Luke Liechty: All Things SBC

Well, thanks to the faithful readers at SBCTomorrow:  The Final Four we shall go.

Just have to break in: if you planned to vote in the March Madness finals, now is the time to do so.  SBCTomorrow is neck and neck with Micah Fries, who is, by the way, an outstanding SBC blogger.  Our conference is undoubtedly the toughest one as the total votes are tallied.  I appreciate all who voted for us.  I even appreciate those who thought about it but didn't :^)  With that, I am...Peter

Louisiana Pastor Luke Liechty, and heretofore a rather mild mannered commenter on SBC Tomorrow, has literally gone bananas.  He decided to step into the acid waters of SBC politics, with his new site,  All Things SBC. 

Luke, my Brother, understand:  your life will never be the same.  We hope your wife has a great insurance policy on you.

With that, I am...

Peter

Comments

[Luke]

Peter,

Oh I hope that you are not a prophet. But I did enjoy the laugh. Thanks for the plug.

Luke

[Byroniac]

One of my favorite lines from the first Matrix movie may apply to you, Luke. "...buckle your seatbelt, Dorothy, because Kansas is going bye-bye" (or words to that effect). I'm not sure why I like that quote so much, but I do. :)

[Luke]

Byron,
Already, I can feel the love. You are such a Barnabas. :)

[OUTBACK]

:)
Here are some words concerning the fray Luke..
The Lord bless you bro..
Steve

There was movement in the wagons for the word had passed around,
That Luke of Louisianna had hit the way.
And had joined the wild Bap Bloggers - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the Enid followers had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted bloggers from the churches near and far
Had mustered at Luke’s homestead overnight,
For the bloggers love hard writing where the wild bush baptists are,
And the bloggers sniffs the battle with delight.

There was Burleson, who made his pyre when Pardon won the Pup;
The young man with his letters as bold as brass;
But few could write beside him when his blood was fairly up-
He would call a better man words worse than ass.
And Grosey of the Outback came down to lend a hand,
No slacker at detection was this man;
For never blog could stop him while the rhythmic words would stand -
He learnt to write while staring down the bans.

And one was there, named Peter, a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a jockey undersized,
With a touch of hard irony - three parts antacid at least -
And such a man by conservatives much prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry - just the sort that won't say die -
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the mullet pride of Georgia on his head.

But not slight or weedy, one Volfan who would stay,
And the young men said, "That dave will never do
For a long and tiring tirade - dave, you'd better stop away,
Those Enids are far too rough for such as you."
So we waited sad and wistful – to gather up what friends -
To gather to the fray out at young Luke’s
"I warrant dave is with us when he's wanted at the end,
For he’s got the stick of the mountain bred."

So we went ; we found the Enids hassling over on Luke’s stump -
We raced away towards that “sacred crowd”,
And old Pete gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy writing now.
And, Grosey, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Write boldly, lad, and never fear the dills,
For never yet was writer that could keep that mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those mainstream hills."

So Grosey rode to wheel them - he was writing on the wing
Where the best and boldest writers take their place,
And he raced his comments past them, and he made the blog files ring
With sarcasm, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung that dreaded dash,
But they saw their well-loved Ben Cole full in view,
And they charged beneath his sarcasm with a sharp and sudden bash,
And off at Page Patterson again they flew.

Then fast the CR Bloggers followed, where the comments deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their dread,
And the comments woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
At Outpost the damned place of the dead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild bloggers held their sway,
When truth and liberty ever now grew wide;
And the old men muttered fiercely, "We may bid the truth good day,
No man can hold them from the liberal slide."

When they reached old Enid’s summit, womens’ ministry in view,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The compromise to culture, and the comment stream was full
Of compromise, and any slip was death.
But the man from old Georgia let the Word of God be read,
And he searched the scriptures to conquer all his fear,
And he chased Wade down his comments like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched and gave a cheer.

He sent the arguments a flying, but thin Peter kept his feet,
He cleared the false teachings in a stride,
And the man from Old Georgia never shifted in his seat.
It was grand to see that blogging pastor write.
Through the foolishness and crazies, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the comment stream at a racing pace he went;
And he never cooled the keyboard till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

And down by Louisiana, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around the Baptists their keyboards click and clack
To stop the turkeys, whose parameters are wide,
The man from Louisiana is a household word out back,
And the Preachers tell the story of his hide.

[Luke]

Grosey,
Down here, they know our hide is done when we turn read and float in the boiling water. You, Byron and Peter have made me feel sooooo welcome. ;)

[peter lumpkins]

Luke,

My deepest apologies for misspelling your name. I simply followed my own lead the way I had it spelled in my feedreader. Talk about the blind leading the blind!

Grace. With that, I am...

Peter

[Luke]

Peter,
No worries. And you are not anywhere near the first one to misspell that last name. It is a fact of life to which I have grown accustom. It has helped me make sure that I try to spell others correctly though. Thanks again for the push, er shove, uh pointing in my direction.

[Jim]

Peter,

You got my vote, bro!

[Colin McGahey]

Peter,

Update your link to the final four over at Tony's:

here

or the long version: http://sbcvoices.com/final-four-blog-madness-at-sbc-voices/

[selahV]

PETER!! You made it to the final four. How'd you do that? :) Wish all those folks were my friends. I think. :) selahV

[selahV]

Peter...what is your problem? Your competition is whining, begging, chanting and doing the wave on their sites. They're offering goodies and selling their porridge. And you sit back with the same yada yada post without a care in the world. Do you know something we don't know? Or are you in Jerusalem again? selahV

[peter lumpkins]

S

Hey, SelahV. Well, I guess I'm kinda wore out with it. Not to mention, of course, it is next to impossible that I'd ever catch those guys.

It'd be fun to have a "come-back" perhaps and knock Steve loopy as I passed him. But Dr. Ascol is already opening the champaign buckets, I'd guess :^)

With that, I am...

Peter

[Byroniac]

Peter, I have a confession to make. I voted for you the first two rounds, but in the final round I voted for the Founders Blog. You do an excellent job with your blog, though. I know very few of the other blogs, but getting into the Final Four is quite an accomplishment.

[selahV]

Well, it would be interesting to read a story in Baptist Press with pictures showing them popping the corks in celebration. Surely you jest. :) selahV