Greater Ebenezer kids off campus because our group was teenagers and it was helpful to have a space that the kids could call their own, if only for a short time. Pastor Buckner opened the building to us, giving complete and unrestricted access to the facilities. It was one of the first times I had seen a Christian act like the church wasn't theirs but Christ's. Moreover, it was the first time as a black person I had gone to a "white church" and been treated as though the church was just as much for us as for them, rather than being told to sit at someone's footstool.
I am led to say how discouraging it must be to dedicate yourself, to give so much, to suffer loss (that by the Spirit I know that he did) and then to endure accusations such as "All white people are devils and racists," as though your work was for nothing and went completely unnoticed.
Well, I noticed.
And, for this reason, I can never go down the path of categorically condemning an entire group of people. Because of his life and ministry I know that the color of one's skin does not make them an enemy. "We wrestle not against flesh and blood.." It does not determine who they are. "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new." -II Corinthians 5:17
The life of Pastor Johnny Buckner is proof.
He is not my enemy. He is my friend. I am grateful. #52WoG
Originally posted on Facebook on Saturday, February 6, 2021.
In Week 6 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Vernon and Carolyn West.
Mr. and Mrs. West are the owners of West Memorial Funeral Home. When I began my business in Starkville more than 20 years ago, they were one of my very first clients. But beyond giving a young entrepreneur a chance, they also demonstrated a personal concern for me and my professional development. Even though they were clearly very busy running their own business, they made it a point to take time to visit with me and impart wisdom.
I remember on one particular occasion, I was underneath a desk working on a computer, Mr. West casually walked in and said, "You know Paul, to be successful you have to change how you think about money. Don't think about what a dollar can buy but what it can earn. For every dollar you have going out, try to make it bring at least 3 to 5 dollars in."
Moments like that not only shaped me as an entrepreneur but it also taught me how to pay it forward. I am a living testimony that it is personal investments like theirs that truly make a difference. Thank you Mr. and Mrs. West for your mentorship and friendship. I am grateful. #52WoG
Originally posted on Facebook on Sunday, January 31, 2021.
In Week 5 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Charlene Minor.
Shortly after accepting my call to the ministry, I was tasked one Sunday with the invitation to discipleship. The invitation was a part of worship service and an opportunity for anyone in attendance to confess their faith, rededicate their lives or join the church. The invitation also typically follows the sermon. So after Pastor Jones concluded the message, I took to the pulpit to extend the invitation, beginning, "The doors of the church are open…"
After worship service and as the ministers were greeting departing congregants, Mother Minor, walking toward the exit hugged me and said, "You did good." Then, gently placing her hand on my arm and holding it, she said, "But it's, 'The Door of the church is open.' Christ is the door. There's only one." And as quickly as she came, she left with a smile.
Up until that point, I had simply parroted what I had heard other ministers say. But, in an encounter that was as brief as an embrace, she had given me an invaluable lesson in theology but moreover, she gave me an appreciation for the meaning and importance of every word that came across that sacred desk. It would be far from the last lesson she would teach me.
On another Sunday years later, I delivered the "Children's Sermon." My son, who was 8 or 9 at the time, was among the group of two dozen or more children who had come to the front of the church for this segment in the service. He was talking during the sermon and my response was harsh. That very next day, a Monday, Mrs. Minor comes to my workplace, walks to the break room and tells me to come have a seat. She then goes on, like a mother, to rebuke me for my public and harsh treatment of my son. She said, "As his father, the things you do and say to him have the potential to become part of him forever. Make sure it's helpful and not hurtful. At this age, you have to be careful not to crush his little spirit." I said, "Yes, ma'am." Then, she told me she loved me and as quickly as she came, she left with a smile.
Much of my growth as a Christian, husband, father, minister -as a human being can be accounted to Greater Ebenezer Missionary Baptist Church because of beautiful souls like Mother Charlene Minor. She was a Mother in the purest ecclesiastical sense of the word. Mrs. Minor was always prepared whether in song, word or deed to correct, rebuke and encourage with great patience. I thank God for her teaching me, encouraging me and holding me accountable. I am a better man for it. I am grateful. #52WoG
Originally posted on Facebook on Friday, January 22, 2021.
In Week 4 of 52 Weeks of Gratefulness, I give thanks for Brother Jerry Linhares. Despite what we'd like others to believe by the face we put forward, marriage is not always safe harbor, sometimes it's a war zone. There has been more than one occasion where Melissa and I almost didn't make it. But, God. Our family is where it is today because of the people God placed in our lives to bear with our weaknesses and lead us into the deeper things of God. Jerry Linhares was such a person.
The first time I met Brother Jerry, our marriage was in trouble. Both Melissa and I were fixated on what we were not getting and how the other fell short. We chose to meet with Brother Jerry because he was widely known for his wise, compassionate and Spirit-filled marriage counseling. But most importantly, neither of us knew him. That was important because our shared goal was to find a neutral third-party who could independently verify how wrong the other was.
On the day of our counseling session, we met in a small cozy office tucked away at the end of the hall at New Covenant Church. Brother Jerry allowed each of us an opportunity to speak, sharing our perspective on the problem. It didn't take long for the tension to rise. While we were pointing fingers and building our prosecutorial cases against each other, Pastor Jerry looked at me without the slightest hint of condemnation and gently said, "Paul, the problems won't change with a new face and a new name."
His statement left me dumbstruck. He did that Jesus thing. You know, where you come to Jesus with one question and He answers another question entirely? He answered the unspoken question, the one I was already contemplating inwardly -the question that underpinned my response to the problem at hand. He, as a vessel of Christ, spoke directly to the heart of the matter. What Pastor Jerry taught me that day was that the solution to the problem was not divorce, nor was it focusing on the constant I could not change (Melissa). The solution was focusing on the One who could change both constants (me and Melissa) and change the product entirely.
That is but one of the things I learned from a man who loved God and consequently loved people. Our lives have been forever changed by his. I've recently learned that Brother Jerry Linhares is no longer with us but is now present with the Lord. I thank God that I had a chance to share Life with Brother Jerry and thank Mrs. Susan Broomfield Linhares and Lindsay Linhares for sharing him with us and so many others. I am grateful. #52WoG
