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David Porter

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About David Porter

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  • Birthday 01/02/1950

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  1. Have you ever tried to tell a joke in another language than your own? A little advice—don’t. When we first moved to Luxembourg we had a coffee house outreach in a ground-floor apartment just over the border in a tough part of the town of Mont Saint Martin, France. We had regular visitors each week but not many were evidently interested in spiritual things. They were more interested in free cokes and cookies. These rowdy teens made it hard to share the Gospel. They were about as loud as I was. It was the beginning of our ministry in Europe and I struggled to communicate in French.
  2. How did you like my headline? It more truthful than most, huh? I get a bit cynical at this time of the year as I read eye-catching article headlines like, “Five Sure-fire Ways To Grow Hair,” “33 Proven Tricks To Shed 350 Pounds Quickly,” or “Here’s Three Secrets To Go From Really Ugly to Really Beautiful In the Blink Of An Eye.” Or some such drivel. I could headline this article, « Seven Keys to Total Victory This Year. » Or how about, « Here’s Seven Steps To the Life You Want In 2017. » I’m sure I’ve probably used something similar because that’s part of the formula. Promise th
  3. I like those old football movies where the coach fires up his down-trodden players at halftime. The other team is up 73-0 but the coach, who resembles Ronald Reagan, restores their courage with a passionate speech. “Win one for the Gipper!” (And everyone under 40 says, “Who is the Gipper?”) Supercharged with energy from the speech the team explodes from the locker room and goes on to win the game 74-73. (When you are Hollywood you can make it come out however you want). But, how do real-life people who love the Lord, get a refill of courage when they find themselve
  4. The other day my wife and I were at a restaurant with my daughter Christi, who is a nurse. I noticed she was looking at the veins in my arms. “You’ve got good veins daddy.” Kind of makes me nervous when a nurse looks at my veins like that. But, it also encourages me to think that if doctors and nurses have to get life-giving medicine into my body, they won’t have to dig around a long time. Vein Poppers So get your veins popping out and I’ll inject the medicine you need to get into your spirit so that you can get healed from paralyzing fear. Why is it importa
  5. Let’s pretend that you and I are out for a walk and we come across a blind fellow. « Hey, how are you doing? » we say. « Whoah. What is this? » he says out loud. I’m not sure you’re really there. I can’t see you. First of all, if you’re there, prove it. I kind of think you must be but I’m not sure." So, I turn to you and say, « Let’s prove to him that we exist. Give him a hundred dollars. » You frown as if to say, « Why don’t you give him a hundred dollars," but since you’re rich you pull out your wallet and give it to him. “Okay, this is good so how can I be sure you’r
  6. If my little brother wasn’t such a nice guy I’d be in big trouble now. As the youngest of the family he fell prey to the tricks of our sister, ummm … and me. Like the time he slept peacefully on the couch and I stuck ammonia under his nose. Back then I thought it was funny. Now, I think that I must have had a strange sense of humor. Now, Charley is nice, but it must be admitted that he tried to get me back. I slept with one eye open after that, waiting for justice to even the score. He still owes me after all these years so I hope he’s forgotten it.
  7. There’s a palpable sense of frustration, anger and fear in the air all around the world today. In the USA it expresses itself through Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders. England shocked the world with its Brexit. In France, the far-right party of Marine LePen serves as a megaphone for those who are fed up with the status quo. These feelings always exist but it seems that they are boiling rather than simmering now. When people get mad good things can happen. In the United States MADD (“Mothers Against Drunk Driving”) was born from the anger of Candy Lightner who lost her
  8. I survived the first war of the scorpions. Four years ago I stayed in a duplex located in the countryside for about five weeks. Birds sang, crickets cricketed, and I could see a beautiful lake from my front door. And I was nervous and on edge for five weeks. Drought bit the Texas countryside at the time and it must have brought out the scorpions. I never saw so many scorpions in my life—in the kitchen sink, climbing on curtains, lurking on the bathroom floor, in the garage. At the end of five weeks the score was Porter 30, Scorpions 0. That’s how many sco
  9. I wonder if I’m the only speaker who ever said something, then later said to himself, “That was right, but …” Recently I was preaching. I shared something I had heard. “When we’re dealing with God we say, “Lord, the answer is yes,' what’s the question?’” Warming to the subject I noted, “We should hand God a blank check with our signature at the bottom, then say, ‘God, fill it in for whatever amount you want to.’” The attitude is right. “Lord, anytime, anywhere, any place.” That is what we should say to what God asks. The truth of the matter is, thou
  10. When I was about 10 years old I used to love professional wrestling on television. All that prancing, grunting and yelling was set against a backdrop of justice and injustice (good guy versus bad guy). Great stuff. Somewhere, though, I began to notice that it was, well …, fakey, overacted and not very believable. So, I moved on to other things. Flash forward twenty-five years to Petange, Luxembourg. My two teenage sons are draped over chairs in the living room on a Saturday afternoon. They are doing what teenage boys do when they are not sleeping or playing basketball.
  11. Our Coffee Stain this week begins with a little homework. I want you to stand in front of a mirror. [ATTACH=full]1022[/ATTACH] Now, make a sour face. Go ahead. I won’t laugh (much). Now, smile. No, I mean really smile. How did that make you feel? Do you know how silly you look there, grinning in front of your mirror? Got you, didn’t I? Actually this may be serious. Joy isn’t optional for a Christian. It’s commanded. And grinning at your mirror doesn’t fulfill the command. And it’s not a sour joy either--sometimes, our definition of “Christian joy” depres
  12. [ATTACH=full]1013[/ATTACH] Once I attended an orchestra concert in Differdange, Luxembourg. A young lady in our church participated in the evening and I wanted to encourage her. That episode might have passed into the forgetfulness of a thousand other events of life that you do and move on, but someone that night caught my attention. My memory is a bit fuzzy, but the fellow who marked me was a drummer who didn’t have much to do. This fellow looked a bit like a slightly overweight, balding Ian Fleming (you know, the first James Bond guy). In this memory he did mostly n
  13. I am a world-class singer—under the needles of a warm shower. Outside the bathroom, my incredible voice does a ‘Cinderella at midnight’ act and becomes ordinary. I don’t know why that is. I still love to sing, though. Maybe that love was born when I was a kid in our little church back home. Even as an eight-year old you could find me belting out those southern-gospel hymns in the choir. “Choir” was kind of a stretch because the song leader usually invited anyone who wanted to sing in the choir to “come on up and help us.” I’m not sure what the difference was if you sang
  14. When I was little, dogs played an important role as secondary characters in my life. Let’s see, there was Pooh-pooh, Butch, Twist-It, Jack, Churchill, Skipper and probably some more I’ve forgotten. You couldn’t exactly say they were purebred. They had lots of interesting ancestors from a lot of different places. These dogs didn’t exactly belong to people. They just lived a your house. I think they belonged to themselves. I loved to tease them. Sometimes after the meal, when a biscuit somehow escaped our hungry young mouths, I’d give it to the dogs. They
  15. I used to not believe in ghosts. But, I was afraid of them anyway. I mean, how can you get back to sleep when you hear your family’s old house, “creak, creak, creak” at midnight? Chill bumps scramble up your spine, and you’re sure you hear a supernatural being walking from room to room. How could your parents be snoring at a time like this? Don’t they know that they’re supposed to be protecting you? Someone call child welfare. Of course that Alfred Hitchcock ghost movie you watched after school might have something to do with the things
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