FALL RIOT

Next Wednesday, October 1 at 6:30pm, tons of students will come together for for one huge night we call the FALL RIOT!

- Quarterbacks from the local schools will do a QB challenge!
- Linemen will take on cheer squads and drill teams in a hot dog eating contest!
- The night will be filled with music, prizes, games, free food, tons of school spirit, and more!

We want to see every student in the area join us for

FALL RIOT!
Can't wait to see you there!

Hurricane Ike

I haven't really had any power or internet at the house in a week, but for those who have been in a hole for the last week, here are some pictures of the damage from Hurricane Ike:

Our neighborhood:

Our community:

Here are some other pretty incredible pictures:

http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/09/the_short_but_eventful_life_of.html 

WEEKEND SCHEDULE

Power has been restored at the church and we will be having all normal services and Bible studies this weekend!

SERVICES:

  Sat @ 6:00pm

  Sun @ 9:30am & 11:00am

BIBLE STUDY:

  Sat @ 7:15pm

  Sun @ 9:30am & 11:00am 

Baptism Night

God continues to do AMAZING things in the High School Ministry at Second Baptist Church!
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Last night, we got together as a student ministry and had over 235 students and leaders out for a Wednesday night under the pavilion.
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We saw 15 students make first-time decisions for Christ, as well as 12 students choosing to follow Christ by taking that first step of baptism!!!
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Here are some pictures to help you see a little of what happened!

The Vision...

I read this years ago and came across it again this week. Yes it's long, but I promise you it's worth the read...

The Vision - by Pete Greig

So this guy comes up to me and says:
“what’s the vision? What’s the big idea?”
I open my mouth and words come out like this:
The vision?
The vision is JESUS – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.
The vision is an army of young people.
You see bones? I see an army. And they are FREE from materialism.
They laugh at 9-5 little prisons.
They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday.
They wouldn’t even notice.
They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won.
They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations. They need no passport.
People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence.
They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying.

What is the vision ?
The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes.
It makes children laugh and adults angry.
It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars.
It scorns the good and strains for the best.
It is dangerously pure.
Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation.
It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games.
This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause.
A million times a day its soldiers choose to loose,that they might one day win the great ‘Well done’ of faithful sons and daughters.
Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night.
They don’t need fame from names.
Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again: “COME ON!”

And this is the sound of the underground.
The whisper of history in the making.
Foundations shaking
Revolutionaries dreaming once again
Mystery is scheming in whispers
Conspiracy is breathing…This is the sound of the underground

And the army is discipl(in)ed.
Young people who beat their bodies into submission.
Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms.
The tattoo on their back boasts “for me to live is Christ and to die is gain”.
Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes.
Winners.
Martyrs.
Who can stop them ?
Can hormones hold them back?
Can failure succeed?
Can fear scare them or death kill them ?

And the generation prays
like a dying man with groans beyond talking, with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and with great barrow loads of laughter!
Waiting. Watching: 24 – 7 – 365.
Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cosy little hide. Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials. The advertisers cannot mould them. Hollywood cannot hold them. Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries.
They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive
Inside.
On the outside? They hardly care.They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide.
Would they surrender their image or their popularity?
They would lay down their very lives - swap seats with the man on death row - guilty as hell. A throne for an electric chair.
With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days,they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.

Their DNA chooses JESUS. (He breathes out, they breathe in.)
Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus.
Their words make demons scream in shopping centres.
Don’t you hear them coming?
Herald the weirdo’s! Summon the losers and the freaks.
Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes.
They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension.
Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.
And this vision will be.
It will come to pass;
it will come easily;
it will come soon.

How do I know?
Because this is the longing of creation itself
the groaning of the Spirit
the very dream of God.
My tomorrow is his today.
My distant hope is his 3D.
And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great ‘Amen!’ from countless angels, from hero’s of the faith
from Christ himself.

And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.
Guaranteed.