“Have you ever done something that you regretted?” a lady said to me some time ago. Of course, I responded that I had done, or in some cases, not done, things that had caused me a great deal of regret. I don’t talk about those instances very much because there is little value in asking “what if” all the days of one’s life. For one thing, there are no “do-overs” and for another we can only compound our regrets by dwelling endlessly on lost opportunities or poor decisions.

There seems to be a trend among politicians to name public properties after notable citizens who have not yet left this earth. I believe it is a grave mistake.

Once, in a church I served in another state, a young teenage boy secretly smeared human feces on the walls of the men’s restroom several times before he was caught.

I had just taken my seat, number 2C, aboard Airtran Flight 569 from Bloomington, Ill., to Atlanta. The day was cold but clear and the sunset was but moments away in a near cloudless sky. I paid the upgrade of $40 for a business class seat because I wanted to read and relax after a busy two days in Champaign where I am helping to start a new church.

Several months ago, a well-known, influential and prominent pastor was accused of drug use and sexual immorality. The minister, who was president of the National Association of Evangelicals, an organization representing some 30 million Christians, was the founding pastor of a church whose ranks had swelled to a phenomenal 14,000 members. The pastor resigned as NAE president and, eventually, was removed from his pulpit and the ministry.

For most of the Christian community, the season of Lent has begun. This season, which follows the Church seasons of Advent (preparing for the coming of Christ), Christmas (the birth of Christ), and Epiphany (a season of the “revealing” of Christ, which includes the story of the Wise Men), is almost like a liturgical “stop sign” in the middle of the Christian calendar.

A few days ago, I went with a couple of our staff to a Mexican restaurant. It had been some time since I had enjoyed guacamole, so I ordered a large side order so that all of us could share.

It is 6:30 a.m. on Monday morning and I am in Champaign-Urbana, Ill., where it is currently seven degrees below zero with a wind chill factor of minus 22 degrees.

In a story dated Jan. 23 posted on AmericaOnLine, “AirTran Airways defended its decision to remove a Massachusetts couple from a flight after their crying 3-year-old daughter refused to take her seat before takeoff. AirTran officials said they followed Federal Aviation Administration rules that children age 2 and above must have their own seat and be wearing a seat belt upon takeoff.’

A recent Associated Press article reported that “church pews remain separated by color.” The article stated that the Sunday worship hour is still the most segregated hour in America as a result of the “mentality of self-segregation.”

He was born 200 years ago on Jan. 19, 1807 at Stratford in Westmoreland County in the state of Virginia.

His father was a hero of the Revolutionary War who served in high political office before losing nearly everything in bad financial investments. When the boy was 5 or 6 years old, his father left the family, never to return, dying when the lad was 11 at Cumberland Island, Ga.

I first met Dan Brigham in late 1983 or early 1984. I had arrived in Peachtree City to become the pastor of a four-and-a-half-year-old church, Fayette Fellowship, an Assemblies of God congregation.

I first met Mary Ann in the early to mid-1980s. She was married to a chiropractor named Robert Calhoun. They both began to attend services at the church I served at the time and my middle son, John, became fast friends with her youngest son Greg. In fact, if John was missing, he was probably at the Calhouns and it was known that her door was always open to the neighborhood kids.

A few days before Christmas a clerk at a store said to me, “Is it just me or are people more rude this Christmas than at other Christmas seasons?”

For much of my Christian experience I was taught and believed that traditions were wrong. Only a few months ago, I read the words of a mega-church pastor, a popular author and speaker, who demeaned tradition and spoke patronizing about those unenlightened people and churches who embraced tradition. The scripture usually cited is Mark 7:8-9, which reads,

The call came about 10:30 p.m. last Friday night. It had been a full evening with a wedding and reception following a full day. I was just about to head to bed when the phone rang.

Give Michael Vick a break. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the most civilized or politic thing to do, giving a “double-bird” to Falcons fans following the 31-13 drubbing the New Orleans Saints administered to the Atlanta team a couple of weeks ago.

Years ago, I was a young student at East Tennessee State University. My American History professor, whose name, sadly, I cannot now remember, said, “You can tell the greatness of a nation by the ‘open gate’ indicator. That is, when the gate is left open, do people flood into a country or do they flood out? The more the people flood into a country, the greater the nation.”

For once, a television network and a book publisher appear to have made a good, ethical choice. O. J. Simpson, acquitted of the murder of ex-wife Nicole Brown-Simpson and waiter Ron Goldman in criminal court and found liable for the same in a civil court, was to have been featured in an upcoming Fox two-part series which detailed how Simpson would have committed the murders “if he did it.”

It took a few minutes before I realized there was a problem. It had been a hectic week already. On Monday, I had flown to Illinois and met with several people throughout the day before holding services that evening in the town of Tolono where we are planting a new mission church. On Tuesday, I had an early lunch with three people from the new church prior to the one-hour drive to the Bloomington airport and the return flight to Atlanta.

I believe in free speech. I practice it, encourage it, and attempt to enable others in enjoying it. I greatly desire the members of my council to be honest and to be frank — especially if they believe I am missing the mark. I hope that the members of my congregation always feel free to share any insight or criticism they may need to offer.

I have already voted in next Tuesday’s election. I will be in Illinois on Monday and Tuesday so I cast an absentee ballot.

Dateline: Peachtree City — This morning, Tuesday, Oct. 24, armed gunmen robbed a bank in Peachtree City, Ga., during the noon hour. The men were armed with a shotgun and, possibly, a rifle. In the days ahead, all will become clear. There are certain facts, however, that are not in dispute.

When a leader falls, fails, or defects, it nearly always has a devastating effect on those who have served with them or under them.

It’s been less than two weeks since Charles Roberts invaded a one-room Amish school house and shot 10 innocent little girls. The senseless brutality and violence has shocked and disgusted an entire nation.

I thought when my last of three sons left home for the U. S. Air Force several years ago that my involvement with schools, candy sales, and athletics was over. I would now be an “empty nester” with free time galore on my hands to read, or to fish, or just to putter about.

It was a tough loss to take. Our church, Christ the King, is still new to the world of local church league softball athletics. While we have fielded a few teams, we have never had a winning season. In fact, while we have consistently improved, we have been pretty much in the cellar at the end of every season.

Five years later and no further attacks on U.S. soil. Who would have ever dreamed that, following the horrors inflicted on this nation on Sept. 11, 2001, we would experience five terror-free years?

I read in the paper that the old sanctuary of Sharpsburg Baptist Church has been demolished.

Portions of the building have stood since 1878 but, with the continuing deterioration of the building and with safety being a major factor, the congregation built a new building and, after valiant but unsuccessful efforts to save the old church, it finally was laid to rest.

A few weeks ago, our son reported that his air conditioner was on the fritz. At the time, the temperatures were in the high 90s and, with five small children, the conditions in the home were miserable.