James Gibbons's Page

There was a lot of surreal stuff about the weekend we all stood by as the Lord took my father-in-law home. Maybe the most surreal was the fact that as he lay in ICU, he had almost no jewelry. He wasn’t wearing his wedding band (a very nice gold band I never saw him without). He wasn’t wearing his wrist watch (a very cheap digital watch he probably got at a gas station). He was only wearing his hospital identification bracelet on his left wrist…and a tattered and frayed W.W.J.D bracelet on his ri… Continue

When I was a little kid, I heard a story about three blind guys (and a blind girl) who went to see an elephant. The guy who grabbed it’s tail concluded that an elephant was like a snake. The guy who grabbed the trunk concluded that an elephant was like a pillar. The guy who leaned against the side of the beast concluded that an elephant was like a wall. The girl grabbed the ear and concluded that an elephant was a like a really nice handbag (I made that part up).

I think we do the same thing wi… Continue

I was pleased to read Xulon’s blog on expository preaching a few minutes ago. He mentioned springboard messages, that start with a verse that appears to be relevant to a point the preacher wants to make and spring into the preacher’s point. Using this method, we can make strong “scriptural” cases for voting, not voting, drinking coffee, not drinking coffee, dancing, not dancing, not dancing while drinking coffee, dancing only when drinking coffee…blah, blah, blah. And he mentioned suppose… Continue

My brother has an evil sister in law. This woman, for reasons that I won’t get into, hates men. She hates men her age. She hates men older than she is. She hates men younger than she is. She hates teenage boys. She hates little boys. She probably even hates male babies.

One day, all the cousins were together. Including my brother’s 6-year-old (at the time) son, Mark, and his four girl cousins. Aunt Luella (rhymes with Cruella) decided to “take the kids for ice cream.”

So they all ran to Aunt L… Continue

I published this poem elsewhere—in a secular poetry publication, actually. Thought y’all might enjoy.


In these last days I’ve been having questions,
concerns, hard issues,
about the trumpet, about the shout,
about what comes next.

Will I hit my head on the way up?
Will it raise a bump?
Will it leave me before the glassy sea
with plaster in my hair?

Should I install timers, auto shot-off switches
on steamers, irons, stoves, and tea kettles,
So as not to leave a fire hazard behind?

If I leave… Continue