Author: Jeff Hampton

For Wilshire Baptist Church

“Thou shalt not kill.” It’s written right there in the Ten Commandments as given to Moses in the Old Testament. Some say we need that on a placard in our classrooms or courthouses to remind us, but we don’t. It’s already written on our hearts; it’s woven into our DNA. How do I know? Because killing shocks and repulses us. We know viscerally that it’s wrong. 

So why do some people not understand that? Why do some people kill? Some say it’s the result of pure evil. Others say it’s mental illness. Maybe it’s something else. I don’t know; I’m not a theologian, sociologist, psychologist or doctor. I just know it’s wrong.

Continue reading “Lord, Have Mercy on Us”

For Wilshire Baptist Church

We recently had the surprise of eating dinner with the Corsicana Tigers football team. OK, that’s not entirely true. We didn’t actually eat with them, but we were in the same restaurant, and it was interesting to observe an entire football team in the “pregame zone.”

We were driving to Waco on Friday afternoon for the Baylor-Auburn football game and we stopped in Corsicana for a late lunch/early dinner. Yes, I’ve looked at the map and I know I-35 is the most direct route from Dallas to Waco. But, I discovered more than 20 years ago that I-45 to Corsicana and Texas 31 to Waco is a more sane, peaceful and engaging route. After enduring an hour of trucks and traffic racing to Houston on the interstate, you get an hour of cotton fields and wildflowers, windmills and wind turbines, cattle and horses, and small-town life.

Continue reading “First Down and Life to Go”

For Wilshire Baptist Church

LeAnn and I set out on Saturday morning for one of our regular walks to the big city park nearby, but when we got to the end of our street, we heard a familiar sound. The Garland Owls marching band was rehearsing, so we turned north instead of south to check it out.

Standing behind the band under some trees, we apparently were watching one of the early pre-marching season practices. The band was spread out in a typical “stage” formation on a parking lot painted with gridiron yard lines and numbers. While most of the band had instruments in their hands – the sousaphones didn’t – they weren’t playing. From atop a three-story steel tower with a drum major just below on the second story, the director worked the band through the basics.

Continue reading “Friday Night Memories”