The Bible-Believing, Bacon-Eating, Blog-Writing, Bald-Preacher

     When I first moved to Burke County I was introduced to something that changed my life, Friday Night Football. It was the 1980's and everybody flocked to the football games on Friday to watch East Burke play. Our church would take the church van to several games each year even to a couple away games. It wasn't just the youth that went. All ages would pile in the van and car pool behind the van to the games. The stadium would be filled with people from all over the community. That was the first live football I had ever seen and I was hooked.      I remember hearing the announcer announce the players as they made tackles or ran the ball. I remember hearing the fans scream in joy when East Burke scored. I can still hear the boos when the referee made bad calls. Everyone once in a while you could hear the cheerleaders and band. But the sound that drew me to the game was the sound of players knocking the snot out of each other. The sound of two helmets hitting gave me cold chil

     While I was on vacation last month I was sitting on the beach  just out of the reach of the waves behind the seashell line I noticed something. What I call the seashell line is that line of broken seashells that appears just past where the waves come in. I noticed that it was constantly changing. Big waves would take some of the shells away. Small waves dropped new ones in. People were digging into the seashell line hoping to find a beautiful shell, a hard to find shark's tooth or some other treasure. What I noticed was the adaptability of the beaches and shells.      Let me explain. When I looked at the seashell line everything looked to be in harmony. Then a wave would come in and drop a new shell in the seashell line. For a few moments it looked out of place, like it didn't belong. But then something happened. I would look away for a second, then look back and things had changed. The new shell not only looked like it belonged but it was hard to find which shell was the