Monthly Archives: November 2015

by | November 30, 2015 · 9:41 pm

He Who Endures…Shall Be Saved…

“Then they will deliver you up to tribulation and kill you, and you will be hated by all nations for My name’s sake.  10 And then many will be offended, will betray one another, and will hate one another.  11 Then many false prophets will rise up and deceive many.  12 And because lawlessness will abound, the love of many will grow cold.  13 But he who endures to the end shall be saved.  14 And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in all the world as a witness to all the nations, and then the end will come.” – Matthew 24:11-14

I step out, no longer hiding behind the façade of a life that kept me in the shadows. Now, all will know what and who I serve. There is no shame in who I serve, nor why I do this, but there are many that will seek to destroy all we do. Today I took another step closer to the mission for which I was called. One more step toward the evangelistic journey that God continues to lead me toward. From here, I cannot see the future. From here, I cannot tell whether I will walk or crawl to the finish if I’m to ever make it. The only comfort I can find, in this walk toward a darkness that seems to grow deeper with each passing day is that I am not alone. Those of us who seek the truth do so with united purpose. If we hold on until the end, salvation awaits. What we do, we do for Him, so that all the world will know the truth; the whole truth.

This was my first night off in almost a week. The rest was welcome.

In this time repose, I was able to watch a possible distant relative, Valeria Tron, perform on videos recorded in her home country of Italy. A missionary friend had introduced us on FB knowing that we were likely related since she was from the same valley as my ancestors. She had recently awarded a very prestigious honor, none of which I could understand. So, tonight I took some much needed time to watch her perform. There is such a passion and intensity to her singing, although I cannot understand the words, her music is beautiful. I noticed she had like our Tron Family Band page, and then I wondered how he and my own family might sound someday if we were ever able to make music together. From what little I watched, it appears she sings the mournful, soulful traditional folk ballads like I would prefer, even though their rhythm is something new to me; another distant delight to find someday.

I was about to quit out of FB when I noticed our dear friend Jessica Lang had posted a new video of her picking out Salt Creek with some beta strings from D’Addairio. As I watched the talented young lady pick out the melody perfectly, adding her own breaks within the song, I couldn’t be prouder of how much she has grown musically and blossomed into a beautiful young woman.

Yes, time marches on.

Outside a cold rain falls.

It’s that time of year for the Trail where we are open until 9 pm each night thru 12241337_999839180055337_6872093815838088611_nChristmas. We are manning the Christmas Lights at the Trail with help from volunteers, some of which are there now allowing me the time to regroup and fulfill some of my own wishes; to write. There are times I wonder if I will ever pick up a paint brush again. Musically, I’ve been able to add a moment here and there to the schedule. In all, there is little time for the creative juices to flow. Times like these I have to hope there is a reservoir filling, saving up for when there is time to flow.

And time marches on.

The darkness envelopes the world around us as the drops of water fall from the sky, the abyss from above.

As the evening draws to a close, we prepare for tomorrow. Another day, we know not what awaits but we can prepare as we read the Word. For in this book, we can find truth when the world around us seeks to sway us away from the goal, the finish line.

We seek the finish, for, in the end, we know our salvation awaits.

For now, we must take one cherished moment whenever we find them.

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by | November 5, 2015 · 9:05 pm

Prayer, A Powerful Thing…

Screenshot_2015-11-05-21-52-53“The preparations of the heart belong to man, But the answer of the tongue is from the Lord.” –Proverbs 16:1

There were once days in my life that would pass so quickly, so barely noticeable that I was welcome to wake up and find the next calendar date, not knowing at all what had transpired in my life other than a moment of sleep and long hours of work. These two bookends were separated by life-threatening drives home and reflective rides to work. I often prayed that God would deliver from this living hell, dead or alive.

 

That was then, this is now.! My days are much different now.

When we give everything over to the Lord, it’s amazing how fast and quickly the world around us can change.

There’s not a day now that doesn’t pass without another miraculous, amazing, God-like event or moment occurring in my life. This past week was like so many others, one story after another unfolding before us shaping us into who we are and what we will become.

Like this day I’m about to share.

The young woman pulled up hurriedly in a little red pickup as if she might be in a rush to deliver something. I walked toward the door of the Trail to see who it was or what it might be getting delivered. It was then that I recognized the young lady. A couple months ago, she and her boyfriend had dropped by to talk about helping us out at the Trail by donating some lumber to help us repair the bleachers at the Bocce courts. During their visit, I had shared with them my testimony about coming to the Trail. I had not heard from them since and as it often goes, I had wondered if my words had found a place in their hearts or if I had said something to keep them away. In a small way, I had prayed for God to help them if they needed it and if it was His will, to send them back; and here she stood.

She began to share with me that she had returned and that she wanted to help, that she was being led to do something at the Trail. It was almost as if God was pressing on her in order to demand her to do His will, yet she didn’t know how or why. We sat and talked for quite a while and discussed opportunities we had available at the Trail.

Yet, there seemed to be something else, something more that she couldn’t express.

As we continued our conversation, as we walked back to the parking lot, she asked me what it was that she could do to find peace. For some reason, my mind was blocking out what I really wanted to say. For some reason, God knew that there was another purpose for her being here. All I could recall to offer her for support was to pray, read her Bible and to put away all the distractions in her life. The sincerity with which she evoked her emotions made me feel more than inadequate. She had shared with me how my testimony had awakened in her a burning desire to serve the Lord, but she didn’t know how. I shared with her that she might want to visit the prayer service that was being held that night over at the River of Life Church. Pastor King had began a prayer service after he was feeling led to do so. I had yet to go to the service, but knew when it started, which I shared with her. As she drove off, I wondered to myself what purpose I was serving in my life now. What beacon of light was the Trail really becoming? As I walked back into the building, it hit me like a ton of bricks, the fact that I had failed to witness to her, something I had more than wanted to do. Here I had blown the perfect opportunity, yes, the perfect opportunity. How else could she receive peace but to find Christ into her life!

I drove home that evening, thinking how God had sent someone to me to witness too and I had been unable to speak. As I drove around the corner and past the church, I prayed that God might find a way to send her to the there tonight, and if possible, I would go. It had been a long day, and when I got home, the bed was already calling. The 4:30 am start that previous morning was wearing on me. As I lay down in bed after eating supper, I felt as if I could easily drift off to sleep, but something wouldn’t allow me to do so. Something, or someone, said, “Get up and go pray.” So I did.

I arrived early at the prayer service. There was nobody else in the parking lot except me. I walked in and sat on the front row with my Pocket Testament League book of John and my Bible in hand. I began reading passages as my mind would drift from one scripture to the next, praying in between readings as I went, each time praying about things, people and needs in my life and then praying that God might send the young woman here tonight so that we might have another chance to help her in her search for God.

I prayed like I have never done before; intense life changing prayer.

Time passed, my recollection of it was incomprehensible. After what seemed like an eternity I paused and tried to clear my head.

Then I looked up toward the alter …and there she was.

God had answered prayer once more.

She had brought a friend, and together, they were filling out prayer slips to place on the prayer wall. I silently thanked God for his answer and waited for them to come back from the wall. It was then that I welcomed them and the young lady introduced her friend. We briefly talked about their finding the church and it was then that I offered to pray over them, which they accepted. We went to the alter and I shared with them the witnessing I had failed to do earlier that day. As we finished praying, I realized that the young woman who had been at the Trail had known the word I spoke, for she had once accepted Christ into her life. God had purposely held my tongue knowing that I alone was not going to be able to break through. It was then I realized my need for assistance. Thankfully, the pastor’s wife was standing ready to move in and it was then I saw and felt the Holy Spirit move through us all, all four of us as we brought two people to Christ that night. There was a trembling of the earth as sins were washed away. Yes, God was moving in our lives and it was like riding a runaway chariot down the side of a mountain, with God at the reigns!

Before leaving, I handed the young lady the gospel of John I had used to pray with that night, offering it to her to use from this point forward. At least now, it felt right.

Yes, it was just another day at the Trail, one more to carry in my heart forever more.

Yes, just another day.

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by | November 2, 2015 · 9:32 pm

Just A Trim Please…

“But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light” – 1 Peter 2:9

Many days I walk onward not knowing the absolution of what is to come any more than where the next raindrop will fall. Many seek answers to questions they cannot. Yet, as we may, we must remain steadfast and true, forsaking all the distractions that pull us away from our course.

Today, as I sat in Sain’s barber shop watching as my son received a much-needed hair cut, I gently picked out a song on the mandolin theysains keep hanging on the wall for just such an occasion. “Leaning On the Everlasting Arms” was somehow fitting for the day. Outside, men shuffled in and out of the shop from the chilly rain, each shaking off the weather as they entered. Across from me four barbers were busy working, a sight not often seen in many places I’ve been. Many barbershops barely have one active chair, let alone two, so the feeling of being alive was a welcomed sight. Not long after the first few stanzas of “Leaning”, another good old standby began to work its way from within, “I”’ll Fly Away” came drifting softly from within. From the distant corner, some talk show was in progress on the large screen TV that occupied the space. Most gave it no attention as voices from the chairs both those waiting and those in the progress of getting their trims conversed.

imagesF86VDAT8The memories of Max’s barber shop came back. The little building out behind his house where he cut hair on Thursday nights. Many from the area of Bear Creek would stop by for their $5 haircuts. There were many stories shared and news passed on in that little place. Seldom would you enter without learning something of either the neighborhood or the history of that neck of the woods. Max eventually got a TV with satellite hooked up which most of the time was on but without the sound turned up; talk was much more important. Then there was Reid’s shop, down in Siler City, where Dennis and Ried cut hair, another duo, where most of the time it was just Dennis. It was a step up from Max’s place, but not by far. There were no fancy TVs hanging on the wall, no mandolin’s to pick, but again, there was often intense conversations that would both enlighten and inspire. In all of these places, there were the same familiar smells of the old-timey barber shop. In each of these, the hot lather would follow the cut, the welcome end to the buzzing and clipping all so close to the ears. Hot, warm lather soothing the skin, to be scraped away with the fine edge of the straight razor. The cleanliness that followed was like a breath of fresh air; akin to new ground being planted, waiting for the seed.

As the sounds and smells around me blended together, I momentarily closed my eyes and watched the notes drift across the span of time, barberthinking of all the places a mandolin and I have met. This was another first, but for my time, it was nothing more than something to keep me occupied while I waited. I opened my eyes in time to see one barber motioning for me to take my turn in the chair, but I shook my head “no” since I had just been there the week before. The next customer looked to me for approval as I nodded, keeping time to the strings that continued to move beneath the pick, the one the lead barber had offered me to borrow. It was comforting to see the honor system was alive and well here too, another confirmation.

Before I knew it, my son was up, shaking off the loose hairs, looking much better than before. Somehow he had aged before my eyes. That shaggy scruff was gone and a sharp looking young man stood before me. Another song moved into my head, but there was no time now. I stood to pay and thanked the barber for the use of his pick. He, in turn, thanked me for the music and asked for us to return again.

As we walked from the barber shop back out into the drizzle the strains of “Blessed Assurance”, returned and I couldn’t help think how blessed I truly was.

There are days where we cannot help ourselves to wonder if all that we do is enough. Have we offered hope to those who seek affirmation from beyond their own front doors? Have we provided the path to salvation that many need, yet we wander in our own shadows, following the winds of change as they blow us from our destination, our goals, our calling.

Today, so many places that were in the past came calling again and we met, together in one place and walked out welcome to be one with Him. Once again called out of the dark into the light, I was once more reassured of that path, yes, the one less traveled.

It was a good day.

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