Author Archives: Timothy

About Timothy

Timothy W. Tron currently lives near Collettsville, North Carolina, with his wife, Sheryl, and son, Jonathan. He was born in Evansville, Indiana, and spent the next sixteen years in southern Indiana, living in mostly rural areas around the historic small towns of New Harmony and Newburgh. There he established his love for the country, which would eventually lead him back to his roots after graduating college. Along the way, he rediscovered his long-lost joy for writing and soon found God leading him to begin authoring a book, based loosely on the history of his ancestors.
by | December 16, 2025 · 11:43 am

Ignoble Contentment

Ignoble Contentment

By Timothy W. Tron, May 2025

Granger Orien Darby was a man’s man. Some might say he had a god complex. Of course, it didn’t help that his parents, humorously or not, named him such that his initials leaned in that direction. Successful in the corporate sales world, he had amassed an extensive portfolio comparable to that of any director-level executive in the oil industry in just twenty years. Along with his prosperous climb up the corporate ladder, he was an avid outdoorsman, often finding time for hunting and hiking whenever his travels allowed. Sturdy, muscular, with a head full of hair, he belied his late fifties for someone easily in their late thirties.

He had recently purchased a summer home in Blowing Rock, North Carolina. The affluent small town was perfect for him and his second wife’s social life as well as for his passion for the outdoors. There, they quickly blended into the country club cliques and became happily acclimated to mountain life, or at least for the few months they called it home, jettisoning off to Florida when the first few snowflakes began to fall.

One day, while on the nearby golf course, a group of men approached him and his wife and invited him to attend a Christian gathering on Tuesday mornings known as the Men’s Connection. Figuring it couldn’t hurt, and besides, he hadn’t looked into going to church while lounging around during the summer months, Granger said, “Sure, why not?” After all, he and his wife were faithful members of First United Methodist Church in their winter home in Florida. If nothing else, he could at least make more connections, which might prove helpful for his sales team later on.

So, when he showed up that early Tuesday morning at the charming Chetola Resort, he immediately felt at home when the golf shirt-attired, elderly gentleman working the door welcomed him in. “Frank’s the name, and you are?”

“Granger O. Darby,” he replied with a firm handshake. Frank, likewise spending a life in sales, was quick-witted and caught the potential for an acronym. “G.O.D., huh?” smiling suspiciously while maintaining a tight grip on Granger’s hand. “Have you come to part the sea for us, or are you just someone who has fallen to the capricious nature of garrulous parents?” Granger was slightly off guard, even though he thought he had heard all the nuances of people’s perceptions of his initials. The quick quip from Frank made him pause and caused him to reconsider why he had come. The guy before him dressed in the part of the country club set, yet he spoke to a truth that went beyond the genial greeting. Maybe it was just that he hadn’t had his coffee yet. Perhaps he was just overreacting. “Relax, be cool,” he thought inwardly before he finally responded.

“Since I didn’t bring Moses with me, I guess the latter,” he joked as both men laughed.

Frank showed Granger to the free coffee, where he gladly accepted the offer. The room began to fill slowly as mostly elderly gentlemen came ambling in, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs. Before he knew it, they were seated, and someone asked if anyone needed prayers, either for themselves or for someone they knew. From there, they transitioned to praise, and soon enough, someone stood up to share a message from scripture, interlaced with experiential anecdotes along the way.

“So far, so good,” Granger thought, “Nothing spiritually crazy, no Pentecostal snake worshipping, no speaking in tongues. They all seemed like a bunch of thoughtful, concerned, respectable men.”

Thinking he would escape without having to make any commitment of faith, he merely hoped to be there to make connections. Toward the end of the meeting, they began to talk about their commitment to serving the community. The idea was that they hoped to have a plan for working with or witnessing to students on the nearby App State campus by the fall semester. It was then that one of their younger members, probably in his early sixties, stood up and spoke about the apologetics club on campus, Ratio Christi, and how they could definitely become an integral part of that organization if they felt led. Something inside Granger seemed drawn to the slim, thinning gray-headed man with a trimly kept beard named Tim Tron. There was enthusiasm, a passion he hadn’t seen in a long time that mirrored his own attitude toward life. Something inside said he should speak with him and try to learn more about his character before he left. He was always looking for someone to give him another inspirational tool for his sales team.

When the teaching ended, before he could reach Tim, he dashed out the door. Someone told him that Tim had to get to work on campus and could seldom stay after. Wondering how he might catch up with him, another member suggested meeting the next morning at his favorite coffee shop near the campus. Intrigued, Granger made up his mind to do just that. He wasn’t going to let something that intrigued him escape that easily.

It was a clear, crisp morning the next day when Granger pulled into the Local Lion at 7 AM. The “Open” sign flickered on as he shut his car door. If he didn’t find Tim, at least he’d have a head start on the day. A mid-size SUV was already parked in the front spot for customers. Walking in, sure enough, just as the elderly gentleman had said, Tim was seated in the back, laptop open, the light from its screen illuminating his face in a ghostly fashion. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that the dude had spent the night. Tron looked up as Granger walked in, smiling, recognizing him from the day before, and waved him over to join him. Tim didn’t waste any time, immediately asking Granger to share more about himself, which he was happy to do. The peculiar man patiently listened, asking questions for clarification as Darby spoke, not interrupting, but somehow, it seemed as if he was steering the conversation toward something less materialistic and more spiritual, the more they talked. Granger was caught a little off guard, since he was the one who usually directed the conversation. After all, he was here to learn more about this guy, not the other way around.

Yet, the more he answered Tim’s questions, the more he felt he understood him. Finally, Granger insisted that this curious man tell him more about himself. As Tron spoke, he said he worked with college students on App State’s campus through the apologetics club, Ratio Christi. His position as Co-Chapter Director wasn’t his full-time job. He worked in the Computer Science Department, his tent-making job, he mused. His real passion was serving the Lord. He talked about how today’s college student is seeking answers about spirituality, wanting to find their “own” faith, not their parents. “These kids are hungry to be fed,” he said with a deep furrowed brow of conviction, “they’re desperate, they don’t want to be comfortable. They want to find God on their terms, not their parents. They’ve been made uncomfortable by coming to college, which has allowed them to step beyond those comfort zones of life and seek something greater than what they knew at home.” Then he said something that hit Granger like a granite wall, “Granger O. Darby, are you willing to become desperate? Can you become uncomfortable enough to seek something deeper in your life?”

At first, Granger was amused, but Tron was laughing. His face was intentional, his gaze was direct and unmoving, eye-to-eye. Darby felt a redness growing on the back of his neck as anger began to boil up from his gut. How could this guy, someone who barely knew him, question his faith? Or was he?

“You see, Granger,” continuing to make eye contact, “in 2015, I left everything behind. I purposely became desperate to seek God and to serve Him fully. From that day forward, I was never comfortable being complacent; just attending church on Sundays wouldn’t work for me. Serving God meant much more.”

By now, Granger had begun to calm down as he listened to Tron’s story. He began to wonder how anyone in their right mind could leave everything behind – career, farm, friends. Not leaving him to wonder, as if reading his mind, Tron continued to share how, at each step of the way, through arduous steps after another, God provided for him and his family all that they needed. And now, God had brought him here, to App State, to a truly international mission field.

When he had finished, Granger’s head was swimming with turmoil, questions he couldn’t answer, and something of a contempt for this little man sitting before him, quietly sipping his dark brew. It was as if Tim’s question had opened up a side of himself that he had avoided looking at for fear of what it might say. All his life, he had pushed the envelope, pursuing his goals, closing deals, not allowing “No” to stop him in anything he did. But inside, he was never satisfied. The goals achieved only made him seek another, and another, until it seemed there was nothing that could truly make him happy–not the cars, the boats, the houses, the trophy wife, none of it. Sure, it felt good for a while, but with every new purchase, the shine quickly faded, and he was back to searching for that something to fill the void within. Yet, he couldn’t agree to that feeling controlling him. It was a fact of life, he would tell himself, and that was just how it was meant to be – we should always strive to be more.

In closing, Tron again asked, one last question, “So, Granger, I ask again, what’s it going to take to make you desperate?”

He left the coffee shop more confused than he had anticipated. That odd little man had seemingly turned his world upside down with little to no effort. What was wrong with being comfortable? Why did he have to become desperate to seek God? The nerve of this guy! Didn’t the preacher on TV say that God would reward him if he were a good Christian? If he understood Tron correctly, he was saying that to truly find God, you had to step outside of that wealth and comfort. How absurd!

Yet, the more he passed it through his salesman’s mental filter, the more the thought of becoming uncomfortable to truly find God seemed counterintuitive. Granger didn’t know it then, but he was starting to feel God’s conviction upon his life. But this was something foreign to his thought process. He wasn’t the touchy-feely kind of person. He needed to get some air, something to clear his mind. It was too early in the morning to start drinking, even though that was a consideration. Instead, sensing he felt like escaping something but couldn’t put his finger on what it was, he called his wife to let her know that he wouldn’t be home for their morning tee-time, but instead wanted to go for a short hike to clear his mind; besides, it was going to be another picture-perfect day. She understood, and besides, she needed to run some errands anyway.

It was around 10 AM when Darby’s black convertible BMW pulled into the trailhead’s parking lot. He grabbed his monogrammed hydration pack and hiking boots from the trunk, then headed out after making some minor adjustments to the straps. He wouldn’t be long, so he didn’t bother taking any trail food other than what might already be in the pack. He was a mile or more up the trail when the morning fog had lifted off the upper reaches of the peaks above him, revealing golden cumulus clouds against an azure, blue sky. “Simply stunning,” he bemused, trying to rid himself of the recent conversation. Granger’s pace was hard and fast. He hadn’t stayed in shape to allow days like this to bother him, so a good, rigorous morning climbing Grandfather would work any bitterness from his mind. But the farther he climbed, the more he couldn’t shake the conviction he saw in Tron’s eyes. The man was something of an oddity. Something about someone who would throw everything away just to become desperate: it seemed so preposterous.

As his mind worked over this tribulation, he didn’t notice the turn in the path, and soon found himself following a far less traveled route, until he stood upon the edge of a precipice that fell away into the depths of the valley before him. The location was known to rock climbers for its extensive and challenging angles, but not to typical hikers. Being off the beaten path, it was ideally suited for their reclusive sport.

Far in the distance stood blue mountaintops, their whispers inaudible but falling upon currents that carried wisps of clouds between them. For a moment, he stood in awe of the creation before him. “I need to capture this,” he said to himself as he grabbed the cell phone from his hip pocket. He took off his backpack to air out his back, which had been sweating from the intense pace he had kept. Holding up the device above his head, he did his best to steady the camera while backing as close to the edge as possible. He shed a broad Granger smile, posing. Suddenly, a blast of wind caught him slightly off balance, and then, from the depths of the earth, the ground began to shake. The massive boulder upon which he stood began to toss to and fro like a child’s marble on the edge of a stair, ready to drop into the chasm below. Now, unable to stand, Granger’s balance was at the mercy of the wind and earth upon which he tried to steady himself. For a second, he thought he might hold, but in the blink of an eye, he quickly saw the cliff face before him; his trajectory was down, down, down. A crash, a crack, and then the softness of a treetop, like a cradle, caught his limp body. Small rocks followed, ricocheting off the surrounding cliff as the dust settled and the earth and man stopped moving.

Somewhere in the distance, a raptor cried out, its voice echoing off the mountainside. Nearby, a man’s body hung limply by one leg from the top of a massive tree. Its gracefulness now burdened with a heavy load, causing it to tilt awkwardly to one side. Tiny drops of blood dripped to the forest floor far below as a man’s life hung in the balance.

 

[To be continued…]

 

 

 

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by | · 10:57 am

Vulnerability

“There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death.” – Romans 8:1-2

The sheer release, the omnifying conceptualization of the totality of the semester, arrived and, without fanfare or pomposity, passed as a perishable snowflake falling before you – a stark reminder of the beauty and the frailty of the reality that surrounds life. In the moment, you realize that your senses had almost become numb from the constant toil, and you scramble to collect your thoughts, to pull from the void that which keeps your life pursuant to the will of God. With clinched hands, nails dug into the meat of that which is about to be lost, you hold on for fear of losing all that is of value. One by one, you grab them, a snow globe of thoughts shaken, recollecting them, trying to embrace that which had seemingly vanished, and return to their former place. Yet, amid the storm, relevance and positioning had been rearranged as if by chance. But we know better.

To lose oneself in the pursuit of an agenda placed before us – a goal, a resolution, a tacit requirement; whatever it might be, it requires a level of focus that consumes our lives that pushes out everything we call living. Everything but the granite, the resolve that resides within, the flicker of hope, for without, we would be lost, is all that remains. This is how we often find ourselves at the conclusion of a season, a semester, a portion of life that was more than a grind. It was from this shadow that I had recently crawled, beaten, worn, but unfettered to carry on. But once we become free of that which had held us in bondage, we realize that the blessing of life is still there, the purest morning dew, sparkling like a diamond upon the cusp of the precious rose. It is a realization that He is faithful never to leave us, nor forsake us.

Emerging from beneath this boulder, it felt as if I had taken my first breath of life in a long time. And before I knew it, the Lord had placed before me a delectable portion, a reminder of why we do what we do in the service of ministry on a college campus. “The table is set before us in the presence of our enemies. He anointed my head with oil. My cup runneth over.”[1]

But to understand how all this unfolded, we must go back a day or so.

A few moments later, after my final exam, I found myself meeting with a young man who had unexpectedly come into my radar a few days earlier. But to appreciate this meeting, one had to go back to when the story really began.

It happened to be Friday night, one of those evenings when the time was usually taken up by a weekly meeting of the Ratio Christi Leadership team. Ratio Christi (RC), which means “Reason for Christ” in Latin, is a global apologetics organization that meets weekly on campus. On that particular night, the semester ended the day before. The students were embroiled in the first day of finals and preparation for the coming week’s exams. So, without fanfare and with a vague hope of finding at least one student with whom we might have a conversation, an RC colleague and I made our way to the campus dining facility, “Central,” as it’s known by the student body.

Upon landing at a table near the entrance, close to 6 pm, we surveyed the area. It was still early by student standards – they typically eat supper around nine. Settling in, it wasn’t long before we were joined by one of the Ratio Christi student leaders, Josh. Discussions started around plans for the break and the remaining finals. There was a certain feeling of renewed freedom in the air, like a fresh snowfall, an eagerness to partake in the unblemished beauty of that which promised excitement and escape from the tedium. A few minutes later, another leader named Great showed up, and not long after him, two more members joined. Before we knew it, we had a lively discussion underway. God had truly delivered.

But the best was yet to come.

Out of the corner of my eye, Elias sat not far away. Elias, a tall, thin, very well-mannered young man, was an undergrad who had been on our periphery the entire semester. He was the kind of student who always asked challenging questions but kept accepting Christ into his life at arm’s length. Motioning for him to join us, Elias came over, accepting the invitation, but said that he was with his roommate. “Well, invite him over, you both are certainly welcome,” I responded with a sincere gesture. He smiled and nodded, agreeing, and returned shortly with a trim, neat young man named Brent.

The group welcomed Brent, and the common communal questioning began: where are you from, what’s your major, what year are you, and so on. Since he was Elias’s roommate, we all had to know, “Do you have the same reservations as Elias about accepting Christ into your life?” Someone asked the elephant in the room question out loud, perhaps it was me, and Brent quickly responded that yes, he was a believer. There was a collective sigh from the spontaneous gathering. Elias grinned broadly but kept quiet. Then, curious and with some intention of wanting Elias’s itch to be scratched, I asked the young man, now sitting directly across from me, if he had any questions about faith that he might like to ask the group. Hey, we were apologists; we needed a good Friday night challenge. So, in true Godly fashion, he asked a question that more than caught my attention: “How can I become more vulnerable to God?”

He was looking directly at me, his lips twisted in a half-smile, half-grimace, but his eyes never wandered nor wavered in their intensity.

There was dead silence as a momentary lull fell over the table. Behind smiling faces, everyone was scrambling, trying to consider the source and intention of what he said. After what seemed an eternity, someone asked a clarifying question, to which he responded, “How can you become more vulnerable to God?”

From that point forward, the other students jumped in, eager to swim in the river of theological discussions. We had just walked through a semester in a mostly arid, academic desert; there were no more apologetic club meetings, and now, thanks to a more than thought-provoking question, we found ourselves standing on the shore of a beautiful, crystal-clear river flowing with life and love. One by one, we dove in and swam with all our might. The water was more than refreshing – it was exhilarating, the current swift. It felt like it had been an eternity.

Later that night, during prayer, Brent came to mind. The still, small voice said there was a need: someone crying out for help but hesitant to ask. Sometimes thoughts become more than ethereal contemplations, making us say, as Johan Wolfgang von Goethe’s Faust, “Verweile doch, du bist so schoene,” meaning, “Stay for a while, you are so beautiful.” But as fleeting as the snowflakes fall upon one’s lips, they are gone before we can savor their meaning for our lives. However, once in a while, God whispers a gentle reminder, pulling back that ethereal consciousness into the moment, making us aware of the obvious, allowing one to hear the cry for help in a busy world. Like a hand reaching out from the depths of an avalanche, smothered by life, we find them, and thanks be to God, we grab onto that desperate soul who wants to cling to life but heretofore didn’t know how.

Looking back, God’s voice was anything but still. There was a particular urgency to it, so much so that it forced me to immediately reach out to him. Being late on a Friday evening, one might be lucky to get a response from a student on social media by the following Monday, if then. But to my surprise, he quickly responded. It was an obvious sign: a hand reaching up from an avalanche in the snow, grasping for air, for survival, the cry to live.

A weekend and one final later, we sat down, and we quickly got to the heart of the matter – my instincts, and God’s nudge were correct, it was far beyond being vulnerable. It was even beyond the next question, how one could turn away from the sin in their life. As we dug into the answer to question after question, more layers of a life of depravity and isolation emerged, offering insight into the life of a young man who was near a breaking point.

That still small voice turned out to be a megaphone.

We read through Romans 8, and I reassured him that the scripture clearly says there is no condemnation for those who truly follow after Him. Then, feeling as if he needed to know that God was with him, even when he least realized it, we turned to Psalm 139, where I asked him to read it through slowly and methodically, with great care. As I patiently watched and waited, he read the entire Psalm. When he finished, he looked up at me and, with a look of somber reflection, said, “Wow. I never thought of it like that. He’s really with us no matter where we go, no matter how hard we try to flee from him. He is there.”

“Yes, and Amen,” I replied. “Do you think it was just a coincidence that we met in the dining hall Friday night? Do you realize that since Ratio Christi didn’t have a meeting, it was more likely for me to go home than to hang out on campus?”

His smile grew when he said, “Yeah, and I don’t often go with Elias to Central either. That’s crazy!”

“Ain’t it? You know, Brent, God is already there with you, waiting for you to open the door. You being vulnerable is not the question; rather, because of who He is, you can’t help but be vulnerable. All you have to do is open the door.”

We continued to discuss how it is no coincidence that God is ever-present in our lives; we only have to open our eyes and acknowledge his presence. “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten, full of grace and truth.”[2] Beholding him, realizing that He is there, the creator of the universe watching over us – truly, there is no greater sense of vulnerability one might have. If that’s not enough, we only need to turn to the Psalm, “O Lord, You have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up…Where shall I go from Your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, You are there!…even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me.”[3]

As the time passed, we talked about many other topics, and Brent shared his life’s story, and it quickly became apparent that we needed many more of these sit-downs. As a measure of recompense, earlier in the week, I had mentioned to several people the need to regain focus on discipling next semester. And before I knew it, there sitting before me was a young man who badly needed just that. Unbeknownst to me, before we ever sat down, my prayers for God to help me find direction in discipling were answered; God had already had a name for my ever-growing list.

In The Princess and the Goblin, George MacDonald wrote, “the fire did not hurt him; it only purified him,” referring to the character Curdie’s experience of a purifying transformation. Similarly, the trials of life become our spiritual formation, building character, refining us into the person God intends. Once we emerge from those trials of life, the fire, we find the weight lifted, our lives given back to us, but now, the purpose for which we had sought to strive shifted, and suddenly, we find ourselves standing before a great treasure – the opportunity to begin anew.

As a fleeting glimpse of a golden, mythical sunrise passes, so do those occasions when we are afforded the chance to pour into the life of someone who came close to the precipice of life’s edge. When we ourselves have been refreshed through the purifying fires, gleaning away all that is superfluous, the essence of life becomes much clearer. We become an asset, whether we know it or not, to those around us who need caring voices to guide their lives. If only we would listen to that still small voice.

In this season of new beginnings, listen to those voices around you and be ready to throw a lifeline to someone in need. Pull up your sleeves and get ready.

The fields are truly white with harvest, but the laborers are few.

 

[1] Psalm 23, KJV Bible

[2] John 1:14 KJV Bible

[3] Psalm 139 KJV Bible

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by | May 29, 2025 · 8:17 am

Hope in Tomorrow

“But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear.”  – 1 Peter 3:15

Rereading this favorite passage this morning, the word hope stood out. Hope, the very thing that our salvation provides, can be compared to many earthly things, all of which fall short of its eternal implication. One might find a slight semblance of the divine nature of this word to that of the days leading up to a vacation or journey far from home. While we may know most of the details of our trip, there are those tantalizing, mysterious aspects that bring upon us an eagerness to be surprised. In all this jovial apprehension, hope percolates up to the top of our emotional cauldron, providing us with a purpose to undergo whatever hardships we may encounter in our struggle to reach that new destination. Most often, our preconceived notions of what is to come either fall short, or are never comparable to what we imagine. To that latter, the hope of life eternal, in the presence of God, can only be fathomed in the slimmest of margins with what we will actually experience. To know Him is to know love. To be fully surrounded by that agape, that blissful envelopment of God’s omnipotent being can bring a sense of power in the hope that it provides.

Today as you go about your day, think about hope. Do you have it? Do you want it? Can just the image of a beautiful bouquet of flowers ignite the passion within to seek it? Seek Him first, and all things will flow from Him. #thanksbetoGod #seekHimFirst #faith #hope #love

 

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by | March 10, 2025 · 8:35 am

Breathless Etchings of the Soul

When it all comes down to the realization of the evidence to which we have been afforded over possibly a very lengthy portion of our lives, there comes a time to accept or at least to earnestly consider, that a gift, or a multitude of gifts, by which we have been blessed are our purpose through which God expects us to use to His glory. Like the finger upon the keyboard, on a single tap, a note fills the air, and suddenly, our thoughts become transformed into a flowing stream of unending scenes of waterfalls, mountain meadows, and all manner of beautification to which we are drawn by the Spirit into an undulating dance of rapturous bliss and joy. Ann Lamott put it best: “Inspiration comes like a train moving through the landscape. You see it approaching while you’re hanging laundry or doing something mundane, and you have to race inside to catch it before the last car—the caboose—disappears.”[1]

But how does such inspiration manifest itself? Could it be that when we allow ourselves to imbibe of such wonders, we are, as a child, being led by the hand of the Father down a sparsely lit path through a dark and foreboding forest, where alone we would shudder with terror? Yet, as now, the sense of protection, that wall of impenetrable love, envelopes us, for where there is perfect love, there can be no fear and in such a place, we are free to find something planted deep inside; something when acted upon, seems to derive is source from someplace beyond our own conscription of creativity, someplace beyond logic and reason. When the world’s inhibitions are removed, it’s like finding that crystal stream gurgling through the rocks worn smooth with an eternity of time, some laden with the glowing greenness of soft, downy moss – our soul becomes refreshed and renewed, overflowing with more than we can contain. Bursting forth in a flood of breathless etchings, the ethereal becomes substantial as we strive to quickly put it on paper, play it through the keyboard, or splash its essence upon the canvas of life. How fleeting they are, those gracious seconds when in visions the Lord sets before us of His marvelous works slip beyond our grasp.

Today, seek to find that precious gift God has placed inside you, and find a place where you can hear the still, small voice. Give breath to that which begs to come forth, and glorify Him in the process. #thanksbetoGod

[1] Lamott, Anne. 1994. Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. New York: Anchor Books.

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by | March 6, 2025 · 8:30 am

Smiles in the Storms

A blinding snow obscured the tracks in the road, making it nearly impossible to see much beyond my car’s headlights. The bloody knuckles of my right hand gripped the steering wheel tightly while my eyes focused on the single tire tread track upon which all hope of traction and forward progress existed. It had already been a little more challenging a morning than one might hope for.

The car battery, now having weakened over several days while we waited for the maintenance department, fully booked,  to allow an appointment, kept my life a little more on edge than usual. However, this particular day, it had bottomed out, and the jump-start pack with it, leaving me the only recourse to attempt to pull the old truck up the hill on a precarious balancing act to get it barely close enough so that the jumper cables might reach. There, at the very last inch, they found their mark. However, even with the power of a running engine and the charging force behind it, the car remained hesitant to start. It was at this moment that I was reminded of how it was to laugh in the face of the storm. A smile came across my face as it became apparent that this would be one of those days. After a few minutes of reflection and prayer, it was with a questionable apprehension that I slid into the driver’s seat, stepped on the brake, and then, thinking of the Father, touched the ignition button. The comforting sound of an engine vigorously turning over rang like the peals of the church bells on Sunday morning.

The first verses that appeared to me upon finding my seat at the coffee shop were these from Psalm 139: “O lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.  Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.  For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether.  Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me.”

May the Lord be with you as you find your way through the storms of life today, and be willing to even smile in the face of adversity should it come your way. And as always, “Thanks be to God.”

 

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by | March 5, 2025 · 8:23 am

The Taunts of Torrents

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” – Lamentations 3:22-23

A pale grayness peered through the driving rain as the car’s wipers struggled to keep up. Another late night, another early morning; the time between inconsequential except for the desirousness of sleep that beckoned helplessly. Like a maiden that stands on the porch, sheltered from the torrential downpour, bidding her prince, her dearest love, goodbye as he rides off, departing for the calling of the war which awaits beyond the shelter of the nearby mountaintops, so does one leave the warm bed on days like this. The only consolation, that warm mug of bitter brew that awaits at the top of the hill in the cozy coffee shop, and the beloved, worn Bible – God’s word; like an old friend, they await your arrival.

As the car door shuts, the cold, driving rain forces you to step a pace or two quicker beneath the overhang of the shop’s storefront. In the back of your mind, you try to assure yourself that even though the dying car battery has already caused you to brave the elements once, hopefully, there will be enough charge to get you started and off to the next stage of the day’s journey. Settling into the bench amongst the row of singular, small tables with a warm mug in hand, you are reminded that even in the midst of the storms, you have learned to find joy amongst the crashing waves and lightning bolts. Even though the car might fail, even though the roads were covered with water, you made it safely, and now, find comfort in those familiar pages: the shelter, the peace of Christ that passes all understanding.

Yes, there might be ominous skies above, the roads might be washed away, but we can know that there will be joy, even in the darkest of mornings.

#thanksbetoGod

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by | February 23, 2025 · 1:51 pm

B.B. King and a Bald Guy

The grizzly 21 degrees meets you at the door with a cold, frosty mug of contempt as you leave behind the warmth and comfort of that humble abode from whence you call home, which lately has been barely a place where you briefly lay your head to rest. The rapidity with which the hours of a day pass become incredulous, the blur a mind-numbing flurry of people, relationships, and learning, all part of the greater ministry, their incomprehensible parts intertwined in the great dance of perpetuity through which we are traveling, God’s plan for our lives.

From the darkened corner of Bald Guy Coffee Roastery, my temporary place of repose, the strains of B.B. King waft above the aroma of roasted beans and brew. As with any song, notes like stepping stones of a garden path take one back to another time, another season of life. It was the early nineties; UF had just finished building the beautiful Center for Performing Arts and Art Gallery across the road from our campus housing, University Village South, on the outer realms of the University’s property. Eager to attend, when we heard that B.B. King would be performing, it was the perfect excuse to take a much-needed break from my Engineering studies and enjoy the other side of life’s journey, partaking in something besides the pursuit of academic success. Feeding the soul, nourishing that which is imperceptible, the non-qualitative negotiables which inspire are as important as those honorable goals and accolades, however misguided. One might argue that we should seek to feed solely upon God’s Word, which indeed in itself is of premiere importance, yet God would not want us to travel through this life without finding time to appreciate those things of his creation, even if they from gifts bestowed upon beings within His masterpiece. So, it could be said of music, art, and literature – Man’s participation in His splendidness.

Mankind’s replication of God is never as magnificent as the original piece of work. When hearing a recording of a song, a replication of a beautiful piece of artwork, or the summary of a literary masterpiece, although they may be inspiring and nearly perfect in their copy of the original, they never can compare to hearing, seeing, or reading the original. As the digitized melody mimics B.B.’s course, soulful voice, the memory of that night returns like a fog slowly crawling up the mountain, overflowing into the crevices until it submerges the air in which you stand.

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by | January 25, 2025 · 4:17 pm

Fast – day 5

There is the continual ephemeral feeling of expectant joy today interspersed with a tinge of irresistible freedom from the bondage of gravity in fluctuating, ever-so-slight revelations. Gone is the need to search for the next crumb of sustenance. In its void lies the reminder of why we pull back from the table of consumption to remind ourselves that we need to orchestrate, at various times, the opportunity to become more dependent upon God than of our own accord. Along with this self-prescribed extraction comes the increased awareness and perceptibility of knowing that He’s with us – through the physical submissiveness, we are made to stand upon the precipice of the precariousness of survivability.

The invisible nature of God becomes less translucent. His transcendence opines upon our character into the most intimate levels of consciousness, allowing for his breath to fog the glass before us. With trembling forefinger, we etch out the question we seek in that foggy mist that obscures our own image until the track of our written message reveals us once more through the picket fence letters of our message. “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.”[1]

Self-deprived abstinence doesn’t make one’s salvation any more than a man rowing a boat upon the ocean makes him a champion sailor – it merely brings him closer to the shore, as one might become closer to the presence of God in their deprivation.

The confines of our hearts are often self-inflicted implications of our human nature. Layer upon layer builds through life’s journey, burying the soul within the ramparts of flesh, both lustily and bodily, becoming entwined into the capital vices of sin. “Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?”[2]

Breaking free of that yoke, even if for a short time, allows one to see beyond the restricted walls of the everyday encumbrances of life. Allowing one’s head to rise above the din of mortal reprehensiveness pushes our being into a closer relationship with the Almighty. Forgoing the needs of our body, we take one step closer to finding that of the glorified state, if nothing less than a glimpse. As one considers themselves returning from a life-changing adventure, where their ascent to the tops of the world can never be replicated, they too find themselves forever changed. It is here, in this remnant of coexistence with the Father, that we, too, as Moses returning from the mountain, can glow with God’s nearness to our hearts.

[1] 1 Corinthians 13:12 KJV Bible

[2] Isaiah 58: 5 KJV Bible

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by | January 22, 2025 · 8:06 am

Seeking Him

“Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.”

– Matthew 7:7-8

“And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive.”

– Matthew 21:22

 

“And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.”

– Jeremiah 29:13

“In all the ways that I love thee Lord, let me count the ways”

– Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The dim light reflects in the dark mahogany depths of my coffee mug as spirited vapors swirl upward while my hands grasp the warmth of the essence within, encouraging the words that speak to me from the letters on the page written so many centuries before. In them, as with the steam from the cup, there lies a spiritual essence of God speaking to us if only we recognize its presence. For the question that presents itself this morning in so many different ways is this,

“What do we seek in life?” Do we seek God in all things, or does it take a philharmonic orchestra and fireworks to stir us enough to entreat a momentary thought? Or do we take the time to meditate in prayer, listening to that still small voice for discernment? Might we search for the precious crumb of Godliness in the most minute detail of our lives, whether inanimate or alive, not finding Him literally in those things but finding his fingerprints, the forensic remnants of the Master’s hand upon his creation?

Walking amongst the scenic boughs of the forested landscape, it’s easy to encompass one’s thoughts about a Creator, especially when backlit by a vibrant sunrise or sunset. It takes an extra level of focus, however, to find something transcendent in the daily grind we call life. My eyes often grow weary reading code as it scrolls down the screen, one line of numbers and text after another – it can become overwhelmingly hypnotic, to the point you can literally forget to leave your chair for hours. Yet, you must be able to press the brake pedal and sit back, and like the circus juggler spinning multiple pates upon the end of long pool cue-like sticks, for an instant relish in the moment, realizing that through all the multitude of monitors, various automated scrolling windows, and flashing icons all vying for your attention, there is something magnificent at work. From the tiniest beginning of computing, the single bit, to the vastness of the implications of AI, there has to be something working through us, something that drives mankind to pursue the development of technology beyond what we might be able to control. It is in this reflection that we might find, as with the sunrises bursting through the distant tree line, that we are not the masters of our realm any more than the sand crab is of his shell. We exist because He hath made us, and not of ourselves. When we seek Him in all things, we find that there are expanses of vastness while infinitesimally small nanoparticles that keep the brightest scientist challenged to understand. It is as if God unveils one little wrinkle of His infinite being, one minuscule particle at a time. To mankind, they become life-changing discoveries. Meanwhile, you can almost hear God laugh.

Today, take the time to pause and reflect, seeking God in even the most obscure item. Although it might seem elusive, be patient, and perhaps you will find that door upon which to knock, that it might be opened into a deeper love of the Father. God is always there waiting for us to seek Him; all we have to do is awaken to this realization and find a life beyond expectations.

Seek Him with all your heart and soul, and you will be blessed beyond measure.

Thanks be to God.

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by | January 21, 2025 · 8:54 am

The Abyss Before You

Standing upon the precipice means one has gained the height by some method of exertion. In the moment of laborious effort, the heart still pounding as the lungs attempt to regain their foothold on sequestering the precious air that spans the depths of the abyss spreading out before you, one cannot help to be taken aback. Suddenly, the breathtaking reality does something quite unnatural and unexpected in that its grandeur is absorbed into the consciousness of one’s soul, permeating that worldly layer of rationality and legalism to become one with the animated spirit within. For once we are afforded a glimpse beyond the veil to which beforehand we were excluded, partly of our own preemptive nature, but solely by God. It wasn’t until the ultimate sacrifice of His only Son that we were afforded access. Some look at that invitation with skeptical ineffability. As one might see the spectacular and dismiss it as just another canyon, others partake of that sustenance of incomprehensible serenity and sup it to the lips as one might communion. One is merely amused, while the other is changed.

So, at that moment, once more, we are given the opportunity to partake in something transcendent of our human nature, to peek into the chasm of eternity, and, if even for a brief second, sense something greater than anything we might imagine of our own accord. In this instance, God’s Word commends this vision as follows, “Do not be deceived. God is not mocked, for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap. For he who sows to his flesh will of the flesh reap corruption, but he who sows to the Spirit will of the Spirit reap everlasting life.”[1]

Thanks be to God.

[1] Galatians 6:7-8 KJV

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