Category Archives: Inspirational

“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.”

cumnock UMCThis 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, Ms Frankiemembers 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.

Ms. Frankie Harris Singing

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 muletook 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.

breadA 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.”

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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

 

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Late Bloomer…

2013-05-24 07.25.54We 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.

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Porch Swing…

porchswingAs of late, I’ve found one of my favorite places to spend a few minutes in quiet reflection is the porch swing. The wooden swing that hangs at the end of our porch, sits in a little alcove I built on that end of the house, which creates its own little special corner. There, underneath the overhanging branches of the cherry tree, I can sit and listen to the waterfall in the Koi pond as I look out upon rich green pastures.

Today was ever more the special intoxicating moment. The air was crisp and clean following the rain shower that had just passed moments before. The sunset was muted, but shown through the ever darkening foliage on the trees that caused the light to flicker through to where I sat, gently swinging. I closed my eyes and lay back on the swing, as the momentum from the earlier push kept me swaying, ever so gently. I felt as if I were back in New Harmony once more, sitting next to my Grandma Tron, there on their little front porch, as she gently swung us. At times, she pushed us so lightly, I could barely tell we were moving, yet with her quiet disposition and mannerisms, the action was one with her being. She would talk to us or sing hymns as we sat there, usually snapping beans or doing some type of chore. Late on summer evenings, after all the work was done, we would sit there on that porch sharing stories and listening to the sounds of the world around us.cattle in blooms

Today, as I swung, nearly as softly as did my grandma, I hear the birds sing their chorus of anthems to spring. The air is so fresh you can almost hear it whisper as the breeze caresses the low hanging leaves that now tickle the reflection of light in and out of the corner of the porch where I sit. Time slowly ebbs, the swing rocks to and fro and life goes on, one blissful second of eternity after another.

From here, nothing else matters as the last drop of rain falls from the cherry tree in random sprits upon the damp earth below.

All God has given, and to all we must cherish each moment as if it were never to be seen again, but all ours to own.

Thank you God for another beautiful moment in my swing, and enjoy your ride with grandma in yours up there.

 

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Roller Coaster Ride at a Motorcycle Shop…

“In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths.” –Prov. 3:6

I was more than blessed yesterday when I had the wonderful opportunity to be a guest on a weekly2013-04-27 11.41.49 broadcast show on the Truth Radio Network. I was one of several visitors who came on the “Robby’s Hobbies” show, hosted by Robby Dilmore and gave their testimony in Christ along with telling the listening audience how their life’s hobbies or spiritual gifts have helped them in their walk of faith.

It was obvious once the show began that Robby had not shared with any of us visitors as to whom the other guests might be. For me at least, it made for a very spontaneous and ultimately rewarding experience. Before I was invited to be on the show, Robby and I talked by phone about my reason for being on the show which was to tell his listeners about my book, “Bruecke to Heaven”, and the story of faith behind it. When he called, I had just got up from a couple hours sleep, trying to recover from working the night shift; I never get enough. As I sat on the front porch swing talking with Robby, I sat looking out across lush green pastures in the distance, while the bountiful pink blossoms of the cherry tree swayed gently in the foreground, sprinkling tiny blooms in the air like snow flurries of spring. It was in this mode that we both shared with one another or faith, our passion for what we do and I felt a calm come over me, like Robby was someone I had always known; it was as if I was talking to family.

We had originally talked about me coming to the studio for the interview but due to a schedule change, the date which I chose to be interviewed happen to be the same date in which the station was going to be putting on a live broadcast at the Honda of Winston Salem motorcycle shop. Robby asked if I was ok with that, and I thought, “Hey, I’m always up for a challenge and it would certainly be an adventure,” so I gladly accepted. The challenging part was the fact that I had told Robby I could perform a song that I wrote about the book on air if he liked, which he said would be fantastic. In lieu of being live, on air, broadcasting from a motorcycle shop, I knew that trying to perform a song on location might be a disaster, so a great friend and fellow J.A.M. supporter/teacher, Mark Dillon, graciously agreed to meet with me beforehand and record the song I was to do on the air. I wanted to have one in the can, so to speak, which we could play instead.

So, Saturday morning came, and after dropping my family off in Greensboro to begin celebrating my daughter’s 12th birthday, I found my way to the motorcycle shop in Winston-Salem. Upon arriving, it was easy to see I was at the right place. There was a tractor trailer parked in the lot next to the Honda dealership at a furniture consignment store. It was the “Harvest America” road show, which was there until noon, and then it would be off to Raleigh for the remainder of the day. They were promoting their upcoming nationwide simulcast event on September 28 and 29th. Greg Laurie, the evangelist leading the event, is considered to quite possibly be the next Billy Graham. The huge trailer, along with hundreds of balloons, tents and signage made for an excitement in the air just from the visual perspective. I walked into the Honda dealership finding Robby already fully engaged in his show that preceded ours, but he acknowledged me while continuing to air his show.

I walked around, looking at all the motorcycles, speaking to people there, both working and visiting, and before I knew it, it was time to start. Another good friend of mine, Dean Lang, had encouraged me by text message earlier to relax and just be myself, so as I reviewed his text, I sucked in a deep breath and put on the headphones for the interview to begin. Before I sat down, I handed Robby the CD Mark and I had made and he somewhat dejectedly said that he had hoped I would do it live. I asked, “Here on a live broadcast?” To which he replied, “Sure, it will be just fine.” His calmness soon erased my fears, so I unpacked my guitar and tuned up so it was ready to go when he asked.

As the interview began, I sat across the table from Robby and another guest, Ross. Chik-fil-A was hosting another Chik-fil-A Leadercast event and Ross was there promoting the local church who was also hosting the event via simulcast. Before we started, we did a sound check on our mics, so Robby asked Ross to go first and to just say John 3:16. So Ross did, he said, “John 3:16,” and stopped. Robby looked at him and waited for more, which Ross soon realized he wanted him to keep going so the engineer could get the sound volume correct and was somewhat comically put on the spot. Robby then asked me to do the same, which I then quoted John 3:16 and then continued into John 3:17 as well. Robby and the engineer had more than enough of my sound check to work with and Ross was somewhat dismayed, when he said, “Well, I didn’t realize I was going to be sitting across from an over-achiever.” We all laughed and the gig was on: the roller coaster was at the top of the first hill and about to drop off the first precipice.

2013-04-27 11.41.12I don’t recall the exact order of events from there, like a roller coaster, once the ride began it became a blur; only the high and lowlights stuck. I did find it challenging that we were sharing time between multiple guests, so I would speak for a bit then stop and allow other guests to talk. Then when it was my time again, I had to pick up where I left off, which was often the challenging part. The talk went back and forth between myself and Ross, with Robby interjecting during breaks the Harvest America event, all pretty up beat until the lady came on whom was a cancer survivor to tell her story. She had just had a complete bilateral mastectomy and was there to tell her story of recovery and faith. Just prior to her speaking, Robby asked me to perform my song; we were now at the bottom of one of those roller coaster hills and the peak seemed so far up I couldn’t see the top from where I sat.

I prayed a silent prayer asking God to please sing through me in spite of me, closed my eyes and began.

It seemed like an eternity, but was over in the blink of an eye. The last strains of the melody were still echoing in my ears when the crowd who had gathered around erupted into applause. I opened my eyes to see for myself who all was now there, and saw the sudden audience and then looked over at the cancer survivor. She had tears in her eyes and was holding a copy of my book in her hands. Robby went to her next and she began to speak in a shaky voice how I had just touched her heart. As I sit here now trying to write this with tears in my eyes, I can’t begin to tell you the feeling of knowing that God has spoken through you, but there it was, right there, in a motorcycle shop in Winston-Salem on an overcast morning, with people from all walks of faith gathered around, either in person or listening across the country, witnessing the power of the Lord.

As we sat there listening to her touch our hearts, she said that the quote from my the book that is written on the cover touched her event more and then she read it to us, “Yes my son, the angels speak to us often, and with our hearts in the right place, we can hear them.”

From there, her testimony and the rest of the show was an emotional blur, as I was blown away from all that had just transpired. I met many wonderful people in such a short timeframe, seen the effects of a Godly moving event and had a song God gave me, sung on the airwaves across the nation, and it the clock had barely struck noon.

I left the dealership, like one leaves a barn-burner roller coaster ride, shaken but super charged at the same time. I knew when this book journey began that the only thing I could count on was not knowing where the journey would lead and today, was yet another wonderful surprise and life enriching experience.

I pray that as God leads me, I find the paths he shows, this is all I can hope and pray. Amen!

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Filed under Inspirational, Religion, Religious Experience

Poetry: Whispered Memories…

whispered

Sanguine utterances of rhythmic prose,

beleagering thoughts of dawning rose,

in shadowed light we whisper errant memories

as padded footsteps from behind emerge,

not to startle,

only to reassure.

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The Calm Before the Storm…

(This was taken from my journal entry of last weekend)cattle in blooms

The air is full today.

As I sit here on the freshly mown lawn by the fire I can hear a plethora of sounds, smell the rich fragrance of the blossoms in full bloom and see the movement of life all around me. We await the rain that sits foreboding upon the tree lined horizon. The soil, turned and ready, holds the seeds that have been tucked away, eager for the arrival of the life giving moisture from which they will burst forth toward the light. In a way, they are like children who have been tucked in bed for a long winter’s night slumber on Christmas Eve, knowing Saint Nicholas will soon be arriving; then bursting forth at the first hint of morning light; one seeks a gift while the other will provide the gift of life, food.

All around the farm there is not one moment or sight that does not go rewarded. I can hear the supper’s meal sizzling in the foil on the fire while the Cardinal dashes by, eyeing me as he passes, obviously curious as to why I’m here. This is his domain and I am an unwanted guest. When yonder window pane beckons, he attacks the red bird image, sometimes so boldly that he knocks himself silly. The smell of the sausage returns my thoughts to food being cooked over the open fire. Wandering wisps of smoke follow the slight breeze toward the pasture where the cattle lie now reposed from a day’s foraging. The calves are all sated as they lounge in the green grass, blades of life that just a few days ago struggled to break the trance of the brown landscape of the relentless artic chill.

2013-04-14 07.55.47Squirrels chase one another up and down the hickory tree, nails and tails flying as they go. The skittering sounds of their whimsical games upon the smooth tree bark blend with their squeals of taunts to one another. We once sought them for supper; today we are bent preparing the good earth for an eventual hopeful reward. The delicate balance of seed, soil, water and sunlight will determine the ultimate harvest. It is our task to try to make them all balance out at the right time. So much has been given, but so much more will be asked of us; so says the good book.

Today, the air is so full and rich with all the senses being rewarded no matter where you look. This morning’s azure blue sky has now faded to gray as the coming storms shadow the landscape with an overcast haze. The transition was barely noticeable as we spent the day as a family, working together, collecting the fuel for the fire from the fencerows, plowing and disking the garden, then cooking our supper underneath the outdoor sky. We’ll sleep well tonight for the work of earth and hand not only makes the back weary but likewise rewards the soul.

Yes, today the air was full and so was life.

Thank you Lord.

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Poetry: The Sap Is a Rising…

cherrytree1

The Sap is a rising!

 

Bees buzz effervescently

 Amid rich bouquets of color,

 Making the vibrant foliage,

 Ever more alive.

 

The new warmth penetrates,

 Aching bones,

 Soothing deepness

 To the core

 Until life’s spirit is renewed.

 

The Sap is surely rising!

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Incredibly Close, Too Close…

The other day I realized there is still something buried deep inside my psychic that hasn’t gone away.movie1_

I don’t recall what day it was, but  I just happen to catch a few minutes of a movie that came out in 2011, “Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close.” As I watched, I realized that the character Tom Hanks played, Thomas Schell, dies in the September 11 attacks on the World Trade Centers. I was fine watching the movie up until a certain scene, then I had to stop.

Oskar, Thomas’s son, comes home from school after they are let out early due to the attacks. The door man tells him that his father had a meeting and is not home yet. When Oskar gets inside the apartment, he realizes both his parents are not home.  However, there is a message on the answering machine, which is the voice of Oskar’s father. I listened as Thomas tells Oskar that he is still at the meeting and that they are telling everyone there to stay where they are, that everything would be alright.

For some reason, something inside of me clicked and I felt nauseous; I couldn’t watch anymore of the movie.

I don’t know if it was hearing the voice of the boy’s father on the answering machine that brought back the pain of scenes from that day so long ago or not. I had heard documentaries where they replayed voices of victims of the attacks making final desperate calls to loved ones. For some reason, the scene of the young boy approaching the answering machine in the home, untouched by the world outside, with the voice of someone who was trying to reassure them that everything was fine seemed to strike a chord. I know that in the end, the title of the movie must have played out in his message when he surely would have described what was happening around him as, “Extremely loud and incredibly close.” I can only imagine what hell the people that died in those towers that day must have gone through.

I once stood as many people have doen,  on the upper deck of one of the two towers, several years before 9/11. Asmovie3_ I stood overlooking the skyline of New York City on a surprisingly clear day, I saw in the distance a small private plane flying by. For some reason the thought occurred to me, “What would I do if a plane ran into the building?” I stood there trying to envision the hell that might ensue. “Would there be a way to escape down the building through flames, or would they just air lift us off the roof,” were some of the thoughts that passed in that moment. I momentarily felt a chill go up my spine for that was something that was unthinkable.  I felt ashamed for thinking such thoughts and just let it go, not telling anyone.  The year was 1996.

Five years later, I was sitting holding my daughter in my arms; gently movie2_rocking her while I gave her a bottle of formula. I had just come home from working the nightshift and the T.V. was airing the morning news. I planned to go to bed for the day after Mary finished her bottle, when suddenly the news broke in with the scene of one of the towers already smoking. The rest of the morning was a blur, other than finally seeing both towers collapse, something I will never forget.

I guess, deep inside, we were all changed that day; no matter how much we want to admit it. I know there is a part of me, a thread of life that can be tugged in such a way that it becomes almost unbearable.  9/11 is one of my threads.

Is it yours?

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Filed under Inspirational, Visions

Physicality of Reality…

[From our recent trip to Stone Mountain State Park NC]

This is us, full of energy as we search for the trail that is supposed to go to the top of the mountain. Eventually we just followed a game trail to the top. We even found bear scat along the way.

This is us, full of energy as we search for the trail that is supposed to go to the top of the mountain. Eventually we just followed a game trail to the top. We even found bear scat along the way.

This morning we awoke to mountain lightly dusted with snow; like powdered sugar atop a muffin. For the most part, it didn’t last long except in those deep dark ravines; there it remained all day as a reminder of winter’s vestiges that refuse to release their icy grip. As we hiked along Widow Creek Falls the snow continued to fall in light flurries. It made it seem all the more dreamlike; the air crisp with little white flakes of angels wings drifting around us as we labored to ascend the summit of some unknown mountaintop. From a distance we could see Stone Mountain with its patches of smooth barren rock. These bare areas made it stand out in the amber light of the morning glow. Those patches shone brightly as their surfaces glistened from the icy moisture that ran in rivulets down their cold granite faces.

Our hill, entirely tree covered, was thick with leaves and dark loamy soil which padded our footsteps; this was ever more appreciated on the downward descent we would later take. Our summit, although tree covered, was seemingly taller than those around us. We gasped the crisp cold air in large gulps as our hearts beat madly in our chests; meanwhile, our eyes beheld a beauty only God could create.

As we sat on a log recovering from our fast pace ascent, I thought of the ancestors, those who had marched out of the Alps in the dead of winter, with -waist deep snow to trudge through while carrying all their belongings. They had been told to leave or die; this was their ultimatum. So they left to become refugees in Germany where they settled a town they called Walldorf. These were our Waldensian ancestors who inspired me to write the book, “Bruecke to Heaven”. They not only had to endure altitudes much higher than what we were experiencing, but they also had to survive a brutal winter march for hundreds of miles. Our hike up this

This is us after the grueling hike, glad that we only had one mountain to climb.

This is us after the grueling hike, glad that we only had one mountain to climb.

unknown mountain was labeled on our park map as six miles. I could tell you it felt like six miles straight up. I could not imagine having to sustain a march like the one we took for fun for hundreds of miles, in harsher weather and climatic conditions. I have to admit, that at times, I had to stop and take a break along with my children. We are all in pretty good shape, so if you know us,

you understand that we had taken a very aggressive patch up this slope. As the pounding of our heartbeats throbbed in our ears and the snowflakes gently fell, I had to amaze again at the sheer magnificence of those people who fought and struggled so heartily to survive. After all, I would not be here today if it weren’t for them.

As somebody said when I told them of our experience, they exclaimed that those ancient people definitely did something miraculous. That of course was nothing compared to what they had already done before their winter march, and for that, I had write the book.

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