Category Archives: Inspirational

by | April 18, 2017 · 10:14 pm

A Sunrise, An Easter, A Moment in Time…

Behind Floyd, which was how he had introduced himself to me, the sun began to cast its light upon the ball field. We sat under the shelter of the Athletic Park in Collettsville, not yet squinting, but rather listening intently to the words of the man before us. Pastor Floyd shared with us his past having ministered to many from behind the pulpit at the Berea Advent Christian Church, just across the river. He chuckled to think that probably half of Lenoir had been Baptized in that little river that flowed near where we sat. Behind us, the mountains rose like a giant backdrop to the scene below. The soft golden glow of the sun’s rays were just beginning to melt away the darkness of the night before on those lofty peaks. A few yards away, the echoes of the John’s River could be heard whispering through the trees, its watery pathway unabated, ever flowing. The weathered preacher’s voice had the sound of those old-timey stump evangelists who would travel their circuits, riding on horseback from one little country Church to the next. A twangy drawl with the hint of a nasal pitch that could easily wield the tenor’s spot in the choir. They would draw out certain syllables in order to make the phrase or point more poignant. Their sermons developed a melody of their own as they delivered God’s Word from one hollar to the next. They not only carried the Word of the Lord, but with them traveled the news of the day and the hope of a better tomorrow. It was a combination of two but separate worlds into one. The intertwining of mankind with the earth around us seemed fitting for this Easter morning; our Sunrise Service.

All around us, nature was waking up, acknowledging God’s call to rise. The birds sang in a chorus as the clear blue sky above seemed to ring out the peacefulness of the coming dawn. A slight chill in the air began to sink into one’s being causing one after another to reach for their jacket or sweater, pulling them a little closer around their necks. There was no breeze. The air was still, like the pause before the expectant event, the calm before the storm. His breath steamed in little puffs from his lips as he spoke. My mind drifted over the scriptures he preached about and from one to another, the thoughts seemed to settle. Again, and again, the words scorned the thought of those that would not believe. As we sat and welcomed the chastisement of those who refused to accept that Christ had risen, one couldn’t help to understand how so many, including those early believers had to accept the miracle that took place. For to believe, is to believe in the miracle of the risen Christ. Just as he had prophesized, and like so many before Him, all who had told of the coming Messiah. Yet, there would be those that would not accept his resurrection. So it is today.

Sometimes miracles are too improbable to accept. There must be a law that has been broken, an imparting of the natural, a suspension of belief, for if it were not so, then what has occurred should never have happened; a stone rolled away when it shouldn’t have been, the vision of the risen Christ before a multitude of people.

Yes, the empty tomb is just the beginning of our story.

As the pastor concluded his service, the sunshine began to reach through the trees in bright rays that still had not broken through the sleepy mist that shrouded the world around us. Its muted beams of light glowed upon all the faces around me, erasing age, and time. I paused in my breath as before me, the aged were anew, the affirmed were young once more, and there was no more sickness or sorrow. For a moment, as the break of dawn could be heard across that little valley, there was Heaven on earth.

A sparrow flew past, breaking the spell, and an Amen was spoken by all.

There are moments in time that one seldom dwells upon, but then there are those that one may never forget.

He is Risen, He is Risen Indeed.

Thanks be to God.

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by | April 15, 2017 · 5:58 pm

The Last Piece of Bread…

“30 Now it came to pass, as He sat at the table with them, that He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished from their sight.”-Luke 24:30

Sometimes we find ourselves rushing through this world, missing the blessings that exist before our very eyes. Then sometimes, we are lucky enough to catch that glimpse of something that appears to us which we seemingly cannot believe.

This past Thursday evening, I had just finished a day of testing my students in the last unit before Spring Break. The next day at school would be filled with fun activities that required very little in preparation. Outside the window, the sunshine and blue skies had beckoned all the day long. When my car finally pulled into our driveway, and I opened the door, the fresh air and sound of the woods enveloped me. There was something calling me. So as quickly as I could eat a bite, I found my walking stick, hat, and hiking shoes and set out the back door into the forest beyond.

My anticipation quickened my heartbeat matching those of my footsteps below.

When Mary reported back to the disciples that she had seen something at the tomb, Peter and John rushed out the door, their hearts beating nearly out of their chests. Their minds were ablaze with the impossibility; was He truly alive? Could Mary have been seeing things? Her fervent testimony left no doubt, so they ran onward. Their anticipation drove them faster. As they raced, memories of His teaching drifted back into their consciousness.

As my footsteps traveled along the cool, shadowed pathway, my mind wandered back to the previous week where a walk like this was a strain. I had been fighting a serious head cold, and it was nearly all I could do then to walk the new trail my friend Leroy wanted to show me. It was a wonderful walk along a continual waterfall that ran parallel to us. Opposite to the stream was a grove of Poplar trees. As we walked along, I couldn’t help trying to spy to see if there were any morels along the way. The undergrowth on the forest floor was nearly non-existent, which meant there was little hope of finding any of the precious little mushrooms during that day. From my experience hunting the elusive forest food, I knew that the lack of greenery usually meant it was too early I the season. Usually, they only grow in certain soils in particular weather just about this time each year. In other words, they are difficult to find.

Here I was a week later with the sun slowly setting. Time was running out. I hesitantly put the hopes of finding any morels this season to rest. It was more likely that it would be another year before we might be lucky enough to find them in the new area we call home; that’s just the way it would be.

John literally outran Peter, reaching the edge of the tomb. As he leaned against the round boulder that had the previous day covered the entrance to the crypt, he could smell the dampness of the inner chamber. His legs quivered with fear and excitement. “Was his Savior inside?” There was something that kept him from entering. Around the bend, he could hear the footsteps of Peter coming, yet he could not move. Was it fearing to find the brutally ravaged body of Christ that he dreaded to see once more? Was it the fear of a spirit he hastened to witness? It wasn’t until Peter rounded that curve and came into sight did his courage return.

Like so many of us that go into the world today to witness for Him, we fearfully stand outside the realm of those who need our words the most. We fall short of speaking to others the very thing they need most, the Truth. We cannot go it alone.

Onward I pushed, happy to be out in the sunshine and finally feeling more like myself. As I walked, I began lifting up prayers to God. Before long, I was being filled with his Holy Spirit. He was filling my mind with a multitude of things of which I couldn’t keep track. My cup was surely overflowing.

As the two disciples walked along the road to Emmaus, they were met with a stranger who joined them. They began speaking with him, and he opened their minds to all the scriptures. Even so doing, they did not realize it was Christ who was with them. They reached a point where they were to part with this new-found friend. Yet, so moved were they by his testimony that they kept him as the scriptures described, “But they constrained Him, saying, “Abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.” And He went in to stay with them.”

Just as their minds were overflowing with the words of Jesus, they had yet to fully realize the implications of what they were experiencing.

As my feet trod, one in front of the other, I was nearly singing His praises when I rounded the bend and began an uphill trek. Raindrops started to fall. There had been mention of a possible shower, but not today. I looked toward the distant mountain tops and saw scattered dark clouds. I hastened my footsteps yet again. As my focused changed from spirituality to the now, I realized the darkness growing about me.

Another turn, another bend, and then suddenly, there it was.

As those travelers on the road to Emmaus sat around the table with Jesus, talking and sharing, they still didn’t realize what was before them until their focus was brought to the “Here and Now,” when Jesus broke the bread. Now it came to pass, as He sat at the table with them, that He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished from their sight.”-

Once the bread was broken, their bodies, predictably hungry from their days walk, pushed aside for the moment, their amazement of what that had heard and spoke about during their miraculous journey. It was then, they suddenly realized in whose presence they were, and had been for the majority of their day.

There, in the middle of the rocky trail, barely covered by any soil, stood a single morel.

I shouted out loud, “THANK YOU LORD JESUS!”

Those seated around the table that evening, when he broke the bread and blessed it, were about to witness the unbelievable. When He handed each of them their own piece of bread, their eyes were opened as had their minds been earlier in the day. It was then they realized who He was, and in that instant, He vanished before their eyes.

Did they shout, “THANK YOU LORD JESUS?”

Did they pause as they held the very bread of which Christ had handed them?

There before me was something that grew in such a rare occurrence, it could be said to be Heaven sent. No, it was not Christ, and no, it was not something miraculous, but it was a blessing so unexpected, it took my breath away.

I hesitated before bending down to pick up the precious morsel, then looked to Heavens. The rain had paused, and a shaft of sunlight shone down through the canopy above. “Thank you, Lord, for this blessing,” I whispered out loud.  I know in my heart that at that very moment those disciples too felt the urge to call out to God and thank Him for His Son.

We are all so very blessed.

One can only imagine that moment, that very minute when those disciples were handed that piece of food, and then to have Him seated before them.

Manna was sent from God to keep His children alive as they wandered those long years through the desert. That manna became their bread of life. Jesus died for our sins, so that we may have eternal life. He became our bread of life so that we may have eternal life, if only we accept Him into our hearts. We confess with our mouths our sins we believe with our hearts. When we consume the bread of life, we are taking that which is perishable which represents that which is not, Christ.

A morel, in a way, is like manna from Heaven. It is something that we might eat, sustaining our bodies while allowing us to give thanks to Him for providing something that is so uniquely special, it can only be a gift from God.

One morel, one last piece of bread from the hand of God, each one a blessing to those who receive.

This Easter, let us be thankful for a God, who gave His Only Son so that we might have salvation and eternal life. We need only recognize Him, and accept Him into our hearts when we confess our sins.

Blessed be Thy Name,

Thanks Be to God.

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by | April 9, 2017 · 8:59 pm

The Promise of My Father…

“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.”-Luke 24:49

Nothing excites me more than when someone brings up the power of the Holy Spirit.

In my life, there has been nothing as real and as powerful as the feeling when one is endued with the power on high. It is understood that for some, this statement is only that, a statement of words that are indescribable since there is nothing for which they might perceive to compare it with. Now before I go any further, I want to reiterate with the utmost integrity, that this is not being boastful or prideful; it comes from the perspective as one awakening to a new feeling that until now, might have been missed or even overlooked. To understand what I mean, I must begin at the beginning. Then, and only then, we might come to have a basis for what it is to “Receive” the Holy Spirit.

In Jesus time, he repeatedly spoke to the disciples of how they would receive the Holy Spirit, the Helper, as he called it, who would be with them after he was gone. “But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you.”-John 14:26

Their eyes seemed to always be on the present, unable to grasp the prophecy to which Jesus was constantly alluding. Who can blame them? Here they were in the midst of the true Son of God, the Messiah, the miracle worker. Daily they witnessed the unbelievable, every day they saw gross deformities become healed, the demon possessed cleansed, and the dead arise from their deathbeds. How could they look beyond when there were so many amazing things happening right before them? It’s ironic that today, unlike those of the disciples, we are distracted by the plans of the coming day, the week ahead, the calendar, and all that must be done in the days’ time. We are so focused on what is next, we too often miss what is right before us, and this is where we begin to overlook the obvious, the miracles in our lives that appear and are gone before we take the time to reflect upon them. Unlike the disciples, we cannot focus on the present, when all we do is look ahead. They were the opposite, unable to look ahead due to what was before them.

Call it the irony of God.

What is the common thread between the two ironies; the presence of Jesus Christ of course?

When He is with us, we are relieved of our daily burdens. The future is a distant memory. Those distractions that kept us from our daily scripture slowly fade to dark as the light of the Word illuminates our hearts with the truth. Like those disciples, we have little concern for the future when all we need is here with us.

Yet, too many times, we slip in our walk of faith and fall back into that daily rut of trying to keep pace with the world around us. At this same time, we also miss the opportunity to accept and to recognize when we are in the presence of the Holy Spirit. We rush from one appointment, one event to the next and miss what often matters most. In these precious moments, we too often fail to accept the power from on high. When, and only when, our minds are one with God, can we fully embrace and receive Him. It is then when we are still and listening to that small voice, are we suddenly flooded from head to toe with a power so incredible, so electrifying, that one can barely keep their feet upon the very ground upon which they trod. It is then when we are overflowing with the Spirit that we find ourselves at a new and higher ground in our spiritual walk with God; greater than ever before.

Yet, this is not just something we can call upon, for it to happen. It is a power from on high, and as such, is only Heaven sent. That’s why Jesus told his disciples to go to Jerusalem and wait; wait for the Holy Spirit. They were instructed to call upon the Spirit, but to wait. Although their eyes had been opened to the scriptures, they still were required to wait for the Spirit.

One can have all the knowledge, knowing, and understanding of the entire Biblical encyclopedia but without the Holy Spirit, it is just that, only knowledge. The true power to go and do His will is when the two are combined as one: The Holy Spirit with the mind of the disciple. This is what Jesus had prepared his followers for once he was gone. He knew that without the Helper, they would be fearful of what they did not know, they would be hesitant to journey to those distant lands; therefore, they needed something that was greater than they were capable of conceiving, the Holy Spirit.

Walking with Jesus each day, we now have Him within us, as we carry the Word. With our understanding comes wisdom. Yet, it only takes us so far, we must also wait for that Spirit to be endued within each of us, lest we fall and stumble before we are ready to set out on our mission.

So now we are ready to speak of what it is to receive the Holy Spirit.

As we continue our daily walk in faith, we learn more and more about what it is to be a Christian or Christ-like. When we do, journey in our faith, we slowly awaken or become aware of things we might have overlooked that we now understand. Scriptures we once read as a matter-of-fact take on new meanings. The world around us becomes brighter, for in everything we see, we the Creator’s hand. Our senses become heightened to new realities we never understood. One of these is when we are filled with the Holy Spirit; whether we believe it or not.

Now for some, the realization, or the indwelling of the Spirit comes as a shock. For them, it is an instantaneous blast of heavenly power that is absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt, the Holy Spirit. Sometimes these people, in that moment of receiving the Spirit, lose their conscious minds and fall to the floor. In these cases, there is no mistaking when that person has received the Holy Spirit. I’ve witnessed these before and just to be there in their presence is as powerful as their receiving; it is a moving and emotional experience for all.

Then there are the subtler occasions when we have only been induced from without by the power so subtlety that one might mistake it for a chill, rather than the Spirit. Those moments when we see the unexplainable, like the light from spirits moving before a camera when there were just seconds before and saw nothing. Or the time when someone spoke a word, then the door blew open and a cold breeze wisped across your feet. Or the time when you felt the hand upon your shoulder pull you back, just as you were about to step off the curb just as the out of control car blew passed where you were about to step. When you turned to thank them, there was nobody there. These are the events that might escape our perception if we are not one with Him. Many explain them away as mere coincidence while others bring in the pagan beliefs of ghosts or hauntings. The realization of the truth escapes them. It is not until they call on His name, do they start to realize what it is to be overcome with the Spirit.

In time, we eventually awaken to the Holy Spirit. It is then, in those rare moments when we finally recognize that surge of voltage through our core, that shakes the nerve endings into a tingling sensation that almost lift us off the floor; these are the God knowing moments when your world changes forever; the enduing. Those who have felt it sometimes cannot explain it. Like Ezekiel trying to explain what he couldn’t understand in the vision of the Heavenly being, there are God things that are beyond our comprehension. We only can explain what we know, and in that manner, our words are sometimes not enough.

Many have felt the presence of the Lord, and in various forms. Their stories are a testimony to the power of believing.

A good friend and brother in Christ, Doug Stuart, experienced the power of the Spirit at a time when he needed it the most; his mother’s funeral. Doug was preparing to sing and speak at her service when he was suddenly overcome with doubt and fear. I’ve known Doug for several years, and to hear him say that he would be unable to speak or to perform would be unbelievable, yet there he was, moments away from failing his mother’s dying wishes. At that moment, he knew there was only one thing he could do; to pray to God for strength. It was then he described what it was to feel the power of the Holy Spirit come over him, like a gentle warmth of the Heavenly Father, wrapping him in love, lifting him up and giving him the strength to carry on. Yes, God was with my friend, and within my brother. He not only sang but spoke at length of his mother’s wonderful life. The son testifying for his mother, a love known like no other.

My cousin Davetta got the phone call from her mother telling her that my father had awakened out of the coma he had fallen within during one of the later hospital visits in his life. I remember that day as well. It was a miracle in and of itself. The doctors had said that they should call the family in since the end was near. Davetta said that she felt the power of the Holy Spirit come over her after that phone call. She remained lifted up from that feeling for the remainder of the day. The same thing happened when her Aunt had the same experience, she once again was endued from on high and was renewed with a feeling of Spirit so great that it literally changed each of those days in her life. She was blessed each time by the hand of the Lord.

Personally, I had felt the power of the Spirit before, but it was something that I didn’t understand or able to recognize. It wasn’t until I openly committed my life to following the Lord that I became aware of when the Spirit was with me. It started when I was serving at the Trail of Faith. Again, and again, there would be the tour where we would be witnessing about the story of the Waldensian people, when suddenly, never at the same place, never at the same time in the tour, the power of the Holy Spirit would come down upon myself and those around me. It wasn’t something that I singularly felt because those before me would speak, shout, or sometimes cry with joy. It was an utterly rapturous experience, time and time again. There was one tour in particular that I will never forget. Pastor Rick was there with his wife and a friend. We started out early that day because the visitor had to be heading back to Michigan. Something about the tour was different from the start. We began the tour at the map inside the Visitor’s Center, which was not uncommon. For special guests or tours, we often would begin the tour with a prayer. That day, the Holy Spirit came on us immediately. We continued feeling blessed already, but it wasn’t the end of the story. Sporadically as we made our way down the trail we would stop and pray, each time, once again, the Spirit came down. Each time it happened, the power grew greater. The final time, we stopped in the parking lot as they were about to depart and said a final prayer. It was then I felt as if I were being lifted off the ground, so great was the electric surge through my body. The hands of those I held could feel it through me as well. It was something to behold, and something that I’ll never soon forget.

However, this was not to be the last. God’s plan was not yet finished.

Before I knew it, the place I thought was to be the fulfillment of my calling turned out to be just a stepping stone.

Whenever, and wherever God leads, once you begin the journey, you must go. No matter the circumstance, no matter the location, there is purpose in everything we do.

So, when they day came that I found myself employed part-time at the Ski Slope in Blowing Rock, I had to shake my head in bewilderment. Somewhere in that place, there was a purpose for my being there other than to pay for affordable ski lift tickets for my children. Within a few hours of my second day, the purpose was unveiled, and eventually, I would find a brother in Christ in need. Week after week, we came to know one another and in that time, when we would spend extended lunch session studying scripture, there He was once more with us. In that dimly lit corner of the ski lodge, brother’s in arms became united in spirit, being filled from on high by the one true Spirit. We found purpose and another brother found his calling. More than once as we witnessed to each other, and soon, those around us, we both felt the power of the Holy Spirit moving in the one of the most unlikeliest of places.

In my journey, there is one thing I have discovered. You may never know when and where it will happen, but one thing is for sure, to witness to others is one of the best ways to make it happen.

As one of the last final commands by Jesus to his disciples was to fulfill the great commission, to go unto all foreign lands after having been endued with the Holy Spirit, making disciples for Christ. “But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be witnesses to Me in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” – Acts 1:8

We too, are to go out into the world once we have truly received Christ into our hearts, and having been filled with the Holy Spirit. It is our purpose and our calling as Christians to go and witness the wondrous truth of God’s love and the victory we have over death when we follow the one who died for all our sins.

We have a choice. Allow the Holy Spirit to fill you to overflowing, and when you have received, go forth and share.

You’ll never look back.

Thanks be to God.

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by | March 30, 2017 · 9:13 pm

The River Weeps for Chris and Cody…

“Surely He has borne our griefs And carried our sorrows; Yet we esteemed Him stricken, Smitten by God, and afflicted..” -Isaiah 53:4

The shadows had long since cast their demeanor upon the ground. The remnants of twilight barely lit the sky above. Before me, the water swirled in eddies as it flowed past where I stood on the bank of the small river. Upstream from where I watched, voices of the rocks speaking through the rippling currents rose into the air, joining the chorus of peepers that spoke of the coming spring. The woods stood silent, their grasp upon the mountain beyond the distant shore stood high above, towering over me like a skyscraper, but not of a man’s hand, but of God’s.

Moments before, the long line of cars had throttled past the church behind where I now stood. They were members of the entourage who had attended the funeral of the two firemen, father and son, Chris and Cody Gragg, who perished in the fiery crash just days before; lives gone in the blink of an eye.

I paused from the day’s events to focus on that moment in time and all that we had to reflect upon in our lives. The very breath we breathe to the loved ones who surround us, we seldom stop and listen to the sounds of life around us. The motorcade’s rumble lasted for more than the time it took to carry three miles of vehicles around the curvy roadway of the mountain trail. The echoes of those cars following the valley beyond slowly fade. The memories of the father and son may fade with time, but their time on earth was as real as the moments they shared with those around them. Those memories become one with their keepers, intertwining into their own lives, becoming one in the same. To their loved ones, theirs will be an emptiness that can never be replaced.

Our faith keeps us going when the darkness seems to creep too close.

The blessings surround us everywhere we look if we only take the time to notice.

The flags hung in sorrow at half-mast in the tiny town of Collettsville, heavy with grief of loss. One can only hope that their servitude to the community was just a reflection of the men within, for if that were so, a far greater glory awaits them on the other side. I did not know them, but even so, when pillars of a tiny village like ours leave this world, the vacuum that is left is felt by all; and so it is.

Like those disciples, after Christ had been buried in the tomb, in the hours of darkness before the Resurrection, their greatest fears seemed to have been fulfilled. Yet, it was not to be the end of the story. Christ would be the victor over death. He had borne all their griefs and sorrows to the grave, but the grave would not hold Him. It was not the end of the story.

This is certainly not the end of this one either.

God has a purpose in all that we do, and all that we see through Him, and so it is.

The river gently weeps in sorrow as the night birds join the somber chorus. God’s creation singing praises to His name.

Time marches on, and life continues as darkness unfolds.

Tomorrow is another day.

Thanks be to God.

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by | March 26, 2017 · 8:17 pm

Truth Led by the Spirit…

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, And whose hope is the Lord. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, Which spreads out its roots by the river, And will not fear when heat comes; But its leaf will be green, And will not be anxious in the year of drought, Nor will cease from yielding fruit.”-Jeremiah 17:7-8

There is no day now that I do not realize the blessings set before me.

What I have found is that,… I am not alone.

As my journey leads me through this new world of education, I’m finding there are many like myself; searching for our purpose in a place we never envisioned ourselves working. We have been placed somewhere where we often admired those that served in the capacity of teacher or educator but never saw ourselves as stepping into that role; not until now. Again and again, there are reassurances that in everything we do, no matter the scale of the task, there is purpose in all that we do when we walk in faith. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, evidence of things unseen,” Hebrews 11:1 tells us. We do not have to see what we have to know we have faith. Each day, as we stand before the multitude of the young people, we can feel a thousand eyes fixed upon us, the minds waiting for instruction, listening to everything that is spoken, every action that is made whether it be purposeful or happen chance. In all that we do, we are leading even when we fail to speak a word. In all that we do, there is purpose.

A good friend and retired pastor, Barry Mahorney, sent me a link to an excellent documentary titled, “Lineage.” In at least three of the episodes, they share the story of the people of the valleys, the Waldensians. Due to circumstances beyond my control, for I had succumbed to following wherever the Lord leads, and as such, my schedule was overflowing with blessings so that I only recently was finally able to watch the long-sought video. What I saw had an impact upon me that was mind numbing.

There was a gripping force upon my soul that would not release my thoughts until I began to try to put them in words. Yet, there was too much emotion to try to capture with pen and paper.

When I attempt to conceptualize what might happen when I reach that far distant land, emotions begin to overtake me. There is almost a perceptible whisper that beckons to call me close, a voice that will speak to me from those granite walls of those hallowed caves. The sheer magnitude of what lies beyond and in that place will certainly be life-changing, this much I know. Yet, there was an immediate takeaway that nearly left me breathless. The host of the show pointed out that those Waldensians of old not only went out, as God had commanded the original disciples to do, to witness to the world, but they purposely went out to other places of education in order to purposely share the gospels, whether they were permitted to do so or not. In other words, their actions were more than just evangelizing, they were purposely infiltrating the darkness with the light, the Word of God.

It was at that moment that I could see how and what my purpose had become.

As I’ve told many, when I began writing the first book, “Bruecke to Heaven,” it started as a place that I would go to in my writing, a “There,” if you will. The “Here” was where I lived in the real world. However, with time, after I answered my calling, the line between “There” and “Here” began to blur. As each footstep took me down the path of God’s purpose, it seemed more and more as if I was becoming part of the book; yes, I was truly becoming one with my ancestors. It was then the unfathomable thought surfaced, I was finally there, on the mountain, teaching others and once more serving a purpose that had been done before, sharing the light in the world of darkness.

There had been no conscious effort on my behalf to achieve this point in my life. No, it had all been by God’s design, one piece of a massive puzzle falling into place after another.

A second book awaits the hands of the editor, to eventually come to the world. In that book, the challenges faced in the first book pale in comparison. With each new turn in the changes in my life, those before also pale in comparison. Parallels that one could only imagine now become a reality for me each day. The two edges of the sword are clearer than ever before. Again, the voice inside speaks and says that once my feet trod upon that ancient ground, there will be yet another volume to add to the collection of words from which the Lord will have spoken through me in spite of me.

Truth is led by the Spirit, and with those Words, we live by a truth unobtainable in the world around us. We live by another code that is not of this place, but of another. Because of Him, we have been granted entrance into that eternal abode where we will dwell side by side. But until we are called home, we must serve with every ounce of fortitude within our being. To seek the highest ground, to scale the mountain tops, to reach the unreachable in order to share with those that would heretofore not have had the opportunity to hear the Word; this is our mission.

Thanks be to God.

To learn more about my upcoming mission trip in June, please go to Mission to R.I.D.E.

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by | February 21, 2017 · 9:21 pm

Strength to Carry On…

“For You have armed me with strength for the battle; You have subdued under me those who rose up against me.” -Psalm 18:39

Standing facing the biting cold, as ice pellets from the snow guns burn the flesh on my skin, I wait for the next person in line to come to me. My job; to check the lift ticket for an expiration time and date. My toes are so cold that the feeling has left them, now a numbness matches those of my fingers. “There must be a purpose for my being here,” comes the thought. “Why must I suffer so?” My mind drifts back to another time of struggle, another time of physical hardship.

The dark water swirls around him as he fights to remain afloat. The tiny frame of a boy’s body barely has enough flesh to cover his bones, let alone any fat to help keep him afloat. Tirelessly he battles the fluid that tries to pull him under while struggling to keep his chin above the surface. His thin arms barely have enough strength to continue, but the merit badge requires a full 30 minutes to tread water; so he battles on. He thinks of what he must do in order to succeed. He cannot fail, for failure is not an option in his young mind. From the edge of the dock, the lifeguard yells at him to keep kicking, “Use your cross stroke…don’t give up.” The voice sounds distant, as if in another world. His breath labors as a numbness begins to drift from his mind to his legs. The void below he no longer fears as a certain calmness flows across his consciousness. Above him, the blue sky seems endless as if there is no end to its height. In his last moments he feels his body drifting toward the eternal blueness beyond; then nothing except the gentle hands of those raising his nearly lifeless body from the void. He had made the time, but his tiny frame was nearly spent. He breathed in the air and faced the sky above as he lay on the dock listening to the waves rippling against the wood. Calmness overwhelmed him as peace enveloped his being; God was there.

The mind drifts onward; another place another time. Sweat trickles down his spine, tickling as it runs the length of his body. The heat creates wavering ripples of vision across the tarmac before him. He stands at parade rest along with the rest of his squadron. Attired in their dress blues, their presence underneath the blistering Texas sky is all the more picture perfect. No one can move a muscle lest they face infractions for the inspection. Today is the General’s Parade, the last of their training at the San Antonio facility where the Basic Training for Flight 61 has taken place over the last six weeks.

The young Airmen doesn’t flinch as gnats crawl in and out of his nose, stinging his eyes as they crawl about every orifice mercilessly. He pushes the feeling from his mind, welcoming the return of the numbness experienced once before in his life, a feeling of calmness when darkness whispers into one’s ear. He again begs the question, “Why am I here, and what is my purpose.” There is no response. There is no breeze. The breath of the asphalt overwhelms even the faintest hint of cool as the mind races to find something with which to grasp onto. A hope, a prayer, anything to relinquish it from the here and now. The conscious mind searches the depths of the soul for memories upon which to dwell. Fighting through the suffocating air, labored breath comes. He tries to focus, but blurred eyes find little comfort. “Lord take me away from here, give me relief, show me the way,” he whispers under his breath. His leg nearly buckles as he recalls the instructions not to lock your knees. He hesitantly, but carefully shakes it off. Two rows over another airman falls backward, passed out before he hit the pavement. The thud of his body hitting the ground leaves an eerie sound etched into their collective memories. Across the parade grounds, onlookers peered through veiled eyes as they searched for their loved ones, hoping the fallen were not theirs. A wisp of a breeze gently caresses the flag near the crowd, too far away for relief. Too far away to be felt. Comfort. Too far away; too far…away. “God will surely give me comfort.”

The images fade as the wind picks up.

The snow swirls around like sheets on a clothesline blowing in the wind on a summer’s day. One by one, through the whiteness they come, shuffling their skis as the inch toward the gate. I check them through blurred eyes; blurred not from sweat, but rather, from cold and blinding snow. There is a purpose in my being here. “He would not have it, if it were not so,” I tell myself. “In His time, it will become evident.”

Little did I know, it had already begun.

When we begin our walk with Christ, our journey can lead us anywhere at anytime. We have a purpose in life wherever we go once the journey begins.

And so it is.

Although I might never have envisioned myself working at a Ski Slope part-time, I have found that in everything we do, there is purpose when we serve a living God. There is so much more to tell, but all in due time.

All in due time.

Thanks be to God.

You can learn more about God’s plan for my journey at Mission to Ride.

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by | February 18, 2017 · 9:23 pm

I Once Was Blind…

“The lamp of the body is the eye. If therefore your eye is good, your whole body will be full of light…” -Matthew 6:22

I once was blind, but now I see.

There are few greater gifts than that of sight.

Vision is both a physical and a philosophical entity.

On the one hand, we are unable to see the world around us without our eyesight. We awaken each day and find a world of color and light bringing to us all the nuances of living. To our eyes, darkness is the veil of gloom, something we fear, and rightly so. As we age our eyes change and many become victims of cataracts or worse. As the light begins to fade, too often so does the spirit. That virility of the drive in our youth begins to wane, and as the sunset of life cast dark shadows around us. We sense an end, but there is so much more.

The other aspect of vision is that of the ability to spiritually or mentally see something that is not there. Some call having vision the gift to see into the future and to be able to prophesize as to what is to come. Others call having vision, the ability to think ahead of oneself and create something mentally before it exists. No matter which vision we are speaking of, there is something to be seen which is not evident, neither terrestrial or physical.

Before I had answered his calling to serve at the Trail, the optometrist had warned me of a quickly growing cataract. However, once the wheels of the journey began, there was little time to deal with physical ailments, let alone the fact that Marketplace Insurance would do little to cover the costs of the surgery needed to fix the affliction. So I continued on while the ever growing and diminishing eyesight continued.

All along, I knew in order to be better serve in my capacity as the Director of the Trail, I would have to be as the scriptures read, to die to my former self. “That was simple,” I reasoned. “I’m no longer an engineer, rather, I need to learn how to minister to those seeking faith.” As a dedicated Christian, everything I did, I did with an eye toward the Lord. So, I poured over the Bible like never before. I studied Church history and spent every waking hour filling my mind with the knowledge of what it would take to better serve Him. Every day, my eyesight grew dimmer as the darkness grew. The harder I worked, the greater the scope of the darkness around me seemed to expand as well. There had been many bridges burned before I ever arrived, whether intentional or not. Not only did I face a physical obstruction within, but there was also a force beyond that could not be battled alone. “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.”-1 Peter 5:8 In essence, I realized that to make the Trail all it could be, would take many years, not just a couple; nonetheless, I pushed on.

All the while, a greater awareness of the spiritual world around me began to take hold. There amongst the prayers, the coincidences that weren’t, to the unexplainable events a new perception of reality began to take hold. A new vision through the eyes of faith began to color the world around me. Like a shift from the days of black and white TV, to those of color TV, there was a gradual enrichment of life. This sweeter taste of living began to overwhelm my senses to the point nothing else compared. The desires of the past paled to what I now could see through the eyes of my new spirituality.

Meanwhile, God was making new plans for me, for this was not the final resting place in my journey; it was just the beginning, a stepping stone.

I soon found one door closing and a new one opening. Blessings answered doubts, fears were replaced with joys. However, amongst the beautiful changes, there was still the ever encroaching darkness. Day-by-day, the cataract grew until the vision out of my right eye was like looking through a sheet of wax paper. My left eye was deteriorating as well; time was running out. To add to the struggle, the drive to and from the new career required driving along curvy mountain roads unlike any I had ever traversed in my lifetime. The thought of those winding country roads back where I grew up on in Posey and Warrick Counties came to mind, but they were nothing compared to these mountain hairpin turns. At times they literally can take your breath away as you peer into the abyss that lay below, where no guardrail exists to block your view. My vision ha become so severe that at I would pray before leaving the house for School in the pre-dawn hours knowing what lay ahead. The ultimate test came the day the fog was so thick the lines on the road were barely visible. As I drove up the mountain, the fog increased in its density as the rain began to fall. Curve after curve, the rain and fog decreased my already reduced visibility to nearly nothing.

It was then, beyond all belief, the windshield wiper flew off.

I watched the last vestiges of my visibility seemed to fade to nothing. The car slowed to a crawl so that I might make sense of the blurred images before me.

“God, if this is a test, please let me know when I can turn it in, cause I think I’m about at the end of my ability to cope.”

Slowly as I inched along, as if on cue, around the next turn, the clouds broke, the rain subsided, and the fog disappeared.

“Thanks be to God,” I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

With time, God gives us the ability to understand more than we have before. With time, we learn from whence we came, and to that extent, we become more of whom we for which we were created. “Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.” -Jeremiah 33:3

There came into my life a renewed expectance. Like one receiving a gift, there is the anticipation of what lies ahead. So it was when we found an optometrist that performed not only cataract surgery but repair of eye lenses, I knew God’s hand was at work. Not only was my physical vision repaired, but now, Thanks be to God, it is corrected for life. What was even more miraculous was that the blessings of help came from friends and a new medical policy which now covered the procedure. All of this would not have been possible if the door had not closed and the other one opened.

“I was once blind, but now I see,” are words that I cannot take lightly anymore.

Dying to one’s former self is more than just the occupation, as I had thought. Yes, I realized that one would also die to those former earthly desires of the flesh, but what I hadn’t understood was that it was an awakening of perception of life as a whole. In the past, my five and ten-year goals were based around climbing the corporate ladder, finding myself in a greater place of wealth, and striving to obtain earthly possessions. Once my vision changed, so did my perception of my purpose in life as a whole. The slamming door made me realize that He had blessed me with knowledge for a reason. While I was to serve Him in all that I do, it was also using all that I am. In other words, part of my former self was still necessary in order to go forward with my journey at hand.

My learning continues as I now stand before those who are doing likewise. As I strive to be better in my new-found career, I also continue in parallel my study of His Word. My goals are nothing more than to make myself better equipped to serve Him in this journey and to see the world as He would have me to do so.

My vision is clearer more than ever before. With new eyes I see.

Like the blind beggar, we only have to ask in order to receive, “So Jesus stood still and commanded him to be brought to Him. And when he had come near, He asked him, 41 saying, “What do you want Me to do for you?”

He said, “Lord, that I may receive my sight.”

42 Then Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has made you well.” 43 And immediately he received his sight, and followed Him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.” – Luke 18:40-42

My vision of the future now has only one goal; to seek Him and receive the gift of eternal life. He gave His only Son to us, so that we may have eternal life. How much greater motivation do we need than that? “…the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

In all that we do, let us strive to be all that we can for His will.

“For I once was blind, but now I see.”

Thanks be to God!

You can learn more about God’s plan for my journey at Mission to Ride.

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by | January 30, 2017 · 8:49 pm

Mission to R.I.D.E.

“ 7 Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.” -Matthew 7:7-8

After leaving a friend’s home recently after having dinner with them, we had discussed the possibility of my joining a mission team to the Waldensian Valleys located in the northwest corner of Italy. I was overwhelmed with a sense of purpose once again. This was not to be misconstrued with my everyday purpose in life; standing before the next generation and doing my best to implore before them the necessary morals and standards to base their lives upon, albeit through the discourse of Mathematics. No, this sense of purpose was of a higher power, from God. To be more specific, it was the answer to my question I had asked Him in the recent past. “When you are ready for me to go, let me know,” was my question to God about going to the Waldensian Valleys. Suddenly, out of the blue, He has called for me to go. However, as before, the human nature of my mind wants to step in the way, especially when the question of funds arises. I know deep in my heart that if it is meant to be, then there won’t be any doubt, regardless of funds or no funds. So after leaving their house, I purposely asked in prayer that if He truly wanted me to go, to speak to me directly. The next morning, Matthew 7:7-8 was waiting for me in my daily scripture reading, “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find…”

“Yes,” he had answered.

On our way home, before the prayer, the thought of “how” nagged at me in the back of my mind. Suddenly, the idea of the “GoFundMe” project came to me. Would it work? Would I have a purpose needful enough to spark the imagination of other enough for them to donate to my cause? Deep in my soul, there is a voice speaking to me that tells me once my feet land upon that soil of those ancient martyrs, my life will never be the same. Like the Englishmen, Charles Beckwith, who would eventually relocated to the valleys to serve,  I know beforehand the potential impact that standing in places that heretofore I could only imagine, would be cause for great joy and weeping, simultaneously. Tour after tour at the Trail of Faith, I shared with those who could not go, like myself.  God again and again, spoke through me and allowed me to bring the Trail of Faith, which was modeled after the original monuments and historic buildings of the valleys, to come alive. Many visitors, and myself,  were often moved by the Holy Spirit. Now, to go to the very place where my heart was preparing for not only those guests but for my own testimony, would be a mission of more than just self-inspiration and revitalization. There is the hope that in this journey, there will be an evangelistic fire that will erupt from which many will be touched. How, where, and by what means this will happen I can only conjecture at this point.

To try to explain the nature of this mission in one word is not possible. Brother Barry exclaimed that it was many things in one, and thus was born the acronym, R.I.D.E. (R-Research, I-Inspiration, D-Devotional, E-Education). As God prepares my heart and mind for what is to come, there are also those miracles that one cannot predict, only God is capable of knowing. So it goes, with what little I can predict, the RIDE will by His will become reality.

In all of this, there is so much that I have already learned. Learning to receive was and continues to be for me one of the most difficult attributes to practice. “Ask and ye shall receive, knock and the door will be opened…”; easier said than done. But when one thinks on this as God’s will, there is no hesitation to knock nor ask.

Another night I wearily prepare for much-needed rest, and another night, I lift up this need to God in prayer and ask that if it is to be. If that comes through GoFundMe, then so be it. However it happens, I can peacefully rest assure that it is in His hands.

Thanks be to God.

If you would like to help fund this mission project, please click here, Mission to R.I.D.E. and Thank You in advance.

Video Presentation

 

 

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by | January 28, 2017 · 9:43 pm

Sitting On a Step Watching Life…

Today God took me to the front porch of the little convenient store in the town of Colletsville. There, as I sat on the steps of the modern day general store watching the world go by, I waited. The voice had told me to go there and wait for someone, whom I did not know. So there I sat. One person after another got out of their cars, and either went inside the store or pulled up to the gas pumps to fill up their vehicle. My destination began with speaking to the workers inside asking if they went to any local churches; neither did. I asked if they lived in the area, and they said yes, just up the road. It was then I realized there was part of the reason I had been sent. Pouring myself a cup a coffee, I then retired to the front steps where my story began and waited.

It didn’t take long, but soon an older man, scruffily dressed in overalls, pulled up in his pick-up truck and got out, calling out to me as he shut the door. “Fine day we’re having,” he nearly shouted from across the parking lot. I took another sip of the hot brew and nodded, “Yes, it certainly is,” I answered.


He stepped on the first step and started to climb but paused when I said, “It’s not quite as bad as it was last night, though.” The rough-hewn mountain man looked down at me, “Yea, that wind can cut right through you.”

 The previous night had been a bitter cold sixteen degrees with winds gusting to thirty miles an hour. The chill was still in my bones; thus the hot coffee well after dinner. I took another sip as I nodded in agreement. I removed my sunglasses so as not to seem unfriendly and asked. “Do you know of any good churches in the area?”

“What kinda church you looking for,” he answered as he stepped backward off the step so that he now stood in front of me.

“One that preaches the Word of God,” I answered solemnly.

“Thems the best kind. That’s what I like,” he squinted as he checked me out. It was at that moment, that silent split second when you feel a connection to someone; someone you had never met before, but there in the moment, there was something that tied you together far beyond the mere seconds in which you stood. “Well, there’s the couple we have here in Colletsville,” he tilted his head in the direction of the two churches I had just driven past a few minutes earlier when I was checking out their starting times and denominational affiliations. “The Advent Church was started nearly over a hundred years ago when their preacher rode down from the mountains on a mule.”

“Wow,” I exclaimed.

“They’re all good folks.”

“I noticed they were pretty close together, the churches that is.”

“Yeah, the one used to sit facing the road but the flood spun it around on the foundation, and they just left it there after it was repaired.”

“The flood that took out the railroad tracks?”

“Yep, that’s the one.” He then stepped forward and introduced himself, “I’m Cecil Byrd.”

I reached out my hand and shook his firmly, “Tim Tron,” I answered, smiling back at him. I followed with, “You have the same name as one of my favorite uncles.” To that, he smiled extra wide.

“Yep, I guess it ain’t a very common name.”

“You take my brother, for example, his name is Daniel Boone Byrd. You’da thought they would’ve called me Davie Crockett Byrd, but no, they called me Cecil.”

 “No, I guess not. Did they name you after a family member?”

 “No, they told me my daddy worked for a man that he didn’t like. His name was Cecil.”

“Hmm,” I said biting my lip in curiosity.

“It don’t make any sense, but then sometimes that’s just the way life is.”

When I asked if there was anyone around that made string music, he told me, no, but his mother used to play the banjo.

“She was quite musical you might say. She played the banjo, guitar, and even the piano.” The pride in his voice was evident, but as he spoke, he seemed to drift off almost as if he was still listening to those ancient tones come back to life. In the distance, I could almost hear that relic of clawhammer sound echo off the mountain walls near us.

As our conversation continued on, Cecil would welcome or call out to almost everyone that was coming and going in and out of the store. It was obvious he was the unofficial town Mayor. Some he would ask how they’d been or some would ask about a job he had just finished, which was putting a new roof on another church just down the road, not either of the two we had talked about earlier. He was a roofer by trade, putting on roofs for the past forty years. His father had taught him before he passed when Cecil was only twenty years old. I shared with Cecil my calling and how God had brought me here. He shared with me more of his family history and how he had lost some of his siblings throughout his life. Soon a large black Ford 2500 Diesel pulled up which commanded all of  Cecil’s attention. It had just pulled out of the school parking lot which was across the street from the store.

“Nice rig,” I remarked admiringly.

“Sure is,” he grinned, “That’s my boy.”

Cecil then left me and walked over to visit with his grandchildren who began pouring out of the massive, fully-loaded pickup, complete with a heavy duty electric winch fastened on the aftermarket painted black metal, Texas brush bumper.

I waited for the appropriate time so as not to interrupt, tossed my empty coffee cup into the garbage nearby as I headed for my car.

“Talk to you later Cecil,” I said, waving goodbye.

“You too,” he called back, waving in my direction. “Good talkin’ to ya.”

Behind the store, the Johns River silently flowed past as time and mankind came and went. Somewhere in the farthest reaches of a holler nearby sits a banjo covered in dust whose memory begs to come to life. Somewhere those memories are still alive, a  heartbeat away.

Welcome to my new home.

Thanks be to God.

 

 

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by | December 31, 2016 · 10:08 pm

Trust and Obey…

 

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“Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea And a path through the mighty waters, “Do not remember the former things, Nor consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing, Now it shall spring forth; Shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness And rivers in the desert.” – Isaiah 43:16,18-19

 

“Trust and obey, there’s no other way,” goes the old hymn. The word “Trust,” is something that is probably the more difficult of the two commands mentioned in the song. Its definition, “reliance on the veracity, integrity, or other virtues of someone or something; religious faith,” from Old Norse traust “help, confidence, protection, support.”[1] Trust is a word that confides in our ability to depend upon something greater than ourselves, and as such, is often difficult to understand or appreciate when it comes to fruition.

In the last year, I have been witness to everything from loss of loved ones to the utterly inexplicable. I’ve felt the presence and heard the voice of heavenly beings, more than once. In that timeframe, the path upon which seemed to be my true calling suddenly took an unexpected turn, altering the course of everything I had come to know and trust, into a wilderness where only faith could sustain a being. Again and again, I sought protection and support from the only place I knew; the Word of God.

He never let me down.

Living between one’s past and the future allows for reflection and projection, something else I experienced in the span of 2016. While still moving a farm from one place to another, we continued to settle into the life that was new, serving at the Trail of Faith. There at the Trail I found more and more calling to help those in need, those seeking God, and guidance from a place that was so aptly named. There I learned how to pray over those making their pilgrimages to a place they had only read about. Some had studied up to the point they came wanting to gain a better perspective, to walk the literal trail of faith. Each time, each new visitor, I found God teaching and leading me in ways I had never thought possible. There were the discoveries of new friendships and with those, a new feeling of trust in knowing that serving Him was the right path.

Then in the midst of what seemed to be the perfect path, my father became gravely ill. Once again I was reminded of those Godly circumstances that provided me the ability to see him before he passed. There is no greater gift than knowing God had given you the chance to hug your mother one last time, or to kiss your father goodbye, but each step of the way, that was my blessing. As I walked out of that hospital room, I knew we’d not see each other until we reach that Glory land above, and so it was. On our way home from the funeral, my sister and I received confirmation that all was right when we saw the most unbelievable, color-filled, double rainbow like none we had ever seen before in our lives.

Another blessing, another circumstance unexplained.

Even while those daily life lessons were being served, both good and sorrowful, He was at work on the next road into a wilderness not yet imagined. Every time my family would ask questions as to how, when, and where, I would ask them to patient and wait, for in time, all of their concerns would be answered. It was in these moments, soon after their questions, I found myself alone with Him, praying and listening for more.

There were times of darkness that filled us with doubt. In the waiting, there was learning. It was all part of the path that was chosen; each subject to the other.

Yet, each time He spoke, I listened. Each time I asked, He answered.

There were was the day we didn’t have enough money to buy food until the next paycheck, and with only a half-a-gallon of milk left in the fridge at the house, I silently asked God for help as I went to the Trail to open up that morning. There was nobody else that new our dire straits; nobody else had been told how close we were to going hungry; nobody. As I opened the door, there sitting on the podium as I walked in was a single white envelope with my name scratched on it, almost illegible. I picked it up, curiously and opened it. Tears filled my eyes as I dropped to my knees.

There inside was $40 cash.

God once more answered prayer.

“Knock and the door will be opened, ask and yea shall receive.”

This was just one of many Godsends that we experienced as we learned to trust and obey. Brothers and sisters from all over came to our time aid in our time of need, again and again. This in itself was difficult to understand and accept. We had to learn a whole new paradigm of life, how to receive.

Continually each day, prayers would be lifted up for guidance. One specific prayer that seemed to go unanswered was for Him to find someone to buy our old farmstead. But like all things asked for, one must consider God’s time. For us, in what seemed an eternity but in reality was blinding speed, our home of over twenty years finally sold. It was a bittersweet memory, even now. Looking back, it was when things began to move faster than one could conceive; at God-speed.

In a blinding fury, we cleaned, mowed, and moved the last vestiges of a lifetime in a matter of two weeks. We had moved from the reflection to the immediate. As things began to move along, we still didn’t know where we would finally end up living.

Prayers continued to be lifted up, for we still were housed in a temporary shelter, we affectionately called, “The Shack.”

Then one day we found ourselves driving toward the area of West Lenoir, I wondered why. Deep inside it felt right even though it didn’t seem logical at the time. After all, we had been through; I knew it was a God thing. Again, His will would be done in time. There, through one unbelievable circumstance after another, we found a new home that would soon be our next step in the journey. There too we found new friends that would someday become our neighbors, as well as a brother and sister in Christ.

Something else I learned through the course of the year, unbelievable circumstances are more easily called “Miracles.” In all honesty, we are afraid to use the “M” word for fear of non-believers accusing us of believing in fantasy. “If they could only see what I’ve seen,” I think to myself, “then it wouldn’t be such a stretch of the imagination.”

After the sale of our farm and the purchase of our new home, we had moved from the reflection into the projection of time.

Then came the closing of the door we never saw coming. The loss of funding for my position at the Trail, and then the search for the next “What.” For nearly ten years of my last 23 years at Nortel/Genband, I had feared losing my job and to have to find a new one. We never thought it would happen after we had given everything up to live for our new life.

But alas, here we were.

Faith took on a whole new level of trust.

Once more, when it seemed like all would be lost, the unbelievable transpired. After three weeks of looking for jobs, filling out an untold number of applications, there had not been one phone call, not one interview. One morning I awoke to scripture that read, “Today will be the end of your suffering, your trials will cease today.” That afternoon came the first phone call. Then in a matter of 24 hours, God speed once again took over. Before I knew it, I had two job offers and was quickly hired as a High School Math Teacher in Boone, NC. His plan had been fulfilled.  The realization dawned on me that the move to our new home’s location allowed for a commute to the new job that was manageable instead of inconceivable. God’s hand was in it every step of the way.

In the beginning, the story seemed like I was moving to a place where I could share God’s word from the mountain; the mountain being the Trail. Before I knew it, I was serving Him from the mountain top, but in a way, I had never imagined.  

Every day, new doors open to places I never saw coming. Each day I pray for strength, guidance, and wisdom. Every day God answers prayer.

God will make rivers through the deserts and roads through the wilderness if only we trust in Him.

It has been a year of untold highs and lows, but in the end, it has been a year of serving our Lord, and for that, I couldn’t ask for more.

Thanks be to God.

[1] “Online Etymology Dictionary – http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=trust

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