The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

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Category: Grandchildren (Page 1 of 5)

Twinning in Midland

February 23, 2026 / / 0 Comments

How did we get so lucky? We’ve got the boys for ten days at our house in Midland!

Our son-in-law David is taking the bar exam tomorrow and Wednesday in OKC and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to bring Valerie and our twin grandsons to Texas for a week-and-a-half to give him space and quiet to cram. And it’s giving Carrie-Anne and me a refresher on what it’s like to have little infants around. Little rugrats. And, watch where you step! There’s two of them!

Both Elliott and Samuel have just recently learned how to hold their own bottles and feed themselves. That’s great. It would be really something if they could change their own diapers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, I took Valerie and the boys to Blue Sky as soon as I could. You think there’s a cheeseburger like this in Oklahoma? Even if they can’t eat the burger, even if they can only be strapped to the table with a couple of prop Styrofoam cups for a cheesy photo op, I know they could smell the Blue Sky burger. I know they were thrilled. The burgers at the original Blue Sky on Western Street in Amarillo were a life-changer for Valerie, so it was nostalgic for her. And a great joy for me.

Elliott is crawling all over the place. He can get anything he wants, as long as it’s on the floor. And he’s surprisingly quick. The coolest thing in the world is when I walk into the house after work and he crawls to me, stops right at my feet, and holds his arm up. Samuel, on the other hand, hasn’t figured it out yet. He can only go backwards. We don’t know why, but he only pushes himself backwards, he can’t get his booty up and his legs bent to go forward. So two or three times a day he winds up under a chair or a couch. And he doesn’t like it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’re both eating baby food now like ravenous wolves. I’m not able to get the spoon from their mouths, back into the jar, and back to their mouths fast enough without them screaming at me. They love it, all of it–it doesn’t matter what vegetable, what flavor, what color.

Elliott likes to play rough, so I’m throwing him up in the air and slinging him around every which way, holding him upside down and rolling him on the floor. Sam is a lot more chill. He acts like he’s above everything, like he’s just observing the silliness around him and it amuses him. He giggles and laughs. A lot.

On Thursday, in only two and a half more days, I’m taking Val and the boys to Wichita Falls, the halfway point between here and Tulsa, where David will meet us for lunch and we’ll part ways to our respective states. Almost eight hours away from each other.

You people who live in the same city as your grandkids have got it made.

Peace,
Allan

 

Baby Blessing, Mission, and Derrell

January 20, 2026 / / 0 Comments

We were in Tulsa this weekend for the Baby Blessing ceremony at the Jenks Church where our daughter Valerie and her family worship and serve. Elliott and Samuel are six-months-old, the perfect age to steal the show at a baby blessing. And they did. We were listening as the parents of all the babies born in that congregation over the past year made vows to raise their children in the nurture and admonition of our Lord, we affirmed our own promises to help these parents raise their children in Christ, but everybody was distracted by the cuteness of our twin grandsons.

Or was that just me?

I don’t know, man, they’re super cute.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

David’s parents and his sister, Claire, were there from Virginia to really add to the fun of the long weekend together. There was a massive yard work project, big meals, football watching, and packing up the tubs of clothes the boys have already outgrown. But mainly we spent our time holding and playing with and loving Elliott and Sam. Elliott is taking steps now in his walker. Kinda. They’re both eating really well from jars now, and beginning to experiment with drinking from cups. They laugh and shriek at each other and are figuring out how to get their way. Elliott didn’t mind the lemon slice I had him try at Hideaway Pizza. Sammy hated it. We thought Elliott said “ma-ma” one time. He didn’t. But it was close.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of looking at those boys from way across a crowded room and watching them light up with recognition through those big eyes and wide-open smiles. How can I describe something like that? It’s crazy.

If you don’t have any, you should get some grandkids. It’s really awesome.

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The fastest way to get out of a spiritual rut is to dive head-first into a mission.

Having  the mind of Christ, being transformed into the image of Jesus with ever-increasing glory, means increasingly doing for others. It means sacrificing and serving others. Philippians 2 says your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus, and describes that attitude as considering others better than yourself and looking not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. 1 Corinthians 10 tells us to seek the good of many. Romans 15 instructs us to please our neighbors for their good, to build them up.

Actually doing some ministry like that–not just talking about it or studying it or agreeing that it’s good–changes us.

When we risk going to new places, meeting new people, trying new activities, the uneasiness creates some space for change. New experiences challenge our beliefs and assumptions. Ministry when you’re in over your head forces you to face your fears and surprises you with resources and strength from God that you didn’t know you had. Hearing the stories first-hand, seeing the places and meeting the people, makes the needs and the opportunities more urgent and real. The Scriptures become more alive when you connect them to real ministry. It pushes you out of the comfort and theory of rhetoric and into the places where God is changing the world. To empty yourself for God’s mission like that feels good.

You know it feels good. Because you’ve done it before. And the reason it feels so good and refreshing and real is because it is your God-ordained purpose. He made you to put others first. When you do that, you are being more Christ-like. That’s why it’s so powerful. When we serve others, we live better, we worship better, we pray better, we love better–everything’s better!

Living your life on mission means more people in our world will be blessed. And more of us will be changed.

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Derrell Havins, a gentle man of deep faith and a dear friend in Amarillo, finished his race this afternoon. And he ran well. Very well.

I love Derrell because he first loved me. I count Derrell among the greatest sources of encouragement I had during our ten years of ministry at the Central Church of Christ. He’d start all of our conversations with a smart-aleck comment about my tie or my hair or something I had said in a sermon, and then move immediately into an encouraging word. He told me on multiple occasions to never stop preaching. He told me to never let up. He told me to keep speaking the truth, even when it was difficult. And sometimes it was.

He and his loving wife, Nola, took us out for burgers at Buns Over Texas and catfish at that all-you-can-eat place in Umbarger. They were a fixture at Central’s annual Family Camp. And his smile–I never saw Derrell frown, unless he was faking something.

I love Derrell because he loved our daughters. He and Nola doted on our girls constantly, telling them how pretty they are, how talented they are, how important they are.  They hugged all three of our girls every Sunday. Valerie and Carley always referred to Nola and Derrell as “our favorite old people.” Derrell stood on the stage in that old Central chapel in the summer of 2020 as I walked Valerie down the aisle at her wedding. He’s the one who asked who was giving away this beautiful young lady in marriage. Valerie was blown away. Astonished. She had no idea Derrell would be up there. I remember when the doors opened and she took one step into the aisle and saw Derrell, she turned to me and said, “Oh, my word! It’s Derrell!” And started crying.

I’m typing through tears as I’m writing this right now. Remembering what Derrell would say every time we ate lunch together at the Burger Bar on Polk Street. He would order the Monte Cristo. Every time. And he would say, “Don’t tell Nola.” Every time.

After Nola died suddenly in March 2015, Derrell’s encouragement to me became a one-track stuck record. He ordered me to tell Carrie-Anne how much I love her. Every time we spoke, and at least a couple of times every Sunday, Derrell would insist. “Promise me,” he would say, “that tonight you’ll tell her. Tell Carrie-Anne you love her. Again.”

So, tonight, in honor of Derrell and Nola and their 57 years of marriage that truly reflect the glory of God and serve as a powerful testimony to our Lord’s love for his people, tell your wife tonight how much you love her and how much she blesses your life. Tell your husband how much he means to you and how you can’t imagine living without him.

God bless all the Havins and Vaughans in Amarillo tonight, and all the people who love Derrell so much. Rest in peace, Derrell. May our faithful God receive you into his loving arms.

Peace,
Allan

A Very Late Cultural Invention

January 12, 2026 / / 0 Comments

The great Drew Pearson is 75 today. The OG 88. Walk around today with a little bit of a chip on your shoulder in his honor. Try to use the phrase “Hail Mary” at least a couple of times. And just point to the crowd knowingly. Don’t spike it.

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I’m not a hundred-percent sure what to do with Substack. It feels like social media, to which I am fundamentally opposed. But some of the best writers I know personally are writing there regularly. So, I’m reading Jim Martin and Daniel Harris and Carrie McKean. Then Steve Schorr, my brother and partner in the Gospel at First Presbyterian, turned me on to the Disarming Leviathan guys. And now I have come across Kenneth B.

I do not know who Kenneth B. is. He is an orthodox Christian. That’s it. Maybe that’s all I need to know. He has written an excellent piece on the Church and our understandings of Church as the Body of Christ. Or, better said, our gross misunderstandings. And it is the best article on Church as the transforming community of faith I have read in a long time.

He writes about people a little younger than me, people in their 40s and 50s maybe, and how they were raised to view Christianity as a personal relationship with Jesus, faith as an emotional experience, and the Church as functioning to produce that experience.

“The idea that church existed to form a people rather than to stimulate an individual was unimaginable to us. Church was treated like a spiritual energy drink. You consumed it for a jolt of religious feeling, and if you stopped feeling the jolt, you changed flavors… Looking back, I realize that what I was handed was not the faith of the apostles, but a very late cultural invention.”

I just preached yesterday about how God’s Holy Spirit transforms us in Christian community, how our commitments to Christ and to his people–people we would never choose, people we don’t agree with, people we may not even like–form us more and more into his holy image. I only wish I had read Kenneth B’s article before I had preached. I think I might have just read the whole thing to everybody and called it good. This is excellent stuff.

“Because the entire structure was built around individual experience, religious feeling became the engine and the evidence of faith. A good church was one that gave you an experience. A bad church was one that did not. Piety was defined by how deeply a song moved you, how intensely a sermon pierced your conscience, how often you felt the Spirit goosebump the back of your neck. If you prayed and felt nothing, the prayer was thought to have failed. If you worshiped and felt nothing, the worship was considered dead.” 

Please read this whole article. It’s right here. Click right here. Read it twice. I think I’m going to write about it in sections this week, along with excerpts from yesterday’s sermon.

“Consider how the early Christians spoke. They did not describe salvation as me and Jesus but as us in Christ. Baptism did not place you in a private booth with God. It plunged you into a people. The Eucharist did not symbolize an internal feeling. It joined your life with every believer at the table.” 

Okay. It’s really good. Check it out. Then come back tomorrow.

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The boys are six months old. They are both rolling over consistently and sleeping on their bellies. Elliott is starting to hold his own bottle, here and there. Sam is watching Elliott intensely and hollering at him when he feels ignored. They are the two coolest little kids on the planet and they will be center stage at the annual Baby Dedication Service at the Jenks Church this Sunday. We will be on the front row. Cheering and laughing and praising God for his grace in the gift of these guys who fill us with so much joy.

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I had an incredible weekend in Dallas with some of the people I absolutely love the most. Three of the four Horsemen had lunch together at Dan’s house Friday. I snuck in a box of Swiss Cake Rolls and Zebra Cakes–don’t tell Debbie–and we laughed together and talked about all that God is doing in our lives. The Parkinson’s keeps Dan-O mostly confined to his bedroom now, but his Spirit has never known any bounds. He is as full of joy and encouragement as I’ve ever seen him. I thank God for Dan and for his continuous encouragement to me. He sees things in me I never did. Still does. He speaks them into existence, to our Lord and to me, sometimes at the same time.

Friday night, my sister Rhonda and I drove to Oak Cliff to take our Aunt Louann to dinner at the historic Norma’s Cafe. I knew we were going to make for a very loud party, so I made sure we sat in a booth in the very back corner of the restaurant. I think we still scared away some of the patrons. Oh, my word, we shared memories and Stanglin stories, we puzzled over unanswered questions and deep family mysteries, we sang songs (hard to explain), and laughed at everything. And we did it all way too loud.

At one point, the couple in the booth behind Louann got up to leave and looked at us with huge grins on their faces. They laughed and said, “Y’all have some really interesting stories!” I apologized and they assured us it was fine, they were entertained. They could tell we were having fun and that made it fun for them. As they walked away, Louann yelled at me, “WHAT DID THEY SAY?” So I told her. And Louann responded, “DO YOU THINK THEY HEARD US?!” And I yelled back, “I DON’T KNOW! DO YOU THINK THEY HEARD US?!”

Then Saturday morning, Rhonda and I met at the Saturn Road Church of Christ in Garland for Coach Richmond’s funeral. Coach Larry Richmond was my high school football coach at Dallas Christian. He was a history and health teacher and, for a couple of years in an emergency situation, our tennis coach. And we all loved him deeply. There were about 20 of us at the service who played for Coach Richmond, and we took pictures together and swapped a lot of football stories in the foyer, at the reception, and for about three hours at the On the Border at Saturn Road and Northwest Highway.

That crazy last drive and the Savage Fake that beat Metro Christian. The 4th quarter meltdown in that playoff game at Bishop Lynch. Cowboy drills. Sideline tackle drills. Uphill forties. Dean Stewart’s grades that were questionable for the Trinity game and kept him out of the First Baptist game. The Greenhill bell. Crack-backing on Greg Lybrand in practice and fearing for my life every day after until he graduated. A certain peanut butter incident after a week of two-a-days at football camp. The Bomb Squad. Ground Control. Coach T’s “Major Tom” towel. All the nicknames. Pearhead’s intense running. Godoy’s speed and the physical way he went after a football. Dumb Adkins’ toughness and leadership. Coach Lisle.

As I drove to Midland after that long lunch, my head aching from laughing too hard for too long, and Rhonda drove home to Edmond, we talked on the phone with each other for almost an hour and a half. Psycho-analyzing all of it. Reviewing feelings and reactions. Remembering people who weren’t there. Reminding of something funny or unexpected that was done or said.

I came away from the weekend overflowing with gratitude to God for all the amazingly wonderful people he has placed in my life. My whole life. Coach Richmond was MY coach! So was Coach Lisle! I had both of them! And Coach A and Coach T and Coach Savage and Coach Smith and Coach Shack. How was I so blessed? Jason Reeves is MY friend. So is Dan and Kevin and Robby John! Todd Adkins was MY teammate and running buddy in high school and MY roommate in college. I also went to high school and was friends with Mark Cawyer and Randy Hill and Michelle Peoples and Jeff Majors and Stephen Fitzhugh and Kyle Douthit! How? Rhonda Kingsley is MY sister! Completely undeserved! Totally lucky! Deeply and richly blessed by God!

Don’t wait until next week. Tell the people you love that you love them.

Peace,

Allan

No Gift to Bring

December 29, 2025 / / 0 Comments

What an indescribable joy to have all the girls, all the sons-in-law, and all the grandsons for five nights and parts of six days over Christmas. We ate our favorite foods, watched the right movie on the correct night, worshiped together at GCR, walked the lights at Centennial Park, gave and received generous and fun gifts, survived a broken garage door and a busted exterior water faucet, played ping-pong, fed the boys their first ever bites of Blue Bell Cookies n Cream, and gave ourselves headaches laughing so hard during five rounds of Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza.

I thank God for our family and for the time he gives us to spend together. Blessings upon blessings of his grace. Thank you, Lord.

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The lyrics to The Little Drummer Boy are sparse. What words we have are so crowded out by all the “pa-rum-pum-pum-pums” that it’s hard to tell what’s really happening. But when the young boy peers into the manger, the newborn King he sees causes the drummer to say, “I am a poor boy, too; I have no gift to bring.”

We’ve all experienced that moment. We begin to seriously consider Jesus, maybe for the first time in a long time, maybe for the first time ever. We seriously seek Jesus. And something happens. We believe. Really. We understand. Truly. Something clicks. The dots are connected. The light bulb flashes on. And you realize your bankruptcy is totally exposed. You really see Jesus and you really comprehend his glory and you look at yourself and realize, “I am broken. I am empty and poor. I’ve got nothing to bring this King that even comes close to what is due him. All I have is this drum.”

Like the little boy in the Gospels who approaches Jesus and says, “All I have is my lunch, two loaves and five tiny fish.”

Like the widow and her two mites. Jesus says she gave more than all the others combined.

That’s us. We’re the ones who feel completely inadequate and, in some sense, we always will. When we see the King and we understand exactly who he is and his eternal significance, we can’t help but sense our own frailty. Our own poverty. All we have is this drum. What in the world could ever be enough for this King? I’ve just got this drum.

So you ask. “Do you want that? Do you want this stupid drum?”

And Jesus says, “Yes. Bring me your nothing. Play your drum.”

So you play it for him. You play your best for him–declaring that you are small, acknowledging that you are weak, knowing that he doesn’t need you or what you have or what you do. But with all that you are, with every ounce and speck of the nothing you have, you are giving it to him. Like Psalm 103, you are praising the Lord with all your inmost being! You are giving it to him!

“Then he smiled at me; me and my drum.”

The eternal King of Glory, the Almighty Creator of Heaven and Earth, comes here to us as a helpless flesh-and-blood human baby. He put aside his power and his status and his position to give to us. By his life of love, his sacrificial death, and his glorious resurrection. our King gives us forgiveness, he reconciles us to a righteous relationship with our God and with one another, he gives us his divine peace and joy and life. He gives us abundant life, life to the full.

“Apart from me you can do nothing… Remain in my love… I am telling you this so my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete… You are my friends… I have called you friends… You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit–fruit that will last.” ~John 15:5-17

Without Jesus, you and I have nothing. We are nothing. But because of Jesus, because he came, because he was born in that stable in Bethlehem on that starry night, because of him, we are absolutely, completely, and wonderfully his. Me and my drum–all his!

Jesus is not nearly as interested in my presents for him as my presence with him. That’s all he wants. He wants me. He wants you. Give yourself to him. Give all of yourself to Jesus. And feel his smile.

May we all see the newborn King with fresh eyes and open hearts. And may we follow his lead. Let’s trade our cravings for power for a desire to sacrifice. Let’s be identified by our patience with others, by our service to the least of these, and by our unconditional love for our neighbors. And let’s adopt the humble attitude of the Little Drummer Boy and receive the gracious gift of Jesus.

Peace,
Allan

December Inevitabilities

December 15, 2025 / / 0 Comments


December means Christmas parties, trips to see Santa, and the Cowboys being eliminated from the postseason. Let’s take those annual winter inevitabilities in reverse order.

If your quarterback is struggling and your offense stinks, just play the Cowboys. Once again, the Dallas defense made a bad offense look good and a mediocre quarterback look like Joe Montana in last night’s embarrassing home loss to the Vikings. Minnesota rookie J.J. McCarthy, in just his eighth start, threw for the most yards in a game in his career, averaged 10.4 yards per attempt, threw for two TDs, and ran for another. After beating the Eagles and Chiefs in back-to-back games, Dallas has now given up 78 points in two straight losses to demolish whatever hope a few Cowboys fans might have had.

I feel sorry for Dak. I really do. Prescott now becomes only the third quarterback in NFL history to start for the same team for at least ten years and not win at least one divisional playoff game (the other two are Tony Romo and Archie Manning). Dak is finishing his tenth season as the Cowboys QB, his fifth missing the playoffs.

It’s not his fault.

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The grandsons saw Santa Claus over the weekend and, by all accounts, killed it. Not a problem. Elliott didn’t fully embrace the experience the way Samuel did. But he didn’t cry. He endured.

In case you’re wondering, yes, the boys do own several pairs of shoes.

I was relieved to see that Santa is aware of Oklahoma. I’ve never been sure about that.

But it doesn’t matter because the boys are coming to Midland one week from tomorrow for Christmas and Santa and all that entails. It’ll be their first-ever trip to Texas. They might bring their parents.

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Our dynamic GCR youth group finished their progressive Christmas dinner at Stanglin Manor last night. Somewhere between 40-45 teenagers and a few brave adults (that’s only about a third of the people in that picture) crammed into our living room for desserts, hot chocolate, and an awkward gift exchange. It was another inspirational demonstration of the intergenerational nature of our congregation.

If our teenagers at GCR know anything, it’s that the adults in our church love them and support them and want the best for them and enjoy spending time with them. We work really hard to ensure our young people know they are a vital part of our community of faith. And these same teenagers are pouring into our children’s ministry, too. One of the coolest things I’ve seen at GCR was at the kids’ Christmas pageant Wednesday evening when four rows of our youth group showed up to support and cheer on the children!

I thank God for what he’s doing in and through our youth group. These are all fabulous kids who really do love this church and each other. I’ll continue to say that if you want your kids to truly be more like Jesus, if you’re really serious about the spiritual formation of your teenager, you want him or her to spend as much time with Jadyn and J.E. as possible. And with this group.

Peace,
Allan

Despite the Ruins Around Us

December 8, 2025 / / 0 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our grandsons are five months old today. Elliott (left) has two bottom teeth now and weighs in at a whopping 16 pounds, while Samuel (right) is maintaining his one pound deficit at 15. Samuel’s hair, when the light hits it just right, looks like a Mohawk. Elliott is working hard on a way to shove his entire fist into his mouth. And they’re both laughing and giggling or making other happy noises almost all the time. What a delight! These boys continue to bring me so much joy!

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Dietrich Bonhoeffer sent a Christmas card to his parents from his cell at Tegel Prison in Berlin on November 28, 1943. The front of the card pictured this above nativity scene painted by Albrecht Altdorfer in 1513. In the card, Bonhoeffer says this is his favorite depiction of the nativity:

“One sees the holy family huddled around the manger amidst the rubble of a collapsed house. This is really contemporary.”

At the time, this painting was 430 years old. I’m sure it reminded Bonhoeffer of the destruction in his own country, the bombed out houses and buildings in his own hometown. This picture could have been painted almost anywhere in Europe in the middle of World War II. And what Bonhoeffer wrote about it during Advent 1943 could have been written today during Advent 2025:

“The celebration of Advent is only possible to those troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who look forward to something greater to come. We can and should celebrate Christmas despite the ruins around us. In fact, we must do this even more intensely now.”

Lord, come quickly.
Allan

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