An old hymn came to mind the other day, and as I listened to the words, I couldn’t help but be transported back in time. There I was in my grandpa’s church; everyone was there. Grandma was at the piano playing the song as only she could; Grandpa was standing on the platform singing away as the song leader waved his hand with the tempo of Fanny Crosby’s “To the Work.” My aunts and uncles and cousins were there, along with my own family. During the chorus I can hear the echo of grandp...

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My Grandpa, Jerry Osborne, faithfully served the Lord for 46 years as a pastor committed to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. After he passed away, his sermon notes and preaching Bible were stored away in a large old-fashioned trunk in the garage where they remained undisturbed and quiet for nearly 20 years. Then, as providence would have it, on the night of July 4^th (one of Jerry’s favorite holidays), 2015, that garage was set ablaze by the embers of illegal fireworks. I had always intended to s...

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The Bible confronts us with the following provocation in James 4:14, “For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.” This can be a discouraging, even depressing thought. A person’s life is like water, slowly boiling away under the heat of daily trials and monotonous tasks, and after all is said and done, there’s not much to show for it. The water is gone, and so is the mist of vapor that once gave evidence to it. Much of human existen...

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November 15, 1997 to November 15, 2017

Today marks the twentieth anniversary of the death of my grandfather, Jerry Osborne. It seems both a moment and an eternity that I have been without him. I can still hear the sound of his voice. I can still hear the sound of his laugh, and the way he would even snort sometimes when the joke was funny enough. His mannerisms are still vibrant in my memory, as are his idiosyncrasies. The very last time I saw him alive was at the Los Angeles International A...

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One of the greatest dramatic moments in American film takes place in the third act of Glory, when Private Silas Tripp (Denzel Washington) witnesses the regiment’s standard- the American flag- fall to the ground. As the soldier carrying the flag is shot dead on the battlefield, Silas takes up the standard once more and carries the banner forward, rallying the troops to continue their ill-fated charge against Fort Wagner.

As I think about my Grandpa today, I think of the first time I ever saw ...

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“It takes three to thrive: Sunday Morning, Sunday Night, and Wednesday night!” Such was the exhortation of Jerry Osborne to the people of God regarding their own attendance in the House of the Lord, and he practiced what he preached! When He was saved, Jerry Osborne was born again! He was begotten again by the Spirit of God unto new and abundant and eternal life! He was redeemed and proclaimed the praises of Him Who had called him out of darkness into His marvelous light! As a teenage con...

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I was very close to my grandparents, ever at their house or the church they had built together. Hardly a day could pass in my life when I did not see them. We did so much together. I remember Sunday afternoon lunches and mountain vacations; I remember spending the night at their house, watching X-files with them, and making homemade ice-cream for the Fourth of July! When I played football they were in the stands; and when I had an old broken down car to fix up, grandpa was there to hel...
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This past week I have reflected on how Pastor Chuck Smith touched my life. I knew he was close to the end, but when the news of his passing finally reached me on Thursday morning, I couldn't help but shed some loving tears. I thought about what his ministry meant to me, and I remembered when it was and why it was that he touched me so deeply.

In 1998 I was still reeling from the loss of my grandfather, Pastor Jerry Osborne; and the turmoil that erupted at his church in the wake of his tragic a...
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[Actually posted on October 25, 2010]
It was dark, pitch black, as we drove through the mountains. Only a toddler, I stood between my grandparents and exclaimed, “Speeky, Grandpa, speeky!” But all was well with him at the wheel. I had no reason to be afraid with Grandpa there, and for the rest of my life I looked up to the man who saw me safely through  those scary mountain roads.

As a boy, I would sit with my mother in a church pew on Sunday nights and listen to Grandpa preach. Sometimes I...
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