I stood with a few other Tulsa pastors in the parking lot of a monastery built in the 1200’s on Mt. Carmel at the traditional site where Elijah sought shelter after facing down the prophets of Baal (1 Kings 18-19.) The view from the mountain top was spectacular. Looking east we could see just below the horizon the silver ribbon of the Jordan River that separates Israel from the nation of Jordan. Below us were the rich valley farmlands—the valley of Jezreel and the region of Megiddo. Countless battles from biblical days onward have been fought in this region; the last was in September 1918 as part of World War 1. We walked uphill a few yards, crossed the road, and looked westward. There we could see between the mountain ridges the glimmering blues of the Mediterranean Sea. Israel is a very small nation. With the Hamas War in Israel growing more tense each day, some are asking, Is the long foretold final Battle of Armageddon about to take place? 

I have a few responses to that question. The Book of the Revelation of John chapters 19 and 20 reveals that battle and its aftermath. Armageddon is over before it begins. All the personifications of evil, literal and figurative, are defeated and cast into a fiery imprisonment for a thousand years followed by the Great White Throne Judgement. With this understanding, the battle of Armageddon is not ours to worry about. In my perspective of last days, a destruction of the modern nation/state of Israel would be a marker that we have entered a great tribulation period where all the redeemed people would experience severe persecution or physical death for our faith, until the final shout, “Come!” All of the redeemed of all the ages will be present at the Lord’s Second Coming.

Last Sunday morning I asked the congregation to read Jesus’ teachings on the signs of His coming found in Matthew chapters 24 and 25. His continued teaching is—be ready for the day of His return. Bring hope and comfort to those you love who are anxious about tomorrow and what the future may hold. Tell them of the good news of God’s salvation through Jesus’ death on the cross. Tell them that even death itself is not the end of life’s story, with Jesus as their Lord. And do not wait for a better time. 

Keep healthy. Pray mightily. Enjoy your life today. Be ready for the Lord. And let’s experience the love and power of God together.

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During this 50^th church-a-versary month, I was asked to repost this infamous story. 

On September 7, 1979, I received an urgent phone call asking for my assistance. One of our church members at the time, Ty Frederick, was trying his hand at breeding cockatiels. I was very interested in his new hobby. He called me that evening to say that a new mother was rejecting her two hatchlings. He asked if I could come over and help him. We decided that I would take one and he would work with the other. I took the hatchling home and fed him with an eye dropper and kept him warm with a towel in a shoebox. After his feathers came out, I began to teach Dini to fly and to talk. One of his favorite sayings was, “He’s a good bird.”  Then, one fateful day in the spring of 1981, I brought him to church to show the children.

The world’s longest children’s sermon began during the morning service as usual. When I took the bird out of his cage to show how he was trained to talk and fly back to me… well, let’s just say he flew and flew and sang, all through the rest of church that morning. I thought it was poetic that Ty was singing a solo in worship when Dini decided to make it a duet. No one slept through church that day! We worked all afternoon to try and coax him back to his cage. He loved singing in church. Later, after the evening service, I climbed an extension ladder and lifted a long pole with an improvised crossbar up to his perch near the sanctuary’s cove lights. He got on the crossbar, then as I slowly inched the pole down, he jumped on my shoulder like he was supposed to have done 10 hours earlier!

I looked up the life expectancy of the cockatiel—they live about 20 years. According to Wikipedia, there was one bird confirmed to have lived 35 years. Dini was a noble pet that outlived several of our cats. For around eight of those years, he shared his cage with a female cockatiel we called DeeDee. We thought Dini would like the company and that they might even mate. He mostly tolerated her. She died unexpectedly one July. He did not seem to miss her. Dini died on May 7, 2011. He lived 31 years and 8 months with us, greeting us every day with songs and whistles and chatter. He was a very good bird.

  Keep healthy. Pray mightily. Enjoy your life today. Remember the good times. And let’s experience the love and power of God together.

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What an overwhelming and beautiful day Dorothy and I experienced last Sunday.  We could tell that there was a lot of thought and hard work put into celebrating our 50^th Church-a-versary. We loved it all. During the morning service Rev. Jordan Stowe, pastor of Angus Baptist Church, Sand Springs, presented a beautiful plaque on behalf of the Tulsa Metro Baptist Network. He is their current President. My friend Dr. Steve Graham brought a very fitting message about our God who provides more than enough, loaves and fishes style, while we focus on the scarcity of the situation. The special music covered a full range from Bryan Enos singing a Mercy Me song and Vicky Speck singing How Great Thou Art a cappella. Carter Enos put his own ragtime style on When We All Get to Heaven during the offering. 

A full Willets Hall was decorated with pictures and memorabilia from the past 50 years of church life together. There were teams of helpers working everywhere, and I apologize if I overlook someone. The event was coordinated by Margaret VanHorn, with able assistance from Rita Snellgrove and Connie Conelly. There were fresh flowers, special napkins, and a corsage and boutonniere for us to wear. A retrospective video played in the background. Thank you to Donelle Enos and Dayna Avery and their children for gathering the pictures and Kevin Avery, for putting it all together. The meal of smoked brisket and the fixings was incredibly good. Thank you to the kitchen team: Russell Ford, Ben Shepard, Patty Hickman, Katy Cook and Jason Ford. John Snellgrove and Stephen Lovelace were the photographers at large. 

Bryan Enos served as the emcee of the program. Personal testimonies, cards, and gifts from past and current members were given. We wiped tears of sweet memories and laughter as we took in the personal reflections, and later as we opened the cards and gifts. Bill Ess presented us with a card which contained a very generous check from Braden Park Church. Bill also presented us with a beautiful crystal plaque engraved with individual appreciations for both Dorothy and me. 

While we were highlighted richly on Sunday, fifty years together is only possible because of a remarkable congregation. Thank you for being such a giving and loving people, for your prayers and your faithfulness, and for joining with us in this Kingdom work. Thank you for it all.

With deep gratitude and love,

Bro. Darryl and Dorothy

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As I continue to reflect on this 50-year-mark as minister here at Braden Park, I am thinking today about those first few months after we moved to Tulsa in response to a call from God and a call from the church. My assignment was to be assistant minister in charge of the education and youth ministries. I was also asked by Dr. Bob Willets, senior minister at the time, to preach either the morning or evening service each week to help him fully recover from a time of depression. We decided not to announce who would be preaching when, to keep from getting into a fixed routine. I was preaching through 1 Corinthians. One Sunday in November Dr. Bob was out of town. The next Sunday he returned to the pulpit and announced that he had accepted a call to pastor a church just outside of Washington D. C. His last day would be December 31. Dorothy and I were taken by surprise, and we had questions.

Those Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays were a flurry of church activities, family and friends visiting us, and celebrating our baby’s first Christmas. We were out of town that first week of January when the Music Director was asked to resign. Tensions were high and we received conflicting advice about how to proceed.  We made a quick trip to Ft. Worth to talk with our former pastor and other mentors. A Pulpit Committee was formed, and I agreed to become the interim pastor on condition I could have occasional guest preachers to give me some time for discernment. In late January I brought a “State of the Church” message which challenged the church to decide who they would become. In early March, I attended a most valuable conference in Dallas, that emphasized the power of personal management in church ministry. It clarified for me an understanding of myself and my call to service. It gave me tools to help lead others through conflict and to take personal responsibility for managing the programs of the church. Apparently, the Easter message I brought gave a sense of unity to the congregation, and soon afterward the pulpit committee asked me to consider becoming the pastor. Through that whole process I continued to sense a strong calling to lead this congregation. I officially became senior pastor on Mother’s Day 1974. I was where God had called me, and still am to this day. 

Keep healthy. Pray mightily. Enjoy your life today.  And let’s continue to experience the love and power of God together.

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It was nearly midnight on October 1. Dorothy and I felt a bit like Mary and Joseph after being turned away by all the old Route 66 motels on Tulsa’s 11th Street. Our baby was six weeks old. We had spent the whole day helping movers load the moving van and then we unexpectedly learned that they were going to drive overnight to Tulsa to unload the van first thing in the morning at our little duplex apartment at 14^th and 73^rd East Avenue. That’s when the scrambling began. We filled our trusty ’64 Rambler with the baby and the rest of our worldly goods and left Ft. Worth behind. But now it was midnight. We stopped at the Desert Hills Motel, where we had stayed before, but something called the Tulsa State Fair (not Tulsa County Fair, I learned) was in full swing less than a mile away, so every room was taken. We eventually found a room on the seventh floor of the downtown Holiday Inn. What a short night!

Very early the next morning we had to load everything back into the car and get across town to the new place. The moving van was already waiting. We spent the morning unloading and setting up the place. Eventually Dorothy said that we needed to go shopping right then. Why? We had this little baby, and our place had no washer, dryer or refrigerator, and there was something about babies and laundry and eating that needed tending to. So, on our move-in day in Tulsa—it was a Tuesday—we bought the appliances and had them delivered the next day. Wednesday night I was welcomed by Dr. Bob Willets and the church people to the evening prayer service. I delivered my first sermon as a minister of our church on the first Sunday morning of October 1973. The Scripture was taken from 1 Corinthians chapter 1. That day I began a verse-by-verse study of that book which lasted into the following February.

I am in a reflective mood about these 50 years together. Thank you for inviting us and allowing us into some of the most sacred moments of your family’s life. Thank you for welcoming us and giving us room to mature as a pastor and as a family. Thank you for loving us.  Thank you for ministering to us and helping us raise and teach our children, and their children, the holy things of God. You are loved, and Dorothy and I are so blessed and grateful.

Keep healthy. Pray mightily. Enjoy your life today.  And let’s continue to experience the love and power of God together.

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This was written for the Center for Congregational Ethics on-line Lectionary to Life Series and is based on Psalm 103:8-13; Genesis 37:12-36; and 1 John 3:11-16 for September 14, 2023. 

When the unpleasant befalls us, we may lament, “It’s not fair. Why me? Why this? Why now? I do not deserve this.” Our passages for today outline a few examples of lamentable, undeserved actions. In Genesis 37:12-36, the plot by his own brothers to kill Joseph and say an animal did it was altered to his benefit, but Joseph did not deserve to be sold into slavery. And their father Jacob did not deserve decades of inconsolable mourning for Joseph. 

In 1 John 3:11-16, the writer points to Abel who, while living righteously, did not deserve to be murdered by his brother Cain. It was an evil betrayal of the bond of love. In the same way, John goes on to caution that believers should not be surprised by undeserved persecution and hatred.

It is in Psalm 103:8-13 that we confront our own sins toward God and the people we encounter each day. Do others deserve the sins we commit against them? Just as Joseph showed grace when he later confronted and forgave his brothers; just as God showed compassion to Cain and marked him with a sign of protection; so too we do not deserve God’s abounding love and mercy. Yet the psalmist sings, God does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities.

 How then should we, whose sins have been removed from God’s sight as far as the east is from the west, respond?  Let us meditate this day on our own undeserved love from God. Let’s give those we encounter today undeserved compassion, forgiveness, and mercy. This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.  Undeserved.

Darryl DeBorde is pastor of the Braden Park Baptist Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

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I found myself going down the proverbial social media rabbit hole into the world of the Blue Angels. I have always been fascinated by the precision flying of the Air Force’s Thunderbirds and the Navy’s Blue Angels. I watched a couple of videos of these pilots putting on their air shows; one was the view from a pilot. I watched as six fighter jets took off in pairs and immediately went into formation. I counted five rearview mirrors mounted around the cockpit. Everyone must know where everyone is at all times, as well as their own speed, altitude and position. These pilots fly their planes upside down and sideways while timing their special effects and arial ballet within yards of each other. It is an amazing display of skill and courage.

It all reminds me of the stress of driving down the Broken Arrow Expressway (posted speed limit 60 mph) just before peak rush-hour traffic and the first crash at 75 or 80 mph. We are quite conscious of driving in Tulsa since we have two young drivers in the family. Deacon turned 16 in May, earning his full driver’s license, and Molly turns 16 this week and expects to have her license in a week or so. They both are certain they are not yet ready for the Blue Angel drivers on the expressways. Driving safely is an adventure in mind-reading. It would be nice if more people used their signal lights properly and turned them off occasionally. Distracted drivers are fiddling with their drinks, phones, and faces. They drive too closely even when they are daydreaming, replaying the last argument or just sleep driving. Sleep driving is when you wake up behind the wheel of your car, wondering how you got there when you cannot remember the last few traffic lights. I know you know the feeling. Stress and boredom are a dangerous combination.

The first recorded rush-hour traffic jam is found in Nahum 2:4, although there was a major pile-up recorded in Exodus 14. Both are good stories to read to learn of God’s concern and provision for His people. How are you handling the stress these days? The pilots I observed were focused on the details so they could respond with safety and accuracy. While they perform and practice the same things each day, they do not let the routine lead them to distraction.

Keep healthy. Pray mightily. Enjoy your life today. Drive safely. And let’s experience the love and power of God together.

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He made it through the seventh grade before he had to drop out of school to help support his family in rural Arkansas. Born in 1901, J. Ray Smith plowed his fields and learned to build barns. He married his wife of 60 years, Ola, in 1922. He began working as a laborer for a lumber yard, learning the intricacies of home building. He once told me that the hardest thing he ever did was sell his team of mules and move to Tulsa. He formed the Commercial Lumber Company at 12^th and South Lewis and began supplying lumber in the prewar years of Tulsa’s expansion. They joined our church in 1941 where he served as a deacon.  Following the war, J. Ray and Ola organized a young adult Sunday School class that drew the young men from Spartan School of Aeronautics and the young ladies from all around. At that time he invested in the little community of Owasso, seeing the growth potential for low-cost housing to support the working families near the airport and American Airlines. He became a director of the First Bank of Owasso, and eventually opened the Owasso Lumber Company to meet the housing demands of the 1970’s. 

In 1972 the Smiths offered 60 acres of his Owasso land for the site of a new Baptist Children’s Home. A few years later they donated 60 more acres for the addition of the Baptist Retirement Village. Ground was broken for the White City Cottage in 1973 and our church hosted the dedication and reception on June 2, 1974. Ola Smith organized and taught our Lighted Candles class for special needs children. J. Ray was a founder of the Tulsa Baptist Laymens Corporation, which secured Tulakogee Conference Center and the Baptist Student Union building at the University of Tulsa. He served as a director of the Baptist Foundation of Oklahoma and as a Trustee of Oklahoma Baptist University. He told me that he never imagined that he would be part of leading a university. At the time of their excitement with the unfolding of the children’s home, J. Ray suffered a stroke. He bounced back quickly but took up walking with a cane.  He was always sharp and used the knowledge that he appeared to be disabled to his advantage, surprising many with how savvy he really was. He succumbed to a massive stroke in 1983. Ola passed away in 1996. Although J. Ray and Ola Smith never had children of their own, their legacy has grown and flourished through these last fifty years. This September 7, a “Super Cottage” will be dedicated. It is built like a duplex; one side will be for boys and the other for girls.

Keep healthy. Pray mightily. Enjoy your life today. Serve faithfully. And let’s experience the love and power of God together.

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I have never been too keen on climbing mountains as sport or personal recreation. My thinking is if God had intended us to hike up a mountain, God would not have created asphalt roads and motorized vehicles. Although I have been known to walk to the top of a mountain ridge or peak for the view, I enjoy the journey down more. I like the brooks and streams and the shade of large old trees. Yet here I was at the end of July, on a day-long tour of the ruins of Pompeii which included climbing to the top of Mount Vesuvius. My first question was how long has it been since the last eruption? (March 17, 1944)  My next question was how high do we have to climb? (1,000 meters) That did not help at all. Fortunately, the tour bus did take the winding, tiny two-lane asphalt road slowly upward to the passenger drop-off point (which needs a better name).

We were handed little paper tickets, told to look for the tour bus in about 90 minutes, and by the way, restrooms were not available. We smiled grimly. Mountain climbing is not straight up. That 1,000 meters up was a zig-zag path of crushed lava and dust. The temperature was a cloudless 96ᴼ. I pressed on. I started up the quiet volcano with my traveling adventurers Bryan and Deacon Enos. By the time we reached the first switchback rest area, I was feeling weary from the long flight, busy morning, and the altitude. I knew it would be best to go back down and find some shade. On the way down I noticed that an ambulance had quietly pulled up and parked beside the trail. Nice touch. Fortunately no one seemed to need the ambulance while we were there. Bryan and Deacon pressed on near the peak. The top of a volcano looks like a rock-strewn mountain with an edge. We reconnected and headed for the air-conditioned bus. We may have dozed off.

More than two million people, counting on an extensive evacuation plan, live in the shadow of Vesuvius today. I took advantage of my time up there to take in the view of mountains and towns in the valley down to the sea. I thought about mountaintop experiences good and bad, of beautiful times and tragedies mixed all together. It is good to know what mountain you are climbing.

Keep healthy. Pray mightily. Enjoy your life today. Know your challenges. And let’s experience the love and power of God together.

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This Reflections was originally written in July 2015.

The little tongue-twisting ditty was a mainstay in high school speech class. It was an exercise in agility and concentration. It warmed the vocal cords and tuned the diction. It prepared us to face the most fear-inducing moment of anyone’s life—giving a speech in front of an audience. Recurring dreams and nightmares are made from speech class. Picture standing in front of a group of your peers, being handed the little card about Betty Bauder and having to read it out loud in front of all of those snickerers.

Betty Bauder bought some butter but she said “The butter’s bitter. If I put it in my batter, it will make my batter bitter; but a bit of better butter—that would make my batter better.” So she bought a bit of butter better than her bitter butter, and she put it in her batter and the batter was not bitter. So ‘twas better Betty Bauder bought a bit of better butter.

But like most budding orators, I wondered about Betty. Who was Betty Bauder and why was she making batter? What was she making that needed fresh batter—a cake, a pie crust, fried chicken? Who tastes the butter before putting it in the batter to know if it’s bitter? Was she able to trade her bitter butter for some better butter at the store? Is this a true story?  What are the theological implications of a better batter? 

I’ve decided the Betty Bauder Story is a parable of preparation. Betty knew it only takes a little bitterness to spoil the whole thing. It’s all about the quality of the ingredients we are pouring into our minds and hearts. If the batter represents the stuff of life, then being ever vigilant to spot the bitter butter in our attitude will foster grace in all of our relationships. “See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.” Hebrews 12:15  Is today’s batter better?

Keep healthy. Pray mightily. Enjoy your life today. Use better butter. And let’s experience the love and power of God together.

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