Historically speaking, Payback doesn't work

If you ever had reason to drive west of Utley, Texas, it would be easy to pass up the historical marker on the south side of FM 969. But if you did have time to stop and see what it says, it would tell you very little about what actually happened there. It's a place where people lived and died 171 years ago. A place where both dreams and nightmares came true.

FRONTIER FAMILY

One of the brave families who settled the frontier lived here when it was a lot easier to die than to actually live. Texas had just won her independence from Mexico, and the Coleman family settled on land deeded to them by Austin himself.

Robert and Elizabeth Coleman fought the Mexicans, the Comanches and the harsh Texas elements while scratching the ground for food and having babies. They lived with very little comfort on the Colorado River, and Robert commanded the fort nearby. They looked forward to a day where living would be less dangerous and survival more likely, but Robert never saw that day.

In 1837, Robert drowned in the Brazos River, and Elizabeth did not have the luxury to spend a season in mourning. Now she was a single mother with a three year old boy, a twelve year old boy and several daughters whose ages are not known to us now. For the next two years, she successfully fought and lived harder than most can imagine, nearly completely isolated from the rest of the world.

By then, her oldest boy Albert was fourteen, and he was a huge help in every way. The Coleman daughters had never known anything but frontier life, and they fit well into the rhythm of the farm. Tommy was now five and spent his days chasing rabbits and catching horned toads.

INDIAN BLOODBATH

On February 18, 1839, Elizabeth was working in the garden when she saw a raiding party of Comanche Indians coming full gallop towards the house. She screamed to the kids to get inside and for Albert to prepare to defend himself. Little Tommy was too far away to make it to the house in time, and as Elizabeth stood in the doorway, an Indian arrow pierced her throat. She fell where she stood in a bloody clump of writhing panic. As Albert frantically dragged her past the threshold, a Comanche picked up Tommy for parts unknown. Albert fired off a shot from his muzzleloader while his mother lay gurgling, and his sisters continued screaming from under the bed.

In the chaos and panic, I would imagine Albert found it difficult to reload the awkward rifle. He had no idea a Comanche warrior had his sights on him through a crack in the side of the house.

Several hours later, would-be rescuers arrived to find Tommy had been kidnapped and Albert, Elizabeth and one Comanche warrior dead. The girls were still under the bed and had to be pried away from their hiding place: a fairly common scene in early Texas history. An injustice barely comprehensible. The settlers vowed revenge for the horrific act of savagery, and they would have it.

THE REST OF THE STORY

If after this reading this, your blood is boiling a little, as it should, let me tell you another part of this same story. Like you, Elizabeth had no way of knowing, not that she would have cared, that the Comanches assaulting her were the surviving remnant of an Indian village who had just been massacred by settlers.

Four days earlier on February 14th, John Henry Moore had taken a Texan raiding party to find Indians and attacked a village at sunrise on the San Saba River. Besides warriors, women, children and the elderly were cut down, indiscriminately shot and left for dead. The surviving Comanches vowed revenge for the horrific act of savagery, and they would have it in the Coleman family, miles away.

Now before your blood boils at John Moore, as it should, let me tell you another part of this story. John Henry Moore was hunting Indians in retaliation of an attack on another family, and those Indians were hunting settlers in retaliation of another attack on an Indian village. The Cycle of Death goes on and on, and the stories are tragic and horrific.

IT A'INT YOURS

Revenge does not belong to us. It belongs to God. Mama taught me a long time ago not to take what doesn't belong to me, and the Brewer is reminding you to do the same. Revenge in the hands of a Holy God is a Holy thing. Revenge in the hands of somebody like me is an ugly thing that does more damage and very little good. Revenge in God’s hand brings Justice, but in our hands brings evil, even on innocent people. Next time you and I have trouble believing that, we should think about poor Albert trying to drag his mama in the house with an arrow through her throat or the panic and terror that little Indian girl must have felt as she took her last breath on the San Saba.

Forgiveness and trusting in the Lord to make things right comes from God Himself. Revenge belongs to Him. The choice to not be a bigger part of the problem belongs to you and me.

Deuteronomy 32:35

Vengeance is Mine, and recompense...

The Brewer pastors Open Door Ministries near Joshua and can be found at www.opendoorministries.org and troybrewer.com

Eye Witness

What’s the most unbelievable thing you know for a fact that you have actually seen? Was it the Marfa Lights or something spooky? Did you have a run in with Big Foot, or maybe your friend’s nephew was born with a full set of teeth?

While I have not seen any of those things, except for the Marfa Lights, like any good Texan, I have seen some doosies. In the past ten years, I have had the privilege of visiting around twenty nations throughout the world; I’ve preached in at least 50 different prisons here in Texas and some of those, many times. My missionary journeys have taken me from the trash dumps of Matamoros, Mexico to the temple mount in Jerusalem, Israel.

God has always called people out of their normal environments to do His work, and our life’s journey is full of incredible scenery. When you get out there, and if you stay out there long enough, you are going to see some things that will blow your mind.

I actually saw the King sitting on his throne in Uganda. I saw two men fight to the death with machetes in Havana, Cuba. I saw a barefooted baby boy take his first steps in a horrible trash dump in Mexico while his mother cried for joy and applauded.

I saw elephants crossing the road in front of me near Rwanda. I saw a piece of a train on my front porch after a tornado came by my house in Johnson County.
I have been inside real castles in Scotland, grass huts in India and cardboard boxes under the I-45 bridge in Dallas. I have seen the top floor of the Hilton in Dallas and the morgue of Harris Hospital.

These are first hand accounts of things I have actually seen with my own two eyes. I could begin to tell you about miracles I have seen and changed lives I have encountered. I even wrote a book that tells of some of those events and what the Lord taught me through them.
If you didn’t believe me, I would mostly be okay with that. I might have my feelings a little bit hurt because you thought my character so low that I would print a lie, but nonetheless, I would get over it.

Now consider this, 2000 years ago a couple of hundred people, including the 11 disciples, said they personally saw Jesus after he had been dead—first hand. Not that a friend had seen Him, but they themselves actually saw Him in the flesh. They didn’t say they saw a fleeting glimpse, but rather they walked with Him, ate with Him, touched Him and talked with Him for more than a month after his resurrection.

All of these men went to their graves standing strong with the same original story. Have you ever considered what kind of grave this story took them to?

James was beheaded by Herod in Jerusalem because of his eye witness account. Peter went to Asia Minor, and tradition says he was crucified, upside down, in Rome. Andrew, Peter’s brother, went to Greece and southern Russia where he was crucified. Philip was stoned, drawn and quartered, and then his remains were hung up in Hierapolis.

Bartholomew went to Armenia and was skinned alive. Thomas went to Persia and to India; he was killed with a spear while telling people he had actually seen Jesus resurrected. Matthew went to Ethiopia and was killed by sword while visiting Egypt. James the Lesser, preached right there in Palestine and later went to Egypt where he was crucified by the Romans.
Mark was dragged by horses through the streets of Alexandria, Egypt. Luke was hanged in Greece. James the Just was thrown off of the pentacle of the temple. Mathias, the apostle that took the place of Judas, was stoned and then beheaded in Jerusalem. Paul was tortured and then beheaded by Nero in Rome.

All of these men died alone, separated from the others in different parts of the world, and yet, not a single one said this was all a hoax or a sham. Every single one of these men went to their deaths praising God and declaring to their murderers, “He’s alive! We saw Him, we ate with Him, He preached to us! Jesus Christ is resurrected from the dead!”

The Brewer believes the eyewitness accounts of those world changing people. As your kids are out looking for colorful eggs from an imaginary rabbit this Easter, make sure you all have a peek at the very real empty tomb in Jerusalem. I have looked in there myself. Jesus is not there. He is risen!

To contact The Brewer, visit us online at www.FreshFromTheBrewer.com

Texans and Tall Taxi Tales

It was a little after 5 in the afternoon when our plane touched down at DFW. The squelch of the tires on the tarmac was one of the most beautiful sounds I’ve heard in a very long time. It had been a month and over 22,000 miles since I last saw Texas and as we taxied to the gate I could hardly wait to kiss my bride and eat an enchilada…in that order.

After a month in India, I have never enjoyed a traffic jam like I did from the airport. Not a single rickshaw or holy cow blocking the highway. It was awesome. All of the Brewer clan went directly, on the right side of the road, to my favorite Tex-Mex joint. It was a lot like what I imagine heaven to be. Family, fellowship and guacamole.

This trip to India was my most successful mission to that part of the word yet. We actually stayed at the orphanage we support and spent a lot of time with my 300 kids. We visited our leper colony and hosted more than 50 pastors at an encouragement conference. I was able to hire an Indian band to back me and one Monday night we did a praise and worship concert for as many people as could stand a song in English. What a hoot!

It was powerful and life changing but it was not without incident. When you travel throughout the world, really anything can happen. Third world countries can be dangerous places and you have to really believe God for protection on so many levels.

Taxis in one form or another have been around for as long as there have been people that needed them. By the end of the 19th century, cars began to appear on NYC streets and it wasn’t long before a number of these cars were hiring themselves out in competition with horse-drawn carriages. Although these electric-powered cabs were slightly impractical with batteries weighing upwards of eight hundred pounds, by 1899 there were nearly one hundred of them on the streets.

Progress has always had its price, and on September 13th of that year, a sixty-eight year-old man named Henry H. Bliss was helping a friend from a streetcar when a taxi swerved and hit him. This gave Bliss the dubious distinction of being the first American to die in a car wreck, and giving cabbies a first glimpse at a reputation they would soon solidify.

I have been in taxicabs all over the world. I think that London has the Best taxicabs and San Francisco has the craziest cab drivers, or at least the funnest. I don’t mind hoping in a cab from time to time so it didn’t bother me to take one from the domestic airport to the international airport in Bombay.

I thought a cab ride through the rugged streets of Bombay might be fun. You never know when you might come across a rope trick or maybe even a cobra charmer. It just so happens though that the cab that my son and I climbed into Bombay was not actually a cab but part a small crew of thieves that looks for gullible fat white guys to rob.

The bottom line is that we were not taken to the airport but the bad part of town where our driver picked up a cohort and commenced to rob us. There is a whole lot to this story but let me tell you this. By the time it was over, we were safely at the airport, with our passports and luggage intact. It really was a miracle.

These confessions of a highly caffeinated Christian only go so far but let me give God glory for giving me and my 16 year old son the ability to overcome those robbers. They got away with a few dollars from Bens front pocket but with a lot less pride and a few less teeth after it was all over with.

My suggestion to the robbers is to not tangle with two men of God from Texas. Especially ones nearly crazy from a lack of enchiladas. If you know my grandmother Francis Millican, please don’t tell her this part of the story. I’m in enough trouble for going there anyway.

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust. Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield."
Psalms 91:1-4

Spartans, Texans and Warrior Kings

Almost 500 years before Christ, a Spartan army of only 300 men stood against a million or so Persians at a place called Thermopylae. Now the Brewer is not particularly a big fan of ancient Spartans. Besides destroying the fair city my mama named me after with a stinking wooden horse, they were also known to be racist and Pagans that had no mercy for anyone. With that said, the Texan in me can’t help but love the astonishing quality of warriors they produced.

The King that is so famous for this military miracle was a guy by the name of Leonidas. What I just love about King Leonidas is that he wasn’t just a king, he was a warrior King. He didn’t sit on a golden thrown and order men to fight. He fought out front of all his men and invited them to fight with him. I love the whole idea of a warrior king.

Almost two hundred years later another warrior king rose from the same part of the world but this one would be remembered as “Great”. Alexander conquered the known world not for any righteous reason but just because he wanted to. Before it was over, millions would be dead and many more hurting because of Alexander’s ambition of conquest. Though I don’t much care for his empire any better, I can’t help but love the fact that he was a warrior King.

After Alexander turned south on the Indus River he encountered a warlike clan called the Mali. After building siege weapons and ladders they attacked the walled city and Alexander was the first one over the walls. He was so far ahead of the rest of his men that he actually engaged the entire army by his self while his men scrambled to keep up with him. With an arrow in his lung and a sword in his hand Alexander the great fought in hand-to-hand combat until his men were able to subdue the enemy. I love a warrior King.

Almost 2300 years later on holy ground that would be called Texas, a General with a righteous cause, raced across the San Jacinto battlefield. Though vastly outnumbered and in broad day light, Sam Houston was so far ahead of the rest of his men that he drew all the fire of the Mexican dictator’s troops. Having two horses shot out from under him, he limped towards the enemy with pointed sword yelling, “Remember the Alamo, Remember Goliad!”

Sam Houston would soon be the President of the nation of Texas. Though he was a political leader he was also a proven warrior. I love a warrior King.

Being a fairly famous Jesus freak with ever growing popularity, I get a lot of letters and e-mails. Most of them cuss me but there are more and more asking me what denomination or nondenominational group I subscribe to. I am for what ever in Christianity is wimp free. Sign me up with the Christians that have the guts to be Christians in a day where men act more like women then men. Show me those Christians that are not just talking about the love of God but actually demonstrating it through the hard work it takes to make a real difference in somebody’s life. Put me in line with the people that are living proof that God never consults your history before giving you a future.

You see; real Christians don’t just serve a King. They serve a passionate, warrior King and those of us that follow him live a lifetime of learning how to get out of His way and let him fight like He wants to. Not only is Christ not scared of the battles that you and I face, he actually gets excited about the prospect of another glorious scrap. That’s the way our King is. Unlike any we have ever seen before, He’s compassionate, ready to serve, approachable and full of mercy but make no mistake about it. He is a warrior King.

Exodus 15:3

The LORD is a man of war: the LORD is his name.

Contact Email: The Brewer welcomes your input at FFTB@OpenDoorMinistries.org

Contact by Phone: 817-297-6911.

Please visit us online at http://www.opendoorministries.org/ & http://www.joshuarising.com/

FREEDOM FIGHTER

That’s 70’s show

7^th grade at Joshua middle school was a great year for me. Back in 79 it was principled by the very man its named after now. Mr Loflin ran the school, Coach Nichols ruled the roost but a man named Dub Crocker tought the Texas history class.

It was a very political class for seventh graders because Mr Crocker, was all fired up about the mess America was in at the time. Before I finished 7^th grade I understood what an interest rate was and I knew that it was at 24% for house mortgages and that I should be outraged over that. That same year, I learned where Panama was and I knew that president Carter had given it away and that I should have been upset. “Teddy rosevelt was rolling in his grave,” I learned. Though I had never heard of Iran before the 7^th grade I knew that we had hostages there and our American embassy was taken over because everybody knew we were a bunch of “Pushovers” that wouldn’t do anything.

What did that have to with Texas History? Well, Mr Crocker saw the world in terms of how it effected Texas. He was a Texan and that’s the way most of us see things.

Gone to Texas

Out of all the things I learned in that incredible year, there is one thing that he introduced me to that started a life long fascination and passion that continues today. I had heard about the Alamo before 7^th grade but not like he taught it. We actually studied the 13 day siege and the three warriors that some would revere as the trinity itself. Travis, Bowie and the coon- skined cap wearing “Lion of the West” Davey Crocket.

You don’t have to be black to revere Martin Luther King Jr as an amazingly great man and you don’t have to be Catholic to love Mother Theresa as an awesome woman. Just like that, you don’t have to be Texan to love Travis and the guys at the Alamo.

Freedom Fighter

I have read more than a dozen books on the subject and actually visited the shrine of Texas at least thirty times. In my mind Crocket is still on those adobe walls firing against all odds and Houston is still on his white horse in full gallop towards Santa Anna’s tent. Call me a sap but I love the romantic notion of freedom fighting.

On March 3, 1836 William Barret Travis frantically scribbled a few lines wile under cannon siege.

“Take care of my little boy. If the country should be saved, I may make for him a splendid fortune; but if the country be lost and I should perish, he will have nothing but the proud recollection that he is the son of a man who died for his country.”

Travis loved freedom and the letter to David Ayers is the last known letter written by Travis before the fall of the Alamo on the morning of March 6. Travis died at his post in hand to hand combat on the cannon platform at the northeast corner of the fortress. He was 26 years old.

Houston, Travis, Austin, Crocket, Sequin, Bowie and Bonham set a standard for all of Texas that followed them. A tradition and heritage of Freedom, guts and rugged individualism.

God and Texas

It is the nature of people to conform to the image of what makes them tick. It is a biblical principle and a matter of fact that God made us to take on the characteristics of the things we love. Whether its Heavy metal, the military or Nascar, if you look at something long enough-you start to look like it.

Because of this principle, I have noticed that while not all revolutionaries are Godly people, all Godly people are revolutionaries in one way or another. A true characteristic of the love of God is to hate bondage and oppression.

Nearly 2000 years before Travis fell at the Alamo, Jesus Christ was lifted on the cross.

He hated the oppression and bondage of sin so much that he was willing to die to overcome it. He loved humanity and wanted us to be set free so bad that he was willing to give his own life on our behalf. He didn’t die for nothing, he died and rose again so that you and I could have a real shot at true freedom.

God Almighty is not your warden, He is your deliverer and as the bible says, he whom the Son sets free is free in deed. In Galatians 5:1 Paul declares “It is for Freedom Christ has set us free. God loves to scrap for your freedom friend, so take advantage of it. It is the Brewer’s humble opinion that only though Christ will you find the freedom to forgive, to have joy, to have peace, to love God and to pursue a life of passion that really makes a difference. Freedom isn’t for wimps but it’s offered to everybody.