Taken from
“If It Weren’t For Us Christians” by bobby weaver. You can order a copy from Amazon by clicking on
this link. By the way,
the book hit Number 10 on Amazon’s Christian best-seller list. Yippie!
If It Weren’t For Us Christians
Chapter Twenty One
Chasing Rabbits and Howard Stern
I vividly recall the Sunday morning in 1998 when I chased my first rabbit. I didn’t know I was chasing rabbits, but evidently I was. And I certainly did not know there was an unspoken rule that we were not supposed to chase rabbits. In case you aren’t familiar, these rabbits aren’t the kind that eat carrots and do Easter. No, these rabbits are actual discussion topics concerning Christianity.
For instance, if your Sunday school class is discussing the Old Testament prophets and someone asks if the class believes Judas Iscariot is in hell, that question could be considered chasing a rabbit. It is a legitimate question but if it is not directly related to the discussion at hand, someone in the class may accuse the person that brought up this subject of chasing a rabbit. In the presence of some people, you could get drawn and quartered for such an offense. Yes, these folks may have been interested in a particular rabbit chasing subject earlier in their Christian journey, but as they matured in Christ, they became less willing to go on the chase.
My rabbit was the Catholic faith. I was chasing it about a year after the “Howard Stem” incident. Oh, I haven’t mentioned that, have I? Yes, I had an argument with Howard on a national radio broadcast that ultimately led to my accepting Christ. What! God used that shock-jock to bring someone to Christ? No way! Way! If you don’t mind, we shall chase the Howard Stem rabbit for a moment or two. Here are the Cliff Notes of my testimony:
I mentioned in an earlier chapter about my risqué newspaper called Beach Bull that Satan and I founded in 1990. My lifestyle as publisher of the Bull was just a snitch on the disgusting side as I spent the next few years divorcing my wife, gambling, getting ripped and in general, just living a life of debauchery.
Then one day in the fall of 1996, I received a phone call from a local radio station. They had bought the syndicated Howard Stem Show and needed a “generic” celebrity to officially welcome him and his show to the local market. I was offered the opportunity, and gladly accepted. I had a secret agenda that you will understand in a few minutes.
As some of you may remember, October of ’96 was a fine time in the life of baseball fans, especially Atlanta Brave fans. The Braves were in the World Series and had traveled to the Big Apple to whip up on the mighty Yankees. Atlanta dominated in the first two games of the series, 12 to and 4 to 0. And I know some of you guys won’t believe this, but Yankee fans don’t take it lightly when a team, especially a Southern team, comes to town and puts a hurtin’ on their boys! We’re talking booing, hissing, throwing cups and even tossing an occasional hamburger… of course, if you’ve ever attempted to eat a burger at Yankee stadium, you will understand that pitching them onto the field is completely justifiable. I’ve eaten tastier hockey pucks. But back to the fan behavior, I found it to be a bit on the rude side.
Fast-forward to the big day, the Howard Stem Show in all his glory was coming to the Florida Panhandle…and I was laying in wait. The media were all there including the local newspaper and various affiliated radio stations. The big moment arrived and the local announcer proclaimed: “And now ladies and gentlemen, we cut live to New York City and the world-famous Howard Stem Show!
Time out while I give you some background. Since this incident happened many years ago, I decided to go down to the local library and look up on microfilm the newspaper article that appeared in our local paper concerning the Stem incident. Since my memory of the event and the newspaper article differed somewhat, in the interest of accuracy, I will report what happened according to the printed article. The story did say however, that much of what was said on-air could not be printed in a family newspaper. Okay, here we go:
When it was my tum at the microphone, instead of welcoming him and his show to the area, I reminded Howard that the Braves were putting a whipping on his Yankees and that I couldn’t decide who was ruder, folks from New York or New Jersey. Well, Howard was quick to respond by saying and I quote: “The rudest person on the planet is your mother who raised you and gave you such a foul mouth.” As I recall, he also directed some other comments at my mother but since they weren’t in the article, I won’t go down that road. But regardless, his comments didn’t bother me one bit until…
The very next morning, as I said before, there was a page 2 article in our local daily newspaper, the News Herald. It had a big picture of me in front of the microphone and the quote from Howard that my mother was the rudest person on the planet for raising me with such a foul mouth. That is the morning that if I had been suicidal, I would have blown my brains out. My Christian mother, who was the absolute sweetest, genteel southern woman to ever draw a breath, was humiliated. Several of her friends were nice enough to bring the article to her attention. It was by far the most embarrassing day of my life… and hers. I sincerely wanted to die, but was too afraid to pull the trigger. In retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t have the guts, because that would have resulted in a free, all expense paid, one-way ticket to hell, with or without the hand basket.
Enter God into the picture. As you might have guessed, God had been busy behind the scenes orchestrating this entire situation. He knew what it would take to get my attention. He had tried before when he helped me bankrupt Marlenna Fashions, my multi-million dollar apparel business. Unfortunately, I paid him no attention. But when I humiliated my wonderful mother, well, that did it… God had my full and undivided attention.
I remember that morning well. As God would have it, we had recently moved our Beach Bull office from Panama City Beach to downtown Panama City. Our office was now smack dab in the middle of what I referred to as a “nest of Christians.” So I walked into work that day and here were all these folks walking around smiling and laughing. They acted as if they didn’t have a care in the world. And I recall thinking to myself: “I don’t have a clue what these people have, but I want some of it.”
Enter Randy McInvale. I considered Randy the leader of this “nest” of Christians. He explained to me that my life was pretty much going down the toilet because I was running the show. He suggested I give God a shot. Randy began witnessing to me, and about four months later (February 27, 1997) on the back steps of the office complex, I turned the Bobby Weaver Show over to Christ. If it weren’t for Randy McInvale and the Holy Spirit, this boy would still be headed south. I can never thank God enough for sending Randy my way… you talk about changing an eternal destination!
I have always imagined seeing Jesus that morning as he watched Randy lead me in saying the sinner’s prayer. I can just see him wiping his brow and saying to himself: “Wow! This is gonna be a challenge! ” And believe me, if he did say that, he was spot on! I came with more baggage than an over-booked Delta flight. And with my luck, none of it was lost in Atlanta. Now that is a miracle!
Did I mention that a few years back I had divorced my wife? Yes, my Christian wife. Did I mention that a few years back I had broken the hearts of my three young daughters? Yes, and two of those daughters had accepted Christ. Did I mention that I was a major league scumbag? And God took me back in spite of all that. Talk about amazing grace!
Then God got busy. First, he began chipping away at my sins. I’m thinking he-used one of those jackhammers from a road building crew… went through a lot of drill bits no doubt. I’ve managed to hold on to as many sins as I can. After all, they are my babies; I’ve raised them since childhood. But slowly and surely, God is taking them. And in the meantime, guess what! He put my wife and me back together. Yes, Vicki and I gave divorce our best shot… but it just didn’t work out.
I will absolutely never forget the Christmas morning of 2001. I met all four of the girls at my ex-wife’s house to open Christmas presents. I asked that they all gather around and open their gifts simultaneously. I am getting tears in my eyes just typing this stuff. All of a sudden there was a collective gasp from my daughters… they hadn’t seen it coming! It was a wedding invitation that read something to the effect of: “If You Aren’t Too Busy On Or About The 20th Of July of 2002, Your Attendance At Your Parent’s Re-Marriage Ceremony Would Be Greatly Appreciated.” Screams! Hugs! And the most important thing… Jesus was now running the show. It was the most wonderful moment of my life! My girls were absolutely beside themselves. And Vicki? Hey, she got me back… but she was happy in spite of that!
And the story has one more surprising twist. About two years later, I was sitting at home one evening and the phone rings. It was Marlenna, our oldest daughter. She was calling from Orlando where she lived and worked. She simply said, “Hey Dad, I said the prayer tonight.” Being dumb me I asked, “What prayer?” “You know, Dad, the prayer. I accepted Jesus tonight.” After about fifteen minutes of yelling and praising God, the celebration finally started to die down. Then it occurred to me… the trifecta was complete! My entire family was not only reunited but all five of us had accepted Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. Like the beer commercial said, “It just don’t get any better than that!”
Now, with my testimony complete it’s time to chase one last rabbit. As I was saying earlier, I remember those early days after accepting Christ. It was an exciting time to study and learn more about Christianity, and I had about a gazillion questions. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that the more mature Christians already had those same questions… about twenty years earlier. And some of them were in no mood to go over the same stuff again.
In fact, still unknown to her, one of the members of my Sunday school class almost ended my Christian career before it really got started. It seems one day that I was “at it again” as some of my classmates described my constant question-asking habit. And out of the blue, one gal spoke up in a less than friendly tone and said, “Let’s quit chasing rabbits and get on with our study!” It was like slapping me in the face! And although I never told anyone why, I did not return to that Sunday school class for almost three years. But here’s the point of this chapter: I’m afraid there may be some seekers or new Christians out there that might have never returned.
We all go off on tangents now and again. But when a seeker or new Christian goes down that road, I firmly believe we all need to be as tolerant as possible. If we aren’t, it’s like saying: “We all know there’s no such thing as a stupid question… but that’s a stupid question.”
Maybe we should all try to remember that four seemingly innocuous little words like “Let’s quit chasing rabbits” could discourage, if not entirely derail, a person’s walk with Christ… and that’s one train wreck I don’t think any of us want to be responsible for.
On Dec. 19, 1999 a major rain storm hit Brooklyn, New York. When the newly-assigned pastor went to check on the church, his heart sank. After months of hard work getting the church ready to reopen, he saw that the roof had leaked, causing an area of plaster (about 10 feet by 8 feet) to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary. Not knowing what else to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, he headed home.
