http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVljJC_k4vY
Author Archives: Timothy
WKXV interview in Knoxville, TN.
Filed under Uncategorized
Adventures: The Least Expected Opportunities
This past week seemed to last forever and was suddenly over, all at the same time.
One thing that struck me as profound was how fast life changes and then it’s gone. My children, now young teens, no longer look for the same adventures at the amusement park rides, yet on the open trails of the forests, we are all children once more. I can still keep up with them, and for the most part, still able to go farther and faster, but that too soon will change. Like the manmade technologies in their lives, they understand, master and manipulate all too easily. Meanwhile, the things of life, the real world around us are still perplexing and often beyond comprehension.
I found myself looking at the outside of a tiny radio station when we drove up to WKXV in Knoxville, TN. Knowing radio stations these days can be virtually anywhere, I knew in advance not to expect anything 
elaborate with regard to studio size and structure. With the advances in technology, a tiny station like WKXV can broadcast around the world without a transmitting tower anywhere near their station. So it was, when we arrived outside the older brick home, now turned into a radio station, I was reminded of how humble we are and that this was as much or more air time than we should receive in the great big world of media. When we unloaded the van and stepped inside, we found our host and owner, Ted Lowe, greeting us at the door. Shane, the DJ for the afternoon, was already in the middle of a broadcast. The interior of the studio was filled with multiple rooms where live recordings are and evidently have been done quite often; this would be our first.
Ted showed us to what was once a garage area, now turned into what looked like a small church sanctuary. The pulpit was on a raised platform with several folding chairs setting out for the congregational audience to observe while the broadcasts were being aired. This is where my sister and wife sat, while they watched us sing the couple songs we had time to perform following my interview. Later I was painfully reminded, after the show was already taped, that one should always perform a sound check. Unfortunately, the recording taken had the pulpit mic turned way up, making my daughter’s singing much louder than the other mic which my son and I shared. Regardless of the results, the experience for my family and I was one of unexpected adventure and surprise; this would always be our first live radio broadcast, one we will share for many years to come.
Like the rest of the week, it was the unexpected events that will stick with us the longest.
We took a couple days to go to Dollywood, which we took at a casual pace, enjoying as much of the scenery in the park as we did the rides. Each morning, we would go for a short run, and then head out to the park. Each 
day the drive to and from Pigeon Forge was as enjoyable as was the ultimate destination. With each twist and turn in the windy mountain roads, we found more and more to store away in our minds for future visits.
One such destination was to be Cade’s Cove. However, part of our plan was to go bike riding but upon further inspection, we found that the only days this was feasible were not possible, so we had to scrap our biking excursion and go for the hike we had looked forward too. Originally, we were going to drive around Cade’s Cove and hike from the rest stops along the way. When the day came, we had enough driving for the week and wanted to do more hiking, so we chose the Laurel Falls trail, which was on the road that led into Gatlinburg; another destination we had 
hoped to achieve on this trip. The trail up to Laurel Falls was 1.3 miles; straight up. The warning signs posted at the entrance warn of potential death from falling and bears. Needless to say, we were fairly warned.
The hike to the top was moderately strenuous. Many times we had to work our way around elderly or handicapped people whom were struggling to reach the summit. The 
eventual trail’s end landed on the falls, where the cold water was more than refreshing. You could almost feel the ions in the air from the 
water splashing and cascading down the mountain. We took extra time to enjoy the coolness of the water while my wife headed on back down the mountain, hoping to gain a little distance on us before we too descended. What she didn’t count on was the surprise she found as she rounded one of the curves in the trail; a family of black bears. From what she retold of her adventures, people began to get all crazy with fear when the bears approached, some nearly falling off the trail in their mad rush to escape the approaching beast.
My wife boldly stood her ground.
As the bear approached, grown men crouched behind my wife, taking pictures. Instead of backing away like the rest of the crowd, she stepped forward, becoming the aggressor. The bear soon left the trail and went off into the woods. We knew none of this was going on as we made our descent down the slope; yet as we drew closer, people told us of there still being bears on the trail below. I guess all those years of dealing with my stubbornness, she wasn’t about to let a bear stop her.
Finally, we reached the mile marker where they had told us of the encounter. My wife was nowhere to be found, but the bears were still in the woods nearby, which we were able to observe. The excitement of the moment was brief, but the remainder of the walk down, we made our best 
bear-calls, often causing oncoming hikers to stop and look for bears up or below the trail. Along with our bear sounds, we continued our “Hoop-laaaa” calls from night before, when we took a late night run to Krispy Kreme donuts. We were in that sugar frenzied state and yelling “Hoop-laaaa” out the window only made sense. Some people even began to echo back our crazy calls; it was a blast.
We were a bit tired, but excited from the adventure when we finally reached the base of the mountain. From there, we drove on into Gatlinburg. Famished, we found a quick bite to eat, and then waited for the afternoon storms to pass before we broke out the instruments and did a little buskin’ on the streets. One Asian gentlemen from Georgia wrote us a $25 check right there on the spot; that was another first; buskin’ for checks. We ended the evening with a late supper at Chik-Fil-A on the ride home.
The following day we slept in, resting from the previous day’s adventure and the final planned major event and part of the reason for our trip; the book signing at the B&N in Knoxville.
Like the rest of the week, the book signing was known but the people and stories told and heard during the event were as welcome and unexpected as everything else that had transpired during the week up to that point. On our journey home the following day, we were stopped for two hours on the interstate and had plenty of time to reflect on it all; it was a good feeling and a great journey we had been left with, regardless if we expected it or not. In a way, it made our eventual return home all the more welcome.
Those adventures we most cherish often come from the least expected opportunities; if only we choose to rise to meet them, this is our destiny.
Filed under Inspirational, Nature
Life on the Run…
Today I looked back in my blog journal to see what was going on last year at this time. I had just started writing my first blog and was still finding my legs, so to speak. It was July and we had just begun the 100+ temperatures, which would become known as the hottest summer on record. I also began running again, even in the heat. I read what I wrote at that time, which can be found in the following link:
https://timothywtron.dreamhosters.com/the-thief-called-time/
It was obvious that I was struggling both with my out of shape legs, which had not known this type of physical 
activity in nearly 20 years, and with the heat. I was determined that if I could run in that heat, I could run in anything if I didn’t kill me first; I was nearly correct. I made it all the way to December of last year before getting extremely ill with the respiratory illness that was going around. I had been increasing my mileage each week up to that point until I was able to run 10 miles on my long run. It was a far cry from the days when I trained for marathons, taking in an 18 or 20 miler on the long days. Yet, along the way, my body had become healthier. I felt better and had more endurance which certainly helped on those long nights at work; I work the night shift. Sleep is too often sacrificed in order to keep up the daily schedule my life creates. Yet, the more I got in shape, the further sleep I did get seemed to go. In other words, my recovery rate also increased.
Lately, I’ve been running with my daughter who is trying to get in shape for her attempt to run cross country this year. Today, she was still mourning the loss of another cat, so I was on my own. I went out for a couple miles, just to stretch my legs and wound up running four instead. It just felt too good to stop. It was still in the mid 90’s temperature-wise, yet I had now been running off and on for a year and my legs are now in much better shape than last July. Now when I go run, I don’t think about dying and the pain; I’m once again free to allow my mind to wander and take in the scenery while thoughts randomly pop in and out of my consciousness. Sometimes I find myself writing verses to songs, chapters to my book’s sequel, or just making plans for an upcoming event. Either way, it’s a freedom of thought, to become one with nature, to experience the feeling of movement without thought of doing so.
I now enjoy running once more.
I now get to experience on a personal level the world around us. This past week alone I saw two majestic bucks, antlers in full velvet; the likes of which I had never seen in pictures or in person. I’ve seen beautiful butterflies float in the sunshine, with the azure blue sky for a background. I’ve been escorted by Red Tail hawks as they cross my path, two and fro, looking for prey far below. I’ve seen neon green caterpillars, so bizarre in color that they appear man-made. Then there are the forests themselves, the full bounty of a summer rich with long deep rains. The leaves so full, they appear to pull the canopy down with the weight of their abundance. Yes, the humid warm air might be uncomfortable on the surface but inside, the lungs are enriched by the comforting fullness filling every tiny brachium with oxygen and life.
Yes, I’m enjoying my runs once more.
Last year at this time I didn’t know if that would ever be possible to run pain free ever again. I still have a long way to go. I’m not in the best shape I could be in. I lost a lot of ground after stopping when I got sick last December. It took a while before I got started again. Yet, I now know that all it takes is consistency and patience; two things age teaches you very quickly.
Some things in life we can never go back too, nor would we want too, but sometimes, with the blessing of the Lord, we are able to once again achieve that level, physical or mental, we once knew; this is feeling is greater than any earthly reward.
Here’s a question for you: What is something that you’ve neglected for some time and then gone back to and either regained your former level of ability or was able to raise above that level?
I liked the scripture that I used in the previous blog so much that I included it here again. Enjoy,
“I have seen something else under the sun: The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favor to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all.” – Ecclesiastes 9:11
Filed under Inspirational, Nature, Running, Sports
And the Thunder Rolled…
My daughter and I were just about to finish our run yesterday evening when there came the low rumble of thunder from off in the distant. Dark storm clouds had been brewing and rain was falling off and on all throughout the day, so we had caught an opportunity to get a couple miles in before the next downpour began. I thought about our safety and knew that if there was thunder, then somewhere there was lightning. It was this thought that made me hear the words again, “Would you please pass the corn,” ring in my ears once more.
It was nearly forty years ago when we had been gathered at my paternal grandparent’s house for an afternoon dinner and were all gathered around the table. My grandparents didn’t have a fancy dining room, rather the large extended table sat in the kitchen, just an arms length away from the sink. Rain had been falling off and on throughout the day, much like yesterday, so we had decided to make it an afternoon spent indoors. The windows and doors were open as the sweet smell of grandma’s garden just outside the kitchen window wafted fragrances of ripening vegetables that would soon bless our table. Grace had just been performed and the passing of the food around the table had begun. Someone had missed out on the corn and obviously didn’t want to lose any ground so they asked out loud, “Would you please pass the c…?” Before they got the whole word out, there came a blast from above that shook the house, rang our ears and lit up the room all simultaneously.
Somewhat stunned we sat in awe of the power of God.
Before anyone could speak, my two female cousins who had been sitting a few feet away in the front room, came running into the kitchen telling us they had been hit by a blue ball of light that came out of the T.V. They had been watching the television when the lightning struck. They excitedly described that when it blew out the T.V., there came a ball of blue light rolling out of the set, directly toward them. Someone tried to rest their fears by saying it was probably like when someone took your picture and you would still see that bright light in your eyes for a short time afterward. They both adamantly denied this and once again reiterated the blue ball scene. They went on to tell us that the younger cousin had been sitting on the lap of the other and how the ball came straight for them and then passed through their stomachs. We all shook our heads in disbelief but disdained from further questioning in honor of their sanity. Years later, I would learn of this phenomenon known as “St. Elmo’s Fire” and how pilots would often see this happen in aircraft that would take a direct lighting strike while in flight. Often times, the blue ball would dance around the cockpit before finding a ground source to dissipate into. That day, however, we simply disbelievingly questioned the description of those who experienced the event.
The blue ball story had barely ended when someone returned from the front porch and exclaimed to all, “You ought to see the mess on the front porch.” We all leapt from our seats around the table and crowded around the front door, peering out into the scene before us. Thankfully nobody had been sitting outside when the bolt hit. Just a few feet off the front porch stood a giant majestic Sycamore tree. The side of the tree facing the house was now bare and the bark from it had been blasted all over the porch and surrounding yard. Upon further inspection, one of my uncles who had examined the house for any signs of damage explained how one of the guide wires from the T.V. antennae that stood next to the house was grounded to the Sycamore, which was probably one of the reasons it had been hit. Amazed and still somewhat in shock, we slowly made our way back to the kitchen table where our meal still sat, frozen in time, as if on pause. After everyone had made it back, we began in unison to continue where we left off. However, before getting very far someone speculated, as all had heard, that we shouldn’t ask for the, “Shhh,” someone said, “Don’t repeat it, we might take another hit and this one might be worse.” Then a discussion began about was it “corn” or was it “squash” that did it. The final consensus was the “corn” did it. So for the rest of the meal, just to be safe, we asked, “Would you please pass that,” and then would point to the appropriate dish even though corn was very touchy at that point.
While the meal resumed where it had left off, the rain began to come down again and the streams of droplets poured in tiny waterfalls. It added a tranquil sound to the talk around the table where we sat and ate fresh vegetables and other dishes grown or raised on the farm. Unlike today, we were in touch with the world around us, either feeling its effects through the atmosphere or by ingesting the food created therein.
Yesterday, after we finished our run, we took time to cool down, taking off our shoes and socks, letting our feet breathe before finally going inside to shower in the air-conditioned house. Nowadays, with all the windows shut tight and the man-made climate, we are losing touch with our world. The long hot summer days giving way to the cool crisp days of autumn have less significance. On the farm, back in those days with open windows, the summer months were hot even in the shadowed confines of the ancient home, so we moved a little slower, but the fall brought a new time; harvesting and gathering. With the change in season, we began to prepare for the cold winter months. Today in our, “have it now” world, we take less time in preparation from one season to the next. The only similarity is winter, where we are once again confined to the warmth of indoors.
The farther we move away from our connection to the earth, the farther we move away from who we are. Those who control our world would do well to step back in time and live for a short time outside of the man-made world. Maybe then their decisions would have little more foresight into what is truly important.
Today as I sit here writing the rain drops are falling on the skylights above me.
I thank God for rain and thunderstorms for they give us time to pause and reflect on life and days gone by.
Filed under Farming, Inspirational, Nature
To Live the Simple Life….
Sometimes I yearn for simplicity in living life.
Many years ago, when I was in my early teens, once a week each summer we loaded the push mower, coolers, and grocery bags of clothes into the old Ford pickup, and then headed down south, deep into the wilds of Kentucky to spend time at the old home place located on the banks of the Green River, somewhere near Sebring. I can recall the long, hot drive with the warm summer winds beating us through the open truck windows. Our skin numbed from the open air ride welcomed the slower pace once we neared our destination. The narrow paved roads quickly vanished into gravel trails with ruts separated by grass paths, which eventually lead to what appeared to be an old abandoned house. This was the old home place of my step-mother’s parents. It had no running water, no indoor 
plumbing and no electricity. There was a two-seater outhouse and hand dug well, all covered by weeds and vines that had accumulated from the previous year. The vegetation would be so overgrown, that from the front gate, there was hardly a dwelling visible. Just outside the dilapidated front gate would unload our weaponry from the truck; mowers, sling blades, axes and hand saws. Then before the sun would set, we would begin our assault. We always worked the first day on the area immediately around the house and make paths to the vital out areas such as the kitchen, well and outhouse. Before getting too involved, we first would cut the path to the kitchen so the women folk could carry in the food and cooking utensils. I never recalled much past this part since I was always hard at work on the jungle outside. What I came to discover was that the reclamation was as much ongoing inside as it was outside, from a year’s worth of emptiness having being replaced by all manner of spider webs, nests and other surprises. We never heard the screams from inside since the lawnmower drowned them out. Outside, we likewise would always encounter some new infestation or pest that had to be dealt with in order to preserve any semblance of civilization, yet we kept the screaming to a minimum.
It would be nearly dark when the call for supper would come. We had another full day’s work ahead but for now, we had fought to reclaim the yard and area immediately around the house. Sweat laden, weary bodies were glad to find a hot plate of food, regardless if we were able to bath or not. This was the first time I had recalled having SOS. for supper. However, instead of the rich man’s version I found in the Air Force years later made with chipped beef, this SOS was simple and plain, made with homemade sausage and whole milk; simple but the best. The biscuits made from scratch were cooked in the old wood stove on the back porch of the old place, which was still functional. We drank cold water dipped from the long thin pipe that was lowered manually by a rope into the hand dug well. The fresh cold water, hot biscuits and SOS made for a meal fit for a king.
Since we had worked to nearly dark, after supper and a quick bucket wash, we would find our bedrolls and claim our sleeping arrangements for the night. My favorite was the whiskey slat hammock that hung between two oak trees in the yard. From the high end, you could lie through the night and watch the barges move up the river, which was just down the hill from the house. The drop off from the yard to the river was so steep that it would appear that you were eye level with the tops of the barges as they forced themselves up river. More than once, I was awakened during the 
night by a barge operator who had found my bed in their spot lights and felt it necessary to blow their air-horn, which would nearly roll me out of the hammock. I soon found that covering myself with dark blankets was necessary in order to hide my bed from detection of the practical jokers driving the barges. It was the only way of securing a full night’s sleep. Of course, if rain was in the forecast we would pile into the few beds inside the house, like firewood, in head to toe fashion. I still don’t know how we got any sleep other than the fact we would be so exhausted from working to fight the forest during the day, we quite literally fell off to sleep without any effort.
Once we finally reclaimed the property, one swing of the sling blade at a time, we finally had time to enjoy the wonderful old place and the reason for our recovery efforts. The house set on a bluff that overlooked the Green River. The confluence was deep enough to support barge traffic, which was of course already obvious from the hijinks of the barge captains. The drop off from the tree covered yard to the river was very steep, but somehow there had been a small pasture separating the two with a small pole barn that had seen its share of floods. In order to get to the river you had to follow a path from the yard, through the overgrown pasture, past the old pole barn, to the river bank 
below. This is where we eventually would take our baths. Years later, I would recall these first open air baths while I was building my cabin in North Carolina. There too, I would find the open water bathing refreshing and invigorating. Just knowing you were getting clean and taking the risk of being caught doing so seemed to add an exhilaration all its own; barge captains or not.
The rest of the week was spent either fishing, cooking over an open fire or just finding ways to amuse ourselves without T.V. or any other games; there was never enough room in the truck to pack toys. There was a Mulberry tree in the yard that always seemed to ripen during our stay. Here we would find sweet treats and learn the song and game of “Here we go round the Mulberry bush”. It was games like this that soon took the place of the meaningless board games we had left behind. As the week would progress, we would find more about ourselves and how living in the past could still be fun. We often spent time in the evenings reading from the old Bible that was kept in the house and talking about the stories while sitting around the campfire in the yard.
Here we learned what it meant to live with nothing.
I can remember as a between-meal-treat we were given a slice of loaf bread, with butter spread on it, sprinkled with sugar. If we were lucky, we might get to go into the nearby town and visit the old general store and get a soda. The front of the store was the skinny double-door type, which had the screen door that creaked when you opened it. Inside, it was dark and cool regardless if it was a hot and humid day. If we wanted to go farther south, it required crossing the river. There was no bridge, only a ferry that would run during the day, when the ferry operator was around. The ferry boat was only big enough for two cars, so heavy traffic was never expected. The 
gravel road to the south wound around from farm to farm through crop lands of corn, soybean and tobacco. We took this trip once, going somewhere that made my step-grandmother cry; an old graveyard where her family was buried. I can recall the solemn silence, the dust and the trip back to the river and the ferry boat ride back to the other side. We never took the trip to the other side of the river after that day.
Although these annual summer retreats were only short periods in my life, I can vividly recall the feeling of having to create something from nothing; knowing that the amenities of life were not at your fingertips and that you had to plan ahead. Everything from the trip to the outhouse, to the next meal, you had to be thinking in stages and not living for the moment as we so often do today. I can be thankful that a part of me remembers those few days each year when we would step back in time and live as our ancestors had generations before us.
To know how simple life can become when all else is removed and to focus on what living truly is; this is one of the most precious gifts we can give ourselves.
When life slows down to a crawl and with it, we can once again find out what really matters most; this is what I yearn.
Filed under Inspirational, Nature
“Don’t No”…Sermon delivered on June 16th, 2013 at Cumnock UMC
Luke 24: 36-39 Now as they said these things, Jesus Himself stood in the midst of them, and said to them, “Peace to you.” 37 But they were terrified and frightened, and supposed they had seen a spirit. 38 And He said to them, “Why are you troubled? And why do doubts arise in your hearts? 39 Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself. Handle Me and see, for a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see I have.”
This past week I came to the realization that we often overlook the Heavenly connections in our real world; they pass us by and we don’t even know. Too often we are too busy to take the time to reflect on the moment.
“Oh, worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness! Tremble before Him, all the earth.” – Psalm 96:9
Take for example the time of evening when the world around us prepares for dusk; birds calling to one another as the night owls prepare their flights, the choruses of frogs in the nearby ponds begin their chants and the occasional cry of the foreboding call of the coyote. The sky transitioning from the day to night, when the low hanging sun causes the horizon to be painted in hues no earthly artist could conceive. Beauty so overwhelming in every sensation that too try to recreate it would be utterly impossible; and we don’t even know.
It was during the funeral of Ms. Frankie Harris on Tuesday that I became overwhelmed with the idea which I speak to you about; how things happen and we don’t even know.
A couple years ago, before John Harris passed, I would go over to the Harris house and help sit with Ms. Frankie. She was suffering from the advance stages of Alzheimer and would require someone to be with her 24×7. So, 
members of our church would go and sit with her while members of her family would take her husband John to the hospital for treatments. It was during this time that I found out Ms. Frankie loved to sing. When I would come for my visits, I would bring my guitar and we would spend my time with her singing old hymns, one after another. Boy how the time would fly. I would need my song book to read from but I found Ms. Frankie was singing her songs from memory. It was then that I realized something special was happening with the music. It was an avenue for her to step back in time and recall memory that was otherwise blocked by her illness. It was then that I realized our connection through music was Heaven sent.
Sometime after John passed, we would still find time to get together to sing on odd occasions. So it was one Sunday that I asked Ms. Frankie if she would do me the honor of singing one of my mother’s favorite songs, “In the Garden”. Ms. Frankie responded happily, “I’d Love to”. So Ms. Frankie, her son Jody, who helped her out on the occasional memory lapse and myself sat up in front of the congregation and did our best rendition of, “In the Garden.” We used it for the special song that day and unbeknownst to me, Denise filmed it on her phone. What started out to be us simply having some fun honoring God, turned out to be a legacy of Ms. Frankie. They played the video during her funeral this past Tuesday and I can’t be sure but I doubt there was a dry eye in the house. Personally I couldn’t watch; the tears were streaming from my eyes so much I couldn’t focus on the screen. As I sat there with head bowed listening, watching the waterfall running off my cheeks, I realized I was hearing myself sing with an angel.
At the time of the filming, I didn’t even know…but I could have said “No”.
You see, I didn’t have to spend the time sitting with Ms. Frankie in the beginning. I could have easily said I’m too busy, and that “No, sorry but can’t do it”. But I didn’t.
Like my time with Ms. Frankie, we could have easily skipped the special song that Sunday and simply said, “No, don’t think we can do that, we’re just not good enough. But we didn’t.
How many times in our lives had we had the opportunity to do something to honor God, but we found it easier to just reply, “No, sorry, can’t do that now,” so we didn’t?
As I was driving to work the night Denise contacted me to ask me if I wanted to deliver the sermon today, I began thinking to myself about what I would talk about. My first response to her was that I had to work both nights prior to that Sunday and that I had a book signing on Saturday at B&N and would barely get two hours sleep, if that. I pretty much said ‘No”, but in a round-about way. She replied that was ok, she understood. But then as I continued to drive to work, God began to work on me. The scripture from Ephesians came to mind: “Be very careful then how you live, for the days are evil. Make the most of every opportunity.’
The story about Ms. Frankie had been bugging me all week and the fact that I had put off writing it down until now had kept nagging at me until I just about couldn’t take it any longer. You know, that voice that keeps saying to yourself, “When are you going to do it?” Sometimes God can be more demanding than my dear wife with an overdue to-do list. So I began thinking about Ms. Frankie and the fact that I had heard myself singing with an angel, and the question came to me, “How many of us could even recognize an Angel if we were in the same room with one?”
As I drove up 540 toward work, with the question still on my mind, a car drove past me with the license plate that read, “Don’t “No””.
I nearly choked.
At the next traffic light, I messaged Denise back that I would do the sermon since God had just given me one.
“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” – Hebrews 13:2
But it goes beyond that, beyond being able to recognize and Angel in our midst. It goes beyond being able to recognize a Heaven sent sunset. It goes beyond realizing that the newborn child in your arms is the face of God.
The words “know” and “no” are Homonyms; words that sound the same but have different meaning. When I hear homonym it makes me think of an egotistical grit, one who’s head swelled so much even his friends don’t know who he is….but then that would be hominy.
Back to the work “know”
We don’t know:
- The future of Cumnock United Methodist Church
- How the bypass will affect the town
- Then new preacher at Goldston
- The Fracking underneath us
- Will there be new subdivisions pop up from the bypass?
You see, if would put our hope in the world and not in faith, then the unknown becomes scary. There are so many unknowns that we could quickly become overwhelmed and become frozen with fear.
We can’t Know everything.
Yet, we must continue to move on, putting our faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.
You see, before we can “know” Him, we have to stop saying “No” to Him.
No matter how many times we say “No” he eventually finds a way for us to “Know” him more. To know him is in a sense to be exposed to him, here then the scripture:
“13 But all things that are exposed are made manifest by the light, for whatever makes manifest is light. 14 Therefore He says:
“Awake, you who sleep, Arise from the dead, And Christ will give you light.”
15 See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, 16 redeeming the time, because the days are evil.” Eph 5:13-15
A couple years ago I set out on a journey I had never expected to make. I accepted Christ into my life when I was thirteen, but it was only when I decided to trust in him for everything that the real journey began.
I was in a sense; rising from the dead…Christ was beginning to show me the light.
Eventually I found myself writing a book about a people that not only typified the embodiment of Christ, but also lived Apostelitic lifestyles; amazingly enough, they were my ancestors.
Not only did they keep the Word of God alive for centuries by memorizing it and verbally passing it down from one generation to the next, but they also eventually evangelized to the world, which was against the law of man at that time.
You see, they didn’t live by man’s laws, but rather, they lived by the Word of God. They felt their obligation to faith was to God, not to man.
However, today, do we not find the rules and regulations of the church so daunting, so demanding that at times it clouds the reason for why we even come to these respective institutions to start with? Has man once again placed so many barriers to what God had intended that we are losing sight of what is most important.
Let’s not forget verse 15:
15 See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, 16 redeeming the time, because the days are evil.”
Satan waits for us to begin questioning our faith, he waits for us to falter and lose sight of what are faith is about. He relishes in our despair and encourages us to stray. He waits for us to become so overwhelmed with the fear of the unknown that we start to accept the lies he tells us.
Other times, we can be a stubborn as an old mule, of which I am guilty as well. Being stubborn and refusing to accept what God asks of us allows Satan to step in and take control.
Satan wishes nothing more than for us to allow him to control our lives.
Sometimes we find animals that seem to embody that very attitude.
There was this farmer named Virgil who once had a mule who he just knew was possessed by the devil himself. One bright spring day, after having returned from town, Virgil put on his new coat and climbed atop his Farm-All A model tractor and happily began tilling up his garden. Not long into his task he realized he had not eaten dinner, so climbing down from the tractor, he took off his coat and placed it on a lever on the side. He knew he wouldn’t need the coat inside the house and besides, it was warming up to be a nice day. Once inside, while sitting at the kitchen table while looking out upon the barn yard, Virgil saw that mean old mule come from behind the barn and walk toward the tractor. For lack of nothing else better to do, Virgil and his son continued to watch the demonic mule as it walked up to the tractor, sniffed Virgil’s coat, then suddenly grabbed the coat and 
took off running behind the barn. Virgil was so mad, he jumped up from the table and took out after the mule, with his son in tow. They found the old mule behind the barn with the coat still clinched tight by his teeth. They chased that honery mule around and around the barn lot until they were so tuckered out, all they could do was stand with their hands on their hips panting for their breathes. As they stood there winded and exhausted, the old mule walked up before them, a few safe paces away, and dropped the coat on the ground. Virgil took a step toward the coat to pick it up but before he could retrieve his new jacket, the mule stepped on it with a heavy hoof, then with his teeth, reached down and grabbed the edge of the jacket and gave it a mighty yank, ripping Virgil’s brand new coat in half.
Had Virgil not been a God fearing man, the mule would have died that day.
But unlike animals, we and Virgil honor our Father in Heaven by adhering to his Word.
“To know God is to Love God.”
Like those ancient Waldensians, they knew the Word of God and knew that they had to answer to a higher authority than man. At that time, the laws of man condemned owning a Bible or evangelizing the Word of God. Someone found guilty of either was either imprisoned or more often that naught, put to death.
To avoid capture and death, they would hide the written Word in loaves of bread, which they would give to persons to whom they had witnessed. This way, once the Waldensians had departed, their hosts could consume the bread and still have the Word of God to continue to live by.
I try to continue on their legacy in some small way, by telling their story through my writing and speaking. Another part of my ministry is that I also try to continue to spread the written Word; the Bible.
A couple weeks ago I brought several loaves of Ms. Tina’s bread for you. With each loaf you should have found the gospel of John. But today, like those disciples so long ago found, the bread of life, the body of Christ, are perishable. They don’t last forever. Hopefully you ate your bread or shared it with someone who ate it. But like the gift those ancient Waldensians left for their hosts, long after the bread or body was gone, the Word lived on.
Today, we will once again experience receiving the body and blood of Christ through the communion. This will be a special communion for us today, since this will be Linda’s first official communion having recently received her licensing. She will be able to “officially” share the body and blood of Christ with us. Although the physical nature of the act is obvious, we must not forget that it is meant to signify the sacrifice Christ made for our sins and that like the bread and wine, long after they are gone, the spirit within us will live on.
You see, it’s through the Word that we can also receive the spirit. Once we accept the spirit of God into our lives, then we can once again make that spirit a reality; a reality in how we walk each day with Christ.
With the Word, we can become one with the spirit and we can know him.
As Jesus told his disciples:
Luke 24: 36-53 Now as they said these things, Jesus Himself stood in the midst of them, and said to them, “Peace to you.” 37 But they were terrified and frightened, and supposed they had seen a spirit. 38 And He said to them, “Why are you troubled? And why do doubts arise in your hearts? 39 Behold My hands and My feet, that it is I Myself. Handle Me and see, for a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see I have.”
40 When He had said this, He showed them His hands and His feet.[f] 41 But while they still did not believe for joy, and marveled, He said to them, “Have you any food here?” 42 So they gave Him a piece of a broiled fish and some honeycomb.[g] 43 And He took it and ate in their presence.
Then He said to them, “These are the words which I spoke to you while I was still with you, that all things must be fulfilled which were written in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms concerning Me.” 45 And He opened their understanding, that they might comprehend the Scriptures.
46 Then He said to them, “Thus it is written, and thus it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise[h] from the dead the third day, 47 and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. 48 And you are witnesses of these things. 49 Behold, I send the Promise of My Father upon you; but tarry in the city of Jerusalem[i] until you are endued with power from on high.”
50 And He led them out as far as Bethany, and He lifted up His hands and blessed them. 51 Now it came to pass, while He blessed them, that He was parted from them and carried up into heaven. 52 And they worshiped Him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, 53 and were continually in the temple praising and[j] blessing God. Amen.[k]
How can you NOT get excited about that!!!
How can we even stand to sit still when God tells us point blank, to know Him until you are endued with the power from on high!!….AMEN!!!
The disciples were guilty as we are today of ignoring the obvious.
Do you know him?
We go through our world, not knowing if there are Angels in our midst, not knowing the sunset before us is Heaven sent, not seeing the face of God in the newborns smile.
You see, before we can “know” Him, we have to stop saying “No” to Him.
We must learn to say to ourselves,
“Don’t say no to know,” or in short…. “Don’t No.”
Filed under Inspirational, Religion, Religious Experience
JAM Camp 2013 is almost here…..are you ready?
I have to admit, I have been remiss in my blogging as of late, but there is a very good reason.
We are deep into the preparations for JAM Camp 2013.
This year’s camp will be bigger and hopefully even better than last year’s. In addition to the great morning instrument classes (which includes lessons in guitar, fiddle, banjo, mandolin and mountain dulcimer with a host of great teachers) we are creating more afternoon activities; meanwhile, keeping the popular ones from last year.
This year, in addition to campers making their own biscuits, they will also learn how to make the preserves to put on their biscuits as well. Joan Thompson from the Siler City Farmer’s Market will teach the preserve making class and Bill and Sims Poindexter will lead the biscuit baking class.
Everyone enjoyed the pottery class last year, so this year we plan to do it again. We plan to add to our pottery experience with Jon Spoon, the Director of the NC Arts Incubator, leading the workshop. We hope to have a JAM Camp 2013 tile for everyone to take home by the end of the week.
We are excited to have Sue Wilson back for a second year. She will hold another workshop in Hammered Dulcimer, which we didn’t seem to get enough of last year. In addition to Hammered Dulcimer, we will also be offering a build-your-own Mountain Dulcimer workshop hosted by Emily Schilling, who is also our Mountain Dulcimer teacher. In this class you will build and decorate your own Dulcimer.
Also back by popular demand is Kathy Schilling and her clogging class. Kathy, a multi-award winning dancer, will be leading afternoon dance workshops in clogging. Kathy will also hold classes on how to square dance, which will be very useful at the Friday Night Barn Dance.
We are adding some new afternoon opportunities with a Native American themed activity by first building a Tepee, which we will then let the campers decorate. Along with the Tepee we will create a sundial, nature boat float and an Orienteering course. Other artistic endeavors somewhat Native American themed, will be focused on a Giant Weaving and Mural project and Jug decorations.
We will once again hold our Jug Band class on Friday, where our students will learn or be reminded of how to play the jugs they decorated earlier in the week along with the art of Kazoo. Last year, Julie Brown, Emily Schilling and myself led this class for the first time. I think we laughed more than we played music, but we found out the beauty of performing while playing a Kazoo…for sure!!! I also found out that playing a jug required a lot more air than I had anticipated, nearly passing out the first time I tried. Needless to say, we now make sure our students know the hazards of too much jug plaing. In addition to the jug, each student will get their own kazoo to play. We will perform a Jug Band song at the Friday Barn Dance show as part of the evening’s pre-Dance entertainment. Along with the Jug Band performance our students will be invited to come up and perform what they’ve learned during camp; you will not want to miss this.
Along with Jug Band class, other afternoon singing and song writing classes will be held again with Laura Thurston leading our folk singing class and Sarah Osborne hosting our song writing workshop. In addition, Jr. Counselors, Abbey Buchanon and Chloe Lang will lead a Taylor Swift song-sing-a-long session slanted more toward the Old Time/Bluegrass sound of her music.
Along with all the learning there will be lots of physical activity with the return of the ever popular 100 ft. water slide. We will add additional water games throughout the week along with various other games and activities. Zach Tomlinson will host a jump rope workshop. You have to see him in action to believe it…a double-dutch master.
Our story teller this year will be Claire Ramsey. We look forward to hearing Claire weave her tales as no one else can. In Claire’s own words, “Therefore, my first wish as a storyteller is to bring all my listeners — children, teens, and adults — to that place where they remember their first stories… where they find themselves again at their parents’, grandparents’, or babysitters’ knees, pictures filling their minds and hearts. Whoever you are, however old you are, Stories With Claire have moments of joy, excitement, and peace for you.”
We are happy to announce our visiting performer this year is Chatham County’s own iconic treasure, Tommy Edwards. Tommy will be visiting us on Wednesday afternoon starting at 2:00 PM. We look forward to hearing Tommy speak and perform for our campers; he always has lots of inspirational words of wisdom to share and beautiful music as well.
The backdrop for the JAM Camp 2013 is the wonderfully restored Silk Hope Farm Heritage Park and the beautiful Silk Hope countryside. Along with this beauty we plan to include some farm related activities and learning experiences similar to last years. Farming is a dynamic lifestyle where weather always plays a major factor. So we never know for sure what activity we will be able to promote until closer to the time of the camp but we promise it will be something all the children will enjoy.
In all, this year promises to be bigger and better with a lot of learning with a whole lot of fun thrown in. If you haven’t registered it’s still not too late to do so.
For more information and to register go online to www.ChamJAM.org/SummerCamp2013.php
Trains Blowin’ in the Wind…
I have no idea where I was, other than there being green grass on a hillside that dropped off into a valley below. I was there to preach a sermon to a people, yet I had seen nobody. All around me there were what appeared to be white sheets hanging down from the sky, as if there were a huge clothesline in the heavens hanging their laundry out to dry. I searched for someplace secluded that I could change out of my overalls into my suit, so I could prepare for today’s preaching. I was doing like my good friend, Pastor Johnson had suggested and dress up. So today, I actually brought a suit to wear for today’s ministering.
I found a little building setting off to one side, away from the expanse of white cloth that was gently swaying in the breeze. There was a tiny bathroom in the building, and once inside I realized it was so disgustingly filthy that I was afraid to lay anything down, which made changing all that much more difficult. There was no sink in the room, just the toilet. The toilet was the institutional type, so there was no tank or lid where one could place belongings upon. Changing in here would be liability if nothing else, but I continued on. I eventually succeeded and re-emerged from the glorified outhouse to still find the sheets wafting gently over the green vista before me. The clean air made me quickly forget the filth I had just experienced and I walked through the sweet smelling sheets, reaching out and feeling their freshness as I walked passed. Somehow, touching them made me feel whole and gave me great comfort.
I awoke from the dream, only having acquired half of the sleep I needed for the day, but was somehow refreshed. I wrote down what I had seen just then, but didn’t understand it or what it meant; if anything. I figured I’d give it some time and if it was important, God would reveal it to me.
Sunday we were sitting in our class, preparing for the lesson. The class was speaking about concerns for the members and while they were doing so I looked over my neighbors shoulder to find out what scripture was being covered in today’s lesson. I had missed several weeks and didn’t have the new study guide. I found Isaiah 6:1-8 posted on her weekly study guide, so I silently turned to it and began reading it while the class continued on with their discussions.
At first the Seraphim stood out, with its six wings. I looked up what a Seraphim was while the class was now beginning to read the scripture out loud. As they did I was still listening when I too turned back to the scripture to read along. It was then I heard the words, “In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filled the temple.”
“The train of his robe,” I thought to myself, then about that time somebody or a voice said out loud, “That would look like sheets hanging down from the sky.” I nearly fell out of my chair. I had my journal with me and turned to the page from last Thursday to see what I drew, and there it was; the picture of the sheets hanging down from the Heavens.
I then feverishly read all of the scripture again, pretty much losing track of where and what the class was discussing until I overheard the teacher ask if anyone had ever had visions. One of my dear friends, Laverne Thornton, looked over at me and then pointing in my direction said,”Tim seems to have them quite often.”
“Well, now that you mention it, I was just finding that today’s lesson revealed to me what I had seen last Thursday,” I said as I opened my journal to the drawing. I then explained my vision to the class, and explained to them at the time I had no idea what it meant; not until today. We passed the drawing around for everyone to see. I told them it was giving me chill bumps just thinking about it, because it was still sinking in.
Laverne replied with his usual humorous quip, “I still have that referral to a psychiatrist that I need to get to you.’
We continued following the scripture, but I jumped ahead to the end and saw the final words, “Here I am, Send Me.” I realize that somehow, I had been in God’s throne room, while the train of his robe blew about me. Was I there to receive my orders? Unbeknownst to me the Word of God reached out to me once more when,
“I heard the voice of the Lord, saying:
“Whom shall I send,
And who will go for Us?”
Then it struck me again, “Here I am, Send Me.”
What else can I say?
Now to find those Seraphim.
—————————————————————————————————————–
“In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filled the temple. 2 Above it stood seraphim; each one had six wings: with two he covered his face, with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. 3 And one cried to another and said:
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;
The whole earth is full of His glory!”
4 And the posts of the door were shaken by the voice of him who cried out, and the house was filled with smoke.
5 So I said:
“Woe is me, for I am undone!
Because I am a man of unclean lips,
And I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips;
For my eyes have seen the King,
The Lord of hosts.”
6 Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a live coal which he had taken with the tongs from the altar. 7 And he touched my mouth with it, and said:
“Behold, this has touched your lips;
Your iniquity is taken away,
And your sin purged.”
8 Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying:
“Whom shall I send,
And who will go for Us?”
Then I said, “Here am I! Send me.”- Isaiah 6:1-8
Filed under Inspirational, Religious Experience, Visions
Late Bloomer…
We were driving home tonight from Chatham Charter’s annual Athletic and Academics banquet when I was explaining to my daughter about how someday, she might be asked to lead others. If were to rely on our ancestral history as a guide, then it would be expected. I tried to convey to her that it may be years before she finally realizes her abilities to lead; I know I myself was a late bloomer in that regard.
That’s when it hit me; our similarities in life to the Kousa Dogwood, or more commonly known in our area, the Japanese Dogwood. The Kousa is a small deciduous flowering tree, a distant relative to our own Eastern Dogwood, which is indigenous to this area. However, unlike our local variety, the Kousa blooms nearly a month later; a late bloomer of sorts.
We always knew that when the Dogwood’s bloomed, it was about time for the fish to start biting. One of the first events in life that made me realize I had the potential to lead was fishing. You see, up to a certain point in my life, I always relied upon an adult to take me fishing. It was something that I never really gave much though too, but looking back, I understand my dependence upon others at that time and how fishing only exemplified that need. We never had a pond nearby that I could just grab a pole and go off too on my own. We usually had to travel to the nearest watering hole. Now, mind you, we grew up nearly on the banks of the Wabash River, but we were never allowed to venture near the river alone. There were too many tragedies to count from this sometimes treacherous confluence that flowed past our small town in southern Indiana.
It wasn’t until my last Boy Scout summer camp that I finally had the opportunity to go fishing without an adult. I don’t recall the other youth’s name who went with me, but since we weren’t allowed to go out in a boat alone at camp, I had another Boy Scout as a companion. I had recently learned how to row and was more or less practicing my new found skill, while taking the opportunity to wet a line. Once out on the open water, I remember feeling a sense of freedom and control I had never known before. The other boy and I made our way all around the lake that summer, becoming quite the fishing pair. I caught my first Crappy in that lake. Funny the things you remember.
From that summer on, I found I no longer needed an adult to take me fishing, but rather, I sometimes wound up taking others fishing with me instead. More often than naught, I went alone, learning my independence along the way. There were times that I would load a twelve foot long john boat into the trunk of my 74 Ford Torino, wedging the end in so that its weight kept it from bouncing out; that must have been a sight going down the gravel road. I would take the boat to stripper pits where I would sometimes drag it several yards to launch it into some remote body of water that appeared as if they had been untouched by man or rod since their creation. These were all man made bodies of water left over from the coal strip mining in our area. They were never stocked but only had in them what the good Lord provided. It was on these crystal clear bodies of desolate water I found peace in solitude; being alone somehow made me feel closer to God.
As years went by, I eventually found the day I was able to take my own children fishing. There are few joys that compare to watching a child catch their first fish. My daughter seemed to be a natural. Her patience for sitting and waiting were well beyond her years, and her expected temperament. She now often goes fishing on her own on our farm in one of our three ponds. If she’s not fishing then she is out riding her dear pony Sugar. Her independence at such an early age is sometimes breathtaking.
As we drove home from the banquet, I realized my daughter might not show her leadership skills openly but she was already far ahead of where I was at her age; in this respect I can take comfort. My daughter is already a different type of leader than I had ever imagined. Where and how far she goes with it only Heaven knows.
We might be like the Kousa Dogwood when it comes to openly leading others, but hopefully when we finally do blossom; it is something that honors God. At least for us, it’s our ancestral obligation. For if we do nothing else, hopefully we can honor the Glory of God through all that he has given.
In this I pray, Amen.
Filed under Inspirational, Nature, Religion
Book Signing Today, B&N in High Point NC. Saturday, May 25th, 1:00 – 3:00 PM
Come join us today at the Barnes & Noble Booksellers in High Point North Carolina. We will have live music with Emily Schilling on Lap Dulcimer and the Tron Family Band performing along with signed copies of my book, “Bruecke to Heaven“.
Be one of the first seven customers and get a free loaf of “Faith Bread”, which has a special gift inside that keeps on giving.
Join us and become one with the journey; Let the Light Shine in the Darkness.
Filed under Music, Uncategorized, Writing