Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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I have, to the best of my knowledge, added all extant and complete sermon outlines by my great-grandfather, George Washington Barrett (1873-1956), to this weblog.  Many others did exist; this I know beyond a shadow of a doubt.  The ravages of time and human carelessness have denied many of these documents to me, one interested in family history.

Barrett, an active Minister of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, then the reunited Methodist Church from 1899 to 1945, was a man of his time, as I am a man of my time.  A century separated my birth from his.  One hundred years made a great deal of difference.  He was well-acclimated to old-style Southern Methodism with a Pietistic streak.  I, in contrast, seemed born to become an Episcopalian, given my penchant for ritual formality and my spiritual need for frequent Holy Eucharist.  These differences have led me to occasional fits of frustration with my great-grandfather Barrett, especially when I have typed one of his denunciations of “externals” (a frequent topic of consternation among Pietists) or playing cards, and I have not been shy about expressing myself in writing regarding such issues.

I make no excuses for such criticism.  If the fact that I have expressed an opinion different from his offends someone, so be it.  Such a person, offended by the reality of subjective differences, will experience life as a series of tizzies, I suppose.  That is not my responsibility.

I do thank my great-grandfather Barrett for doing his part in maintaining the Christian faith in my family.  This faith became part of my inheritance.  It nurtured me until I claimed it for myself.  The rituals marking that faith journey include baptism (by the hand of my father, John D. Taylor, III, at North Newington Baptist Church, Newington, Georgia, in 1979), confirmation into The Episcopal Church (at St. Anne’s, Tifton, Georgia) by Bishop Harry Shipps in 1991, reaffirmation of faith (at Trinity, Statesboro) in the presence of Bishop Henry Louttit, Jr., in 2003, and reaffirmation again (at the Cathedral of St. Philip, Atlanta, Georgia) in the presence of Bishop J. Neil Alexander in 2008.  Although my spiritual path differs from that of my great-grandfather Barrett, it exists in large part due to him.  So he, warts and all, was a positive (even if indirect) influence on me.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

APRIL 27, 2014 COMMON ERA

THE SECOND SUNDAY OF EASTER, YEAR A

THE FEAST OF GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE, EPISCOPAL BISHOP OF NEW JERSEY

THE FEAST OF SAINTS ANTONY AND THEODOSIUS OF KIEV, FOUNDERS OF RUSSIAN ORTHODOX MONASTICISM; SAINT BARLAAM OF KIEV, RUSSIAN ORTHODOX ABBOT; AND SAINT STEPHEN OF KIEV, RUSSIAN ORTHODOX ABBOT AND BISHOP

THE FEAST OF THE EARLY ABBOTS OF CLUNY

THE FEAST OF JOSEPH WARRILOW, ROMAN CATHOLIC PRIEST

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Above:  A Clip from The Atlanta Constitution, September 29, 1915, Page 3

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

Clip Obtained Via newspapers.com

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I live in a world quite different from that of my great-grandfather, John Dodson Taylor, Sr. (1860-1936).  If one seeks evidence of that fact germane to the news report above, I offer the following image, scanned from Ralph S. Tarr and Frank M. McMurry, World Geographies–Second Book (New York, New York:  The Macmillan Company, 1920), Georgia Supplement page 19:

I imagine that the “good roads” in Chattooga County were similar to those in Tift County.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

Dusk at Porto Covo, Portugal

Image Source = Alvesgaspar

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:PortoCovo_February_2008-4.jpg)

As the pall of night casts its

Gradually encroaching shadows

Upon the day,

A peace descends upon the observer.

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As I am surrounded by darkness,

I find myself clothed with quiet and welcome inactivity.

Legions of crickets hum in the distance,

And my ear listens attentively.

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One score minus five years ago,

When my sister, her friends and I

Would sit upon a north Georgia hill,

I imagined fireflies to be passenger airplanes.

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Evenings are magical times of day,

Opportunities to relax, fantasize and do nothing.

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As the pall of night casts its

Gradually encroaching shadows

Upon the day,

A peace descends upon the observer.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

May 15, 1993

Full Moon

Image Source = Arun.blue

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Full_moon_night.JPG)

Diana the Moon

Shines down

Upon the Earth,

Enlightening it and us

With her gentle, silver light.

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Diana the Moon

Shines upon us,

Filling the sky sumptously

As if only she matters.

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Diana the Moon

Shines upon the Earth,

Cascading subtle light

Upon terrestrial objects.

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Diana the Moon

Shines upon us,

Gently breaking through

The Darkness.

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Diana the Moon

Shines down

Upon the Earth,

Enlightening it and us

With her gentle, silver light.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

February 3, 1992

September 13, 1992

February 22, 1994

Dusk

Evenings

Are

That twilight time of day–

After and before mornings and afternoons.

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Evenings

Are

That dark time of day–

Splendidly devoid of sunlight.

===

Evenings

Are

That relaxed time of day–

Free and open for me.

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Evenings

Are

That relaxing time of day–

At the end of various tasks.

===

Evenings

Are

That divine time of day–

A quiet period for reflection.

===

Evenings

Are

That creative time of day–

After the day’s tasks are no more.

===

Evenings

Are.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

February 3, 1992

Dusk at Porto Covo, Portugal

Image Source = Alvesgaspar

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:PortoCovo_February_2008-4.jpg()

Evenings

Are

Quiet conclusions

To splendid new beginnings.

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Evenings

Are

Relaxed twilights

Of sometimes harried days.

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Evenings

Are

Wonderfully beautiful

Times of Day

Which uplift the soul.

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Evenings

Are

Splendidly lovely

Continuations of promise,

Of hope and blessing.

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Evenings

Are.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

October 30, 1991

November 1, 1991

Yosemite Valley in the Morning

Mornings

Are

Splendid new beginnings,

Indications that life goes on,

That hope is not dead.

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Mornings

Are

Continuations of life,

Renewed promises of favor

Of God in people.

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Mornings

Are

Wonderfully beautiful

Times of Day

Which uplift the soul.

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Mornings

Are

Splendidly lovely

Daybreaks of promise,

Daily rebirths of hope and promise.

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Mornings

Are.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

October 30, 1991

November 1, 1991