Day after day, as one rock is painstakingly placed upon the next, the
form of an ancient fireplace begins to take shape. The work keeps my mind off the
fact that nobody calls me back from the multitudes of job applications I have submitted
to various agencies. Prayers are lifted unceasingly. While working with mud and
stone, there is time for the mind to wander and reflect; to commune with God. I
am never alone, even when it may seem that I am.
The work is slow and arduous. There are times it seems as if it will
never be completed, so little seems to be accomplished. It was upon these last
few words that the dust of intellect and God’s voice settled.
How compelling to see a structure rise up from the ground, knowing that
the only access to the site where a building now stands was a trail through the
woods. God’s hand was upon me every step. When block and stone began to be set,
what seemed to be an incredulous speed of advancement seemingly came to a halt.
Now, as the daily heat begins to climb as our calendar advances toward July,
the afternoon temperatures began to soar, causing the pace to slow further.
It was on one of these recent sweltering days that the words began to
form.
Standing back and looking upon the work of thy hands, God impressed
upon me how permanent these stones are versus the rest of the building. The
stones are like our faith and the Word of God. We are as dust, here today and
gone tomorrow, but the Word of the Lord endureth forever. Who hasn’t driven
down some lonesome backroad and happened upon an abandoned old farmhouse. The
only evidence being the singular rock chimney built from indigenous stones
found nearby. The remainder of the structure, if still there at all, had long
ago succumbed to the rigors of rot and decay. Sometimes, the entire chimney is
still completely intact; the heart of the old homeplace where often times the
food would be cooked and would also be the only source of warmth in the coldest
of winter days.
Like that old chimney, the Word of God continues long after the fragile
flesh of this world have gone. It should also be the center of our lives. When
we are gone, the remembrance of who we were will vanish. All that will often
remain of our earthly life is sometimes the work of our hands. “For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth
that we are dust. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field,
so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place
thereof shall know it no more.”-Psalm
103:14-16
However, that is not the point, leaving a legacy of ourselves. We might
think that what we leave to this world should be like the chimney, a visual
reminder, but that would be misguided. Don’t get me wrong, it is more than
pleasing for our children, and their children to look upon the work of their
ancestors and marvel at something that their ancient hands had created that
remains until their day. Rather, what we should prefer is that our legacy
points to Jesus and a Christ-centered life.
Those stones of the fireplace, each one carefully placed after being
hand chosen, can be thought of as the individual moments in life where what we
say or did something either in the Word or in a Christ-like manner, made a
lasting impact on someone’s life, in a positive way. No stone is the same;
likewise, no two events are ever exactly alike. It takes a multitude of rocks
to build the entirety of the fireplace; similarly, life is a never-ending stream
of events. In our own minds, they are interrelated, no matter the circumstance.
They become forever who we are. Those who we reach in our life’s journey become
part of who we are as much as the individual stone becomes part of the
fireplace.
The mortar, like God’s word, carefully prepared bonds those moments
together, uniting all into a solid, rock-hard formation. If the mortar is too
wet, it runs and cannot uphold the next stone; its bond is weak. So too is the
Word of God if it is watered down. Too often in today’s world, the church seeks
to make God’s word “fit” the audience; make it relevant. That’s okay if it is
kept in line with scripture, but the problem arises when it is weakened and
altered to “blend” into what is considered acceptable by the world, to the natural
man’s desires. When we hear of churches becoming more of an entertainment venue
than a soul-saving institution, then we know the mortar has started to run.
From the opposite side of the spectrum, if our mortar is too dry, the
stones cannot bond for lack of moisture. When the Word of God is delivered in
such a dry, ritualistic manner, it becomes foreign to the listener. The
concepts and teachings of Christ must be delivered in such a manner that they
may be easily understood but without compromising their meaning. If those receiving
the message are not right with God, then they too will be unable to understand;
simply going to the show does not allow for reception of the word. “For the heart of this people is waxed gross,
and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes have they closed; lest they
should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their
heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.”-Acts 28:27 When the format of the program
seeks to follow outdated legalistic procedures that are not biblical, let alone
have a purpose, they destroy what the house of God seeks to employ; the
presence of the Holy Spirit; the water of life and the moisture in the mortar.
In the end, if the mason has done their job well, the structure they
have created will stand the test of time. If a life has been well lived, there
should be no regrets. As a life well lived, the Apostle Paul said it best when
he said, “I have fought a good
fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown
of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that
day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.”
Each stone, each moment in time will have created a living legacy of a
Christ-centered life to which many will attest for years to come. If they are equally
blessed, there may be a certain fireplace around which they may gather and
think of the one who built it, not alone, but in the presence of God.
“And whether we be afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effectual in the enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation.”-2 Cor. 1:6
The morning brought about overcast skies; something that hadn’t been part of yesterday’s plan. Contemplations of getting up and finding new subjects to capture to use for future inspirational messages were quickly shrouded over by the gray skies above. From my vantage point, sitting on the picnic table at the Collettsville General store, I sat in humble submission to all that God was trying to reveal to my simple mind. Even knowing what I know about my walk in the Lord, it was evident, His plans were not my own, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.”-Isa. 55:8
Blueridge Mountains, Collettsville, NC.
The clouds loomed
so closely that one might have perceived it to be dusk; the birds flitting to
and fro cared little. Cars going by, crossing the bridge, had their headlights
on. For late June, it was a pleasantly cool morning. The John’s River flowing
past echoed a constant gentle whisper. Its voice was the blank canvas for all
other voices, bemoaning a solitude to any that might listen; a respite from the
worldly nature of mankind. If only one could sit each waking hour by such a place,
how much more complete would their earthly life be? If the curse had not been
placed upon the world, how much more awe-inspiring would this appear?
While contemplating all that was before me, the thought of
how much more this might mean to one that had known struggles, darkness, and
sorrow came to mind. Many of my friends, colleagues, and even myself included
are facing all manner of persecution and trials. To this end, my thoughts began
to reflect upon how much I wish each of them were here with me to see what I
can see. But even in our afflictions, we must keep mindful of how our Savior is
using this to mold us, make us stronger in our faith. As the Apostle Paul
wrote, “And whether we be afflicted, it is for your consolation and
salvation, which is effectual in the enduring of the same sufferings which we
also suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation and
salvation.”
Like a soldier having survived the atrocities of war,
perhaps even death by his own hands, to then return into the normal society; he
cannot help but be changed, forever altered in his perception of the fine line
between civility and cruelty. For a moment he can be in the real world, and a
split second later, he’s back in the hell from whence his world was forever
altered; blood, gore, and mayhem the likes many of us may never know, nor shall
we want too. Likewise, a person can return from the depths of struggle and
despair so great, that once they do, they too are forever changed, never to
look again upon a normal life without understanding how many divine
circumstances have attributed to that fragile thread of what is deemed
normalcy. Each one of us is so close to the edge of the abyss of having
nothing; ever so close to losing it all, yet we doubtfully are aware. Those who
comprehend this perilous precipice have the perception of both edges of the
double sword. They are keenly aware and feel the sense of urgency unbeknownst
to those around them. This difference makes them often seem either distant –
when they choose to remain silent for fear of distancing those with whom they
wished to be with – or that they appear overzealous in their beliefs to the
point they unintentionally ostracize those they love. In essence, they push
away those very people who they seek to reach.
When we accept Christ into our lives, when we turn away from
the old ways and take on the new, we are also forever changed. “Therefore if
any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold,
all things are become new.”-2 Cor. 5:17 All of those things in the past are
forgotten; those old ways of sin, those old habits of which kept us in bondage
are gone. We are set free. At that moment, in that embrace of total immersion
into following Christ, we too can become separated from those around us who
either never realized our change, or who have yet to come to know Him as we
have come to know Him. Either way, we become a different person, one in which
we have died to our former selves, and being such, we no longer rely on the old
ways.
In that moment, when we are saved, we become a new being.
When we do, we face the same circumstances as those who have either lived
through traumatic life events or circumstances. We must be mindful of our
presence among those non-believers or even those who think they are Christian
but are not.
It is a precarious path we walk when we are changed.
Not only that, but our perception of this fallen world
changes as well. The world around us takes on a new light. Things once unseen
for the sake of chasing after the natural things of this world are now visible.
Our senses are like that of a babe, freshly receiving inputs from old receptors
but are now seen through new eyes. Gone are those filters of addiction and
worldly influences. We are cleansed by His blood, washed white as snow.
“Wherefore, he saith, Awake thou that sleepest, and arise
from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.”-Eph.5:14 When we awaken
from that death, we open the door as if to a freshly fallen snowscape; pristine
as it had been from the beginning. In our sin, we were too lost to see what was
before us all along.
Lastly, when we become one with our Father, we no longer
have to question our ability to speak with Him. We know that he listens to all
that we lift up in prayer. Even in our
weakness, God will intercede for us in prayer, “Likewise the Spirit also
helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought:
but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be
uttered. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the
Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of
God. And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God,
to them who are the called according to his purpose.”-Rom.8:26-28
We understand that even on the
darkest of days, those in which thunder clouds are looming on the horizon,
there is still even reason to rejoice. Even when those countless prayers we
have lifted up go unanswered, we still know that He is listening. “I had
fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of
the living. Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine
heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.”-Ps. 27:13-14
In the waiting, there is learning…and
always hope.
When we feel downtrodden in that
waiting, take heed and remember, He sends us his helper, the Comforter, “But
when the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you from the Father, even the
Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of me.”-Jn
15:26
Yes, even on those days when you expected
sunshine and God sends showers, rejoice in all that is given. We only have one
earthly life to live. Let us not waste this time in despair, but rather, share
the gift of salvation to all those who will hear. Be mindful of your audience
and be not anxious. Some are meant to plant while others will reap; often will
we see both. The fields are ripe for harvest. Now is the time.
All around are the sounds of the gentle hush of raindrops
falling on the multitude of leaves. Each tiny patter whispers a secret to its
hearer. It is as if God is soothing the recent sharp edges of life that have
cut to my very soul; tween bone and marrow. Only He knows the passionate
struggles with which the past months had presented themselves. It is not
lightly nor without conviction that these memories now torment the heart of one
who gave his all to hold onto the belief that this was his calling.
There were choices; there always are.
Like the tale of two roads diverging in the yellow wood, as
Frost would write, “I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all
the difference.”
There is not one day, no not one – even those that made you
wonder why you ever chose to teach- that I would give back. Their pain made the
creases in our soul; etchings of love emblazoned upon our inner being, never
gone, never forgotten.
Yes, it is only from the heart that I write this story.
Each day that we walk in faith, we know not where the path
will lead. That first day that those keys turned the lock in the door, it felt
as if I had entered the den of a sleeping dragon. There was the overwhelming
feeling of a darkness present. As the door opened, the emptiness of room 3212
would echo silent cries; a foreboding of things to come. Eventually, that room
would become the classroom from which many stories would unfold, both good and
bad. I could never imagine how it would have ended. As we are only human, we can
never fully comprehend what God has in store for us. When we walk in that
journey in which He hath prepared, we are refined by the fires of trials and
tribulations. When the love that we share is genuine, it becomes even more
painful when a door closes.
The sound of the swollen creek reverberates the feeling of
how my cup had runneth over these past few weeks; the culmination of seeds
planted long ago had come to fruition; some still waiting; some may never grow;
yet, in all, the thoughts of the students left behind return. The image of the
expansive whiteboard in room 3212 returns. On it, in its entirety, drawn with
dry-erase markers, from one end to the other, is the picture of a red dragon
breathing fire on a sword inscribed with one word, “Mathematics.”
It will be the last dragon.
Each semester, from the first to this one, God gave me the
message of sharing my gifts through the telling my students of the parallels of
the dragon and their fear of Math, the class that I would be called to teach.
The first few days of each semester would find the dragon begin, always with
the eye. From there, the image would slowly, during the course of the entire
semester, grow into the final piece of artwork. To think of this as simply the
entirety of this story would diminish the truth from all that there is to
convey. It is more than just a picture, but a story of heartache, struggle, and
a multitude of life’s blessings to which one may never fully know.
Behind the scenes, Satan would attack, lying in wait ready
to strike another blow. When it seemed there couldn’t be any more things that
could pummel my life further into the ground, there would be another twist that
would sink my life into deeper darkness. Each time, from my knees, my cries
would resonate to heaven; each time, God would give me renewed strength to
carry on. Each time I drew closer to Him.
Just as I told my students not to fear Math (the dragon), so
must we not fear the devil; for whom shall we fear if we have God? Yet, we
should not be ignorant of his power and deceitful nature. “For we wrestle
not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers,
against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness
in high places.”-Eph. 5:12
Whenever there was doubt about the effectiveness of the
light within, God would send a confirmation. These would be the moments that will
be cherished.
One of the many beautiful memories was when one of my
students finished his end of semester review package we called, Dragon Flippers.
The purpose was to tie in all the units of the semester into a flip-review
package and to also allow students who might not have been as mathematically
inclined to shine through their artwork, which was required on the cover. It
was part of our end of semester review. Before the student handed his in, he
pulled me aside to tell me something that will forever be with me. He told of
how he had struggled with his own demons, and that through the light God had
allowed to shine through me, he found a new purpose, a new reason to live. If
you had known this young man, you would have never guessed that he would have
such inner turmoil. He was the model student; always on time with his work, an “A”
student, and as gracious as they come.
He then handed me his project. As I fought to regain my
composure, I looked upon the picture of a young man facing a mirror. In the
reflection was an angry dragon looking back. Inside the package, he showed a
pictorial description of Ephesians 6:14-17, and how he had used the armor of
God to battle this demon. He then continued. He said that he would not be
returning to High School but would finish his studies at home since his family
felt the public school environment was not healthy for his wellbeing. He went
on to share how he had read many of my devotionals and that because of those
writings, he knew that God wanted him to do in life. “Mr. Tron, I want to thank
you for helping me to see the demon within me and to show me how to defeat him.
You have been the best teacher I have ever known.” The flood gates opened as I
watched him leave room 3212 through tear stained eyes, never to return.
The reason God sent me to Watauga High School would never
leave my thoughts. Each day, after the pledge of allegiance, I would pray to
God for guidance, strength, and wisdom. Behind me, a legion of His angels was
there to protect and comfort me. For if it were not true, I would have never made
it. Today, as the rains fall all around, it is as if those same angels were
crying, knowing that the place to which I had been called has found a way to
push me out. In their mourning, my soul is once again warmed; their compassion,
a representation of God’s unending love, soothes the rough edges of my broken
heart. No longer will I be able to stand before all those troubled teens to
convey to them God’s love, through my own, by trying to help them in their
life’s journey.
Early before school began during the last week of school
when the morning sky had yet to awaken, another touching moment occurred. One
of our EC teachers pulled me aside and shared what one of my students had said
to her when he had heard the news of my leaving Watauga. In his words, she
said, he couldn’t understand why they would be getting rid of Mr. Tron, when I
was the only reason, he (the student) made it through Math 2. She continued to
tell me that the young man was considering dropping out of school. But once he
began to do well in Math, he realized that if he could do that, then he could
handle anything else that was required to graduate. She then said what touched
her the most, when he said, “We need more teachers like Mr. Tron,” he told her
in a very solemn tone. Once more, the tears began to flow as my heart knew the
struggles the young man had faced, both in the classroom and at home.
Stories like this one and the countless others made the door
closing all the more painful. We are but of the flesh, and with that, we are
weak. To know that our Savior has prepared for us a new path is comforting, but
it doesn’t make it hurt any less. When a door slams on your finger, the
momentary pain is almost blinding; when a door slams on your heart, it bemoans
your spirit to the core, driving you to your knees. It is from there, kneeling
on the floor that we must seek Him most.
Like those dry-erase markers with which the dragon had been
drawn, the image could have easily been erased. So too are we here for a short
time, as a mere wisp of smoke, here for a moment in time and then gone. “Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what
is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then
vanisheth away.”-James 4:14. To
those we encounter we have but one chance to share with them the purpose for
which we are called. Many times, we are unaware of the role or the effect we’ve
had, as God is working through us, such that on the rare occasion we are told
of these influences, then we too know of how much we are needed in this dark
world.
Another heart-wrenching moment was when the students were
saying goodbye after I had shared with them the rest of the story behind the
dragon; how that I was sent there by God and that God was now leading me on.
The young man told of how he had been in a deep dark pit, and because of what I
had said to him, beyond the limitations of the state’s standards for Math, he
had been saved. Quickly I reminded him that it wasn’t me, but rather, God
speaking through me.
I remember the day of which he spoke vividly.
He was one of those students who had extreme anxiety for
courses in which he struggled; Math was the worst. On one of the days in which
not only was Math causing him to question himself, he had also been going
through a spiritual battle. When my co-teacher came to the room and beckoned me
to the hallway, I was more than a little concerned. She then shared with me how
he had called for me and how he had told her he was lost without hope. As my
footsteps carried me to the room where he lay, I prayed to God to give me the
words to speak; there was no manual, there was no guidance for this sort of
thing; yet, all I could think was simply to rely on God, His Holy Word, and that
He would speak through me. As those prayers were lifted, a surge of what felt
like electrical energy pulsated from my head to my toes.
Looking back, I know in my heart that the Holy Spirit was
with us that day.
When I opened the door, the young man was lying in the fetal
position. His cheeks were stained from tears. As I walked in, he slowly sat up
and thanked me for coming. I don’t remember the words that were said, I don’t
know all that God had worked through me, all I know is that from that day
forward, there was an obvious change in the young man’s demeanor in my
classroom. From that day forward, it was as if he had been born again.
It was just one of many stories that transpired over the
past three years.
One cannot look back and move forward.
In the end, the dragon stood for more than a parallel to
Math. As we learn in Revelations 12, the red dragon represents Satan, who
chases the woman (the church), who has a child (Jesus). The dragon tried to
kill the woman and her child, but the earth protected her. God becomes our
protector in all things should we choose to believe. “And when the dragon
saw that he was cast unto the earth, he persecuted the woman which brought
forth the man child. And to the woman were given two wings of a great eagle,
that she might fly into the wilderness, into her place, where she is nourished
for a time, and times, and half a time, from the face of the serpent. And the
serpent cast out of his mouth water as a flood after the woman, that he might cause
her to be carried away of the flood.And the earth
helped the woman, and the earth opened her mouth, and swallowed up the flood
which the dragon cast out of his mouth. And the dragon was wroth with the
woman, and went to make war with the remnant of her seed, which keep the
commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus Christ.”-Rev. 12:13-17
For many of my students, they realized that the dragon also
stood for their ability to conquer any fear, including that of Satan. Their
belief or unbelief was never questioned, rather, the light was present for all
to see. In our walk, we can either to simply follow the law, or we can provide
more than being the shell of a being living in a world of flesh; we can choose
to be the light.
So it is, with this journey upon which I trod, answering His
call to march onward, seeking that new shore. Yes, this may be the last dragon,
but the story doesn’t end. When this path began nearly five years ago, those
fateful words continue to ring in my ears today, “Wherever you say to go, Lord,
I will follow.”
When it is your time to answer the call, choose your words
carefully, for God will surely lead you to places you never dreamed and because
of Him working through you, you will achieve things you never imagine. It will
not be easy. There will be moments of incomprehensible pain, just as there will
be times of unspeakable joy.
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for, evidence of
things unseen,” and in that, we will always find comfort.
Let us not dwell on things of the past any more than with
which to inspire us toward a better path in the future.
Keep all those in prayer who have had their journey’s door
close and now are awaiting the next one to open; for in the waiting, there will
be learning and hope.
His hands were calloused from
years of labor; working on the farm, and now this, building the Retreat. Scars
covered is arms like roadmaps of a tumultuous life. One stone after another he
carefully picked from the pile of rocks, rotating it in his hands before
finding the match for which it had been chosen. Around him, the forest sang
along to the music to which he worked. The man had a special affinity to
listening to music while he toiled; it made him slip away from the pain of the
job at hand and allowed his mind to float from one life’s precious memory after
another.
Music had always held a special place in his heart.
There were times when he was at work, thinking to himself
that after the next song, he would stop for a much-needed break. Inadvertently,
the next song would speak to him, keeping him enraptured. Unable to break the
bond, he pushed his body onward; sometimes to the point of near exhaustion.
Today it was like that once more, as one rock after another
was placed onto the chimney. The strains of gospel songs were compelling him to
recall scriptures that matched the lyrics of what was being sung. The hum of
the cement mixer blended into the background while his mind continued to buoy
from the Word of God and back again. It wasn’t until the song, “You Raise Me
Up,” came on that he had to pause.
“You raise me up, so I
can stand on mountains,
You
raise me up to walk on stormy seas,
I am strong when I am on your shoulders,
You
raise me up to more than I can be.”
As the captivating voices of the Celtic Woman drifted into
his consciousness, he suddenly realized he was being transported to one of the
most special places in his heart; those distant Alpine Peaks of the Waldensian
Valleys. He paused, looking up through the canopy of the forest to the azure blue
sky. In his mind, he was back on that day, when he and a young pastor he still
only knew as Stanley, had stood on that peak facing the valley below. The view
was of a breathtaking vista in which God’s craftsmanship was on full display. The
clear blue sky hung like a shroud above the temple of those fateful valleys
below. There, where so many had lost their lives because of their faith, the
depth of time and wails of mournful cries combined into a bittersweet scene
that stretched as far as the eye could see.
They, both he and Stanley, had felt the hand of God upon them
that day; so much so, each took measure to make mention to the other of how
this day may never come again in their lives; at least not in this one; not in
this manner. Each man knew in his heart that this possibly might be the only
time on this side of Heaven in which they would feel the presence of God so
strongly.
The feeling that remained in the man’s heart from that day
had not abated; but rather, had only caused his faith to grow stronger. The lyrics
in the song made perfect sense as the ladies continued to repeat the chorus, “You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas.”
Knowing that this time in his life was as if he was in a boat being tossed upon
a stormy sea. Yet, in his faith, he knew that God was in control. The door to
the future would open when God had finished the preparations. The man’s faith
in Jesus Christ allowed him to walk upon that stormy sea, fearing not that he
may sink. Unlike the Apostle Peter, he was sustained by all that he had learned
of his walk in faith from that epic mountaintop experience.
It was then he realized, the work that he did was just as
his forefathers had done back in those valleys so many centuries before; laying
stone. At one point, they were known around the world for their skill in stone
masonry, among many of the other spiritual gifts they possessed. The song
interrupted his momentary epiphany with the words, “I am strong when I am on your shoulders.”
It was all becoming clearer. Like the low hanging clouds
that had obscured the nearby peak on that fateful day, when they parted, it was
as if a new revelation began to take hold. Like their ancient faith, like one
carved out of stone, they never gave in to the demands that they relinquish their
belief in God. In their hearts, they knew that God had given them a special
gift when the disciples made their way to these valleys and spoke the words
that gave them hope, the words that gave them salvation. From that day on, they
vowed to never let those precious scriptures leave their hearts. Memorizing
them so that they could never lose them, they would pass them down from
generation to the next until they had become an oddity in the annals of
mankind. Fro this they would be sought for persecution and atrocities few have
known since. When they had been persecuted, it only made them grow closer in
their walk. When their feet were literally held to the flames, they worshipped
and sang songs in their dying breaths.
The gravity of the moment made him find a seat and pause
even more.
Martin Luther spoke of the power of music in our faith when
he wrote, ““We can mention only one point
(which experience confirms), namely, that next to the Word of God, music
deserves the highest praise. No greater commendation than this can be found —
at least not by us. After all, the gift of language combined with the gift of
song was only given to man to let him know that he should praise God with both
word and music, namely, by proclaiming [the Word of God] through music.”
When I find myself seeking answers, listening for God to
speak, many times it comes in the form of music; either a song or an instrumental
piece. Many has been the time when there seemed to be no direction to my
journey, or there was no clear sign from which to act, and without intentionally
thinking about the impasse, a song would play through the speakers; there would
come an answer.
A chill passed over the man’s body- the feeling of the Holy
Spirit passing through him- as the next verse nearly took his breath, “You raise me up to more than I can be.”
That morning, the scripture from Hebrews 6:9 stood out, like
a beacon. “But, beloved, we are persuaded
better things of you, and things that accompany salvation, though we thus speak.”
Even though the future was uncertain, he knew that with
faith, better things awaited. He again thought of that journey to the distant
mountain, one in which he could not afford, yet God provided. A journey in
which he never dreamed of making, but there he was. Again, and again, there was
the miraculous being played out before him in such dramatic, demanding fashion
that there would not be enough time to write them all down.
As he sat thinking of all that had gone on since that day with
Stanley, he realized the future was just as unknown today as it was then. But
as the Word of God had told us, with the faith of your salvation, we can trust
that in the end, God’s will shall be done.
Through all of his life’s trials, God had been continually
molding him, shaping him into the faithful believer he was today. There were
scars, both inside and out, that were reminders of that journey. Through Jesus
Christ, he had been made more than he could ever thought possible. Once he left
behind the chains of sin, his world changed. It was as if he had been reborn.
All things became new, and with new eyes, he could see like never before.
The man stood as the song ended, and before the next one could
begin, picked up the next stone and walked toward the growing wall before him.
Where it was to go, the Master’s hand would tell.
With time, we shall know the answers to the journey; with
faith, we will persevere to the end.
