David Epps's blog

Protected rights

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It is the July 4th weekend and, all across America, people are celebrating the nation’s birthday.

They do so at a time when many are deeply concerned that a number of the freedoms guaranteed in the Bill of Rights (which admittedly has nothing to do with the Declaration of Independence but everything to do with the freedoms we enjoy) are under attack. Read More»

A die-in and obscene gestures

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My denomination, the Charismatic Episcopal Church, is pro-life. We are unashamedly and unapologetically a denomination that believes in the sacredness of life. To us, the pro-life issue is not a political issue but a biblical and moral issue. That strongly held belief permeates all of our churches throughout the world. If that position is unpopular and counter-cultural, then so be it. With over 60,000,000 abortions worldwide each and every year, we believe we cannot stand idly by and keep silent. Read More»

30 years a Georgian

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During June 1983, my family moved to Georgia. We came here from Grand Junction, Colo., where we spent two and a half years while I served as an assistant minister at a large church.

Prior to that, with the exception of service in the Marine Corps, we were in Tennessee. I was born a Tennessean. My wife was born in Cheyenne, Wyo., but only spent nine days there before her family moved to Tennessee. My two older sons were born in Tennessee while the youngest was born in Colorado. Read More»

Two flags

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I visited my parents’ graves a few months back. Dad, William E. Epps, Jr. (“Bill” to his friends and “Junior” to his siblings), died in 1996, and Mom (Thelma Kathleen Luster Epps) followed him about six years later. Dad served in the United States Navy during the waning days of World War II and his service is indicated on his marker at Oak Hill Memorial Park.

A few years ago, I started taking an American flag with me when I visited the graves and placing it on Dad’s grave. It was my way of continuing to demonstrate honor to my father. Read More»

Why I didn’t study

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This is a confession, of sorts, one of which I am not proud.

All through elementary school and through most of junior high, I was an A and B (mostly A) student. Beginning in the 9th grade, the grades began to slip — well, “plummet” would be a better word.

My coaches, teachers, and, especially, my parents converged on me from all sides demanding to know what was wrong with me. If drugs had been around at the time, I’m sure they would have suspected that I was doing drugs. They would have been wrong. Read More»

Reflecting upon high school

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Across the country, thousands of schools have experienced the graduation of millions of high school seniors. As I attended a graduation this spring, I thought back to my alma mater, Dobyns-Bennett High School in Kingsport, Tenn. Sometimes, people will ask, “If you could go back to high school, would you do anything differently?” My answer is, “You betcha!”

So, for the benefit and amusement of those who will be entering or returning to high school this fall, I offer the following musings about what I would do differently: Read More»


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I come from a long line of males. If my memory serves me correctly, my dad was the eldest of six brothers complemented by two sisters. My father and mother had two sons. My wife and I brought three sons into the world. It was, with great anticipation, that my wife and I were awaiting the arrival of our first grandchild — a girl! Finally!

On a cold January day, Victoria Sabrina Epps was born and, shortly after her birth, my son brought her to me and placed her in my arms. As I looked at her, smiling and drooling (her, not me), two thoughts came to mind. Read More»

A long delayed letter

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A few weeks ago, I was going through my desk and found a church directory from Mountain View United Methodist Church. The directory was from 2007 and I was going to toss it but, before I did, I thumbed through it and noticed a name. Read More»

The man of Steele

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I had been on my first summer job after high school graduation for about seven weeks when my dad announced a change. He had arranged, against my will and without my permission, for me to work at a general construction company inside the giant Tennessee Eastman Chemical Products Corporation. I was paid $1.65 an hour to work myself to the point of exhaustion each day.

“Next week,” he said, “you will start as an electrician’s helper for King Electric Company.” I would still be working inside the Eastman plant and I would make $1.85 an hour. A small improvement, I reasoned. Read More»

The smell of concrete

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As I made a visit to a local hospital early the other morning, a vaguely familiar scent filled my nostrils. It was the smell of concrete — fresh concrete, as in “new construction.”

Sure enough, the hospital was constructing an addition which requires lots of concrete. Sniffing the aroma, I was transported back in time. Read More»

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