…Dallas wasn’t on my June 2018 agenda but my wife and daughter wanted to come, so here we are. I’m resigned to being bossed around a bit this week. Good to have a millennial along for Ubering, and tech stuff anyway.
The only thing I wanted to do outside of SBC18 is stroll around Dealy Plaza. I was in eighth grade back then. School let out early. Zapruder, sixth floor, grassy knoll…seems like the two crude “X” marks in the roadway don’t quite fit the event but I suppose if there were permanent markers they would be stolen. Even 911 didn’t have the somber gravity of Kennedy’s assassination.
I register and catch the last 2/3 of Merritt’s sermon. Good. Tsar Bomba…good illustration. Get a guy over sixty and an elaborate alliterative outline seems to pop up. Adrian was the master.
I think that’s Miller and Benkert near the back. I judge by Dave’s body language he’s thinking how nice it is not to be responsible for the PC as he was last year.
I swear, I’m seeing Stonewall Jacksons and A. P. Hills everywhere. The beards. Last time I was here for the SBC, toupees, sometimes tonsorial disasters, abounded. Now, shaved skulls and cantilevered beards. Go figure.
Back then my church paid $90 a night for a downtown hotel. I’ve bought cars for less than I’m paying for four nights this time. But, it’s family togetherness, priceless. That’s my official position anyway.
There’s Ken Hemphill registering. He looks a bit long-in-the-tooth. Oh, he and I are about the same age. Suppose I look the same. He’s a good guy and will do well, though I’m voting for Greear.
The PC has a lots of sponsors. Judging by the number of travel companies, I presume that Baptists are flush with shekels once again.
I look forward to seeing the brethren and sistren this week. Maybe the Lord will arrange another moment of grace and comity as in 2016.