Category Archives: Religious Experience

Talk Me Home…

This past Thursday morning I had the good fortune of having Pastor David “Talk Me Home”.

The term, “Talk Me Home” is a term we people who work the night shift use to describe when you have someone talk to you on the handsfreephone while driving home in order to help keep you awake. Now, before I go any further I want to say that I use a hands-free mobile device, so I am fully functional and capable of controlling my vehicle while driving. With an hour long commute one way, I’ve had to learn to be hands-free with my phone. Also, having worked the grave-yard shift for the better part of fourteen years, I’ve had to come up with all manner of tricks to help keep me awake while driving the dangerous hour-long one-way drive each morning. I’ve written about this before in the post “Into the Open Arms of a Child” , how every evening before leaving for work, I try to make it a point to hug my children good bye and to tell them, “I love you”. For you see, I don’t know if it will be the last time I see them on this side of Heaven or not; that’s just how dangerous the drive home is.

Falling asleep at the wheel is my biggest fear and anyone that has worked third shift for any length of time knows exactly what I’m talking about. Far too many times I’ve woken up to the sound of my tires crossing the yellow line into the lane of the oncoming traffic, only to have the hand of God grab the wheel and swerve me back into my own lane. I’ve blacked out and woken up in my own drive way, not remembering several miles of the last leg of my journey; once again, thanking God for being there to guide me. So often when we find ourselves getting to that point, just before the blackouts start, we either stop and take a nap or we use our lifeline and call someone who can literally “Talk Us Home”.

One morning I was drifting off way too early, so I called my father who was known to be up early at that time. He answered and I immediately told him I needed him to “Talk Me Home.” He gladly obliged and when I would start to fade, he would yell at me, bearcrossinggetting my attention and then he would jump into a new topic to help keep my thoughts fresh and engaged. I was doing pretty good, only missing one turn and thus found myself heading east for the last stretch of my drive. As I approached the morning sun, something was not accustomed too since I usually drove westward all the way home, I found myself squinting into the glare, while still trying to focus on the road and continue talking to my dad. I was drifting badly now but I only had a few yard to go before reaching the safety of our driveway. Just then, up ahead of me I saw something that walked like a cat but was larger than a dog; but he didn’t have a tail. Without having any sunglasses, the image was difficult to see. My mind began spinning around all possibilities. My dad had thought he lost me because I had become quiet, so he began shouting again. Then the thought hit me; BEAR! I shouted back at my dad as I pulled even with the spot where the bear had crossed the road and run into the woods and jumped out of the car to follow him.

My dad screamed, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!”

“Going to go see where the bear went,” I shouted back.

“GET BACK IN THE CAR YOU DUMMY!!!” he shouted back.

Suddenly aware of what I was doing, I paused. “Oh, yea, that’s probably not a good idea is it,” I said, returning to my car, looking back over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed.

“Are you sure you weren’t just hallucinating,” my dad asked after I got back in the car.

“I don’t know..I don’t think so,” but then I really wasn’t sure; the sun in my eyes, exhausted, nearly dead tired and barely awake, it could have been anything.

I never saw the bear again. A couple weeks later I overheard some folks at the local diner who lived about three miles away from me as the crow flies, talking about shooting a bear that had broken into their chicken coop and killed several chickens. So I knew then I hadn’t seen things that morning; the bear had been real.

Now Pastor David probably thought I was one of those people that seemed to be difficult to get away from last Thursday morning; someone who could talk forever. He didn’t realize that after we had discussed our business that I continued to keep him on the phone in order to help “talk me home”. Each time the conversation would wane, I could tell he was trying to sign off, so I would bring up another topic to keep him on the line. It had been a extremely mentally taxing night at work so I definitely needed his support, so he became my unknowing but very willing lifeline. I realized later after I safely pulled into my garage, not having drifted off one time that morning that I was very thankful for the Pastor’s conversation.

Then the thought dawned on me, “It probably wasn’t the first time he’s talked someone home.”jesus1

As a Pastor, I’m sure David has talked to many people in times of need and probably event talked a few folks home, on to Glory. Leading folks to Christ, giving them the opportunity to guarantee their place in Heaven; thus, leading them home, is a 24×7 calling for anyone in the ministry. Thus, I would imagine that both leading to Christ and soothing someone as they pass through those Eastern gates are both examples of how our preachers can literally “Talk Us Home”.

However, talking someone home is something Jesus asked us all to do to, not just the clergy. We were all entrusted with the faith and Holy spirit to evangelize to the ends of the earth his Word. To talk someone home, to tell them the story of Jesus Christ and how he died for our sins, we look to Romans 10:9-13 which tells us, “That if you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. 10 For with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation. 11 For the Scripture says, “Whoever believes on Him will not be put to shame.”[f] 12 For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek, for the same Lord over all is rich to all who call upon Him. 13 For “whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

So someday, either early in the morning or any other time during the day, if you get called by someone who needs you to “Talk Me Home” be ready for it will be up to you to save a friend in need.

The only thing you have to do is answer that call.

Are you ready?

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Strength in Knowing…

 

“No weapon formed against you shall prosper, And every tongue which rises against you in judgment You shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, And their righteousness is from Me,’ Says the Lord.”

– Isaiah 54:17

 

Discovery of ancestral wonders are one thing, but to find that these same wonders where miracles of faith often cause me to take pause and reflect upon what is important in life; thus was the result of my recent journey to Valdese this past weekend. When we decide to led God take control of our lives and allow Him to lead us, the possibilities are often mind blowing and life altering. No matter how many times I hear the stories of sacrifice and torture of those ancient Christians, I cannot help to feel somewhat guilty for not having to struggle to practice my faith, as they did. But as time goes on, I feel led to take up the spiritual arms because whether we realize it or not, our faith is once again under attack.

Last year when attending the festival for the first time, I met and heard stories from people I had never met before; making lots of new friends and acquaintances along the way. This year was much the same, finding more connections and learning new details about our ancient past. My first such encounter was meeting the family of David and torrepellice1Kathleen Pra. They had attended our Festival of Faith after having learned earlier in the day that they too were from the Waldensian valleys of the Cottien Alps. David shared with me how he and his family, had found their way into the ministry, not knowing of their ancestral background. Like my experience last year, they were swimming in the flood of information that hits you when you realize who and where you came from.

The very next day at the “Authentic Waldensian” meal hosted by the Waldensian Presbyterian church, amazingly enough we met again, both us finding a very unique individual in attendance as well, Lucas Pinole. Lucas was here as an exchange student from the College in Torre Pellice, Italy. He was in Valdese to learn more about Valdese Waldensians. Fortunately for the Pras and I, we would soon learn more about ourselves than we had imagined.

As we walked into the vast fellowship hall, with people filling every possible seat at the dining tables, David saw us enter and began motioning for us to join them. He introduced us to Lucas, and explained who he was and where he torrepellice2was from. Mostly all I heard was, “He is from the valleys.” Lucas was still having a conversation with an elderly gentleman as we took our seats, but with the noise of all the voices in the hall combining I could not tell what they were saying. When I finally was able to understand them, they had actually began speaking in English. What I didn’t realize was that they had been talking in the ancient tongue of the valleys, the “Potswa”. Lucas explained to the elderly gentleman the differences between the “Local Potswa” versus the “Germanic Potswa”, with the local flavor being more indigenous to those valleys. The elderly man spoke the local flavor, meaning he had not had the chance to speak to anyone in this native tongue in quite some time and was obviously moved by his brief experience; this was a day of exultations of the moment for many. I wanted to hear more, but the man and the conversation moved on, as did time. I was instantly enthralled by this young man and his obvious linguistic abilities. By the end of the weekend I would realize he was as much a Waldensian as any, like one of the originals, living breathing the Word in his everyday life.

After the introductions, we were seated and continued the informational ride of a lifetime. Lucas told me how he had been reading my book and that he was really enjoying it. He then went on to tell me that I could learn about the “Tron” family even further by contacting the Waldensian Heritage Museum in Torre Pellice. He said that nowadays, there are many Trons, and that finding our ancestral roots would be quite easy once we got to the Museum’s archives. We continued talking about the valleys and how excited we were to meet someone from that region. We then turned back to the linguistics, with Lucas recalling what he had discussed with the elderly gentleman whom I had overheard when first sitting down. He then told David that his last name “Pra” meant “valley of” in Potswa.

Curious, I asked, “Well, if Pra means something does my name mean anything?”

Lucas replied, “Well, in fact, yes it does.”

I grabbed the edge of the table and jokingly said, “Ok, let me brace for this.”

All our lives as children we had grown up wondering what our name might mean in German, since that is where we thought we had immigrated from. One of my cousins teased that Tron sounded like “throne” and that instead of a royal throne; we were more likely from the bathroom throne. We never found our answer in the German-English dictionary. Even after finding Walldorf and the Heimat museum, there was no discussion like this; what our name meant. So here I sat, after a lifetime of not knowing there was even a meaning to our family name, yet with the answer about to roll of the lips of the young man who was just hours away from having left those ancient valleys from which we once had come,  sitting next to me.

I closed my eyes and said, “Ok, go ahead I’m ready. Let’s hear it.”

Lucas respectfully laughed, as did the others at the table, and he continued in a sober tone, “We’ll actually the name “Tron” has a very respectable meaning in Potswa. For you see,” he paused to regain the seriousness of the moment, “It was the name they often gave the soldiers, the warriors who fought to preserve the Word of the Lord, for the name literally means, ‘Man of strength’”

I let out a sigh, thinking, “Was he serious?”

“Really?” I said out loud in disbelief.

“Yes, seriously,” Lucas responded.

David responded, “Do you want to trade?”

The table erupted in laughter once more.

I shook my head no, still laughing and replied to David, “Hey, just think, the Tron are buried in your Pra.”

We all laughed even more.

Looking back now, that was my first sentence using Potswa I had ever spoken; unbeknownst to me. What was even more grounding was that the next day, when I attended the church service at the same church the meal was served in, the preacher gave a sermon on the persecution of the Waldensians. At one point, 12,000 men, women and children had been imprisoned. During that time, 9,000 of them died, as many as in all four previous centuries of struggle. Somehow, through all of that our families had survived for us to be here today to carry on the legacy.

To know that we are here because of the strength of those gone on before leads me to want to do more for the purposes for which they struggle. When I hear people discounting Christianity for sake of other religions, I hear the anguished cries of my ancestors echo off those monolithic peaks they called home. When I see Christians converting to other religions for sake of being perceived as hip or cool, another breath from that wind of antiquity is extinguished. With each footstep we allow to trod on our faith, we allow one more reason for the past to be lost. We must take of the sword of righteousness once again, standing up for who and what we are and stop giving into complacency.

We would not be here today and would not be who we are if it were not for those men and women who fought, sacrificing their very lives for what they believed and for the Word of God.

They held themselves accountable to no one but the Father above; shouldn’t we?

The reflections of this past weekend take me to a point in life where I now realize from whence I came. It is up to me to follow where He might have me go, for in his path I will follow. We must not be afraid to speak because in our silence other voices will fill the void; voices who do not share our beliefs, our faith.

Step back in time with me once more and get back to the origins of who and what we are, stop kidding yourselves with the decorations of the contemporary movement and get right with God.

You’re not fooling anyone but yourself.

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“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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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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Play Through Me In Spite of Me…

fiddlersWe’ve been attending the local Fiddler’s Conventions in our area lately with friends and family. While there are contests for various instruments and talents I’ve forgone any attempt in competing to win; rather, I have found it much more rewarding to use the opportunity as a platform. I know there are some who would say, “You shouldn’t waste your time going if your not going to compete to win.” Well, in a sense, I am competing to win, but not in the monetary sense.

Allow me to explain.

A couple weeks ago I watched a TED presentation on “Your elusive creative genius” by Elizabeth Gilbert http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html and found her lecture spoke to me quite profoundly from my Christian background. 70532_74x56What she said that struck such a chord with me was that when we are true to our faith, we become the channel, the vessel if you will, through which a power greater than ourselves can flow.  The fallacy of so many artistic minds is that we start to believe the talents we pocess are because of us, something “We” are responsible for creating. With this responsibility comes great pressure. Once you’ve created that awe inspiring masterpiece, then everything after that becomes compared to the one that made you famous. More often than not, the vaccum that follows leaves many in such states of depression that they fall into either a dependency behaviour or take their own lives. However, all of this can be avoided if we realize the source of our talents; our inspiration.

It was from this TED talk that I was reminded of how we must give God the Glory, that everything we have we owe to him. When we try to take credit for it, we are only kidding ourselves and quickly fall into that trap of thinking we are more than we really are. So when the 2013 Fiddler’s Conventions came around, I realized I had to do more than just go on stage and perform; I had to deliver a message, even if it was brief.

So each week, before the performance, and most of the times on the way to the event, I listen for God to speak to me, telling me what I am to do, what song or scripture I will share with the audience. Some weeks he has told me in advance; others, I found out only minutes before. Such was this past week at the Seagrove Convnetion. Before we arried I had picked out a song I thought would be good enough, but on the way there, the idea of rewording the song, “House of the Rising Sun,” and playing it on my fiddle flashed into my brain. Upon arriving, I found my cohart and backup on stage in the recent weeks, a young man who is wonderfully talented and a great Christian, Tanner Henson. I presented to him the song and we tried it out but found neither one of us knew the chord progression on the guitar. I was about to scrap the idea unless I could find one of the many guitar virtuso’s in attendance. Just a few minutes before stage time, I found Harold Pickett; one of those guitar experts. I was also wonderfully surprised to find Harold a fellow Christian as well. Soon, the gig was on.

I prayed for guidance from the Lord and told the crowd before I started that I had to sing a couple lines to the song, so that they would know where I was coming from; meaning, not the original song but the new verse I had written on the way to the convention. So, with the power of the God flowing through me, Harold Pickett on guitar, Clyde Maness on bass and myself on fiddle  performed “House of the Rising Sun” but with these words as the intro instead, “There is, a House, at the end of the street, Where we go to worship God, and many a poor boy, has waited for judgment day, to accept the Spirit of the Lord.”

After that verse, we kicked the song into overdrive and the rest was a blur. I know I couldn’t have won anything monetarily, for I could barely contain the energy that swept through my fingertips as the bow nearly flew off the strings. There was a complimentary applause following our performance, but I think most folks were just being polite. I followed up the fiddle with an old Tom T. Hall song on my guiatar, while I sang and played, “Me and Jesus“. I left the stage, shaking from the adrenaline rush that had come from the fiddle performance and prayed I had not dishonored God in any way. Afterward, all I could think of was the TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert and how it was God playing that night, not me. Regardless of how it sounded, I was more concerned that I had probably ruined my chance to touch a heart. I kept asking myself, “Did I get in the way of God?” You never know until its over if what you did was respectable in his eyes, but again, I kept the faith and carried on.

Shortly after coming off stage, just as we were about to walk out the door, a young man walked up to me and said, “Now I know who you are. Your that preacher from over around Asheboro aren’t you?” I smiled and thanked him for the compliment but told him I was not a preacher; at least not yet. I told him it was a little ironic that he ask that since I was scheduled to preach my first sermon of my book ministry at the Crestview Wesleyan Church in Asheboro on April 7th. I gave him a card and invited him to come to the service. We shook hands and parted ways.

As we walked out, I realized something special had just transpired.  As we drove home that night, I felt as if I had somewhat achieved my goal; at least one heart had been touched, even if it was a case of mistaken identity… and that was all the prize I needed.

All we ask is that he plays through us in spite of us, in God’s name we pray….Amen!

ps. We were tired and there was a lot more convention left to go when we left. We rarely stay to the end to find out who won. We found out a couple days later that my daughter had won second place in vocals when she sang, “Amazing Grace.” You can bet we were proud of her, thanks be to God!

Do you find yourself getting caught in that trap of feeling like its you, like you have to do better next time? Let me know, and better yet, let me know if you’ve touched someone’s life by something you did recently.

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Goliath and the Free Radical

goliathToday I had the feeling my life is becoming a “Free Radical”.

The book definition of a “Free Radical” is this: “Free radicals are a byproduct of normal cell function. When cells create energy, they also produce unstable oxygen molecules. These molecules, called free radicals, have a free electron. This electron makes the molecule highly unstable.” About.com Health: Longevity.

It started when I took the family with me on another God inspired mission as part of my book’s ministry. For some reason, I felt led to put my “Feet on the Pavement” and walk into some of the largest churches in our capitol city of Raleigh today.

Since last Friday my brain seems to have been set on fire. Although I had a good recuperation on Saturday, I seemed to have picked up where it left off starting on Sunday. When Monday rolled around, I was ready to make things happen. I couldn’t wait on those phone calls that weren’t being returned, I couldn’t wait on those emails that weren’t being replied too; something had to give. So, we drove into the “Big” city of Raleigh North Carolina.

As we turned the curve to enter the downtown area, the skyline is visible in a distant view, making it look like “A cardboard cut-out” as my son put it. He thought the scene before him looked “fake” but realized it would soon become quite real. The analogy was the same as I went down my list of churches that I had quickly searched before we left home. There, standing before us once we had found our parking spot, were some of the largest churches in North Carolina; some of them a full city blocks in size. Needless to say, I was beginning to doubt my aspirations. My children were simply in awe of the multi-story office buildings. They have never been to a city larger than Raleigh before, so to them, these were their skyscrapers. I had been in large churches before, but not for a purpose or reason I was searching them out today. It seemed I was David and they were the Goliath.

Before we began, I felt the need to regroup, so we headed to the Museum of History where we all took a brief restroom break and I called the offices of the churches on my list, checking to see if it would be okay for me to just drop in. All the secretaries I spoke with were very kind and welcoming; however, after speaking with them it was apparent, there would be nobody I would meet face-to-face today. I would simply be dropping off a copy of my book. I expected this and was obliged. I realize there are many complexities when running a large corporation-size church and to simply take someone’s book who walked in off the street and distribute it to your congregation is far more complicated than a simple review of said book. There are committee approvals, staff reviews and in some cases, institutional reviews required. In some instances, the church might only allow what is sold through its publishing house; thus are the intricacies of corporate Theology.

I’ve talked to people who’ve gone to such institutions and most of them have described how they felt like a “number” at times since there are so many people in attendance. Surprisingly, most of the time they are happy with that; meaning, they don’t feel like they owe anything beyond what they dropped into the collection plate. That spiritual high they felt last Sunday was all part of the show, and that’s it.

For some reason, I’m not wired to accept that. My electron has been pushing the outer edge of its orbit for some time now.

So when I finally found the open door to these monolithic institutions, it was no surprise when we met the secretaries on duty, they said pretty much what I had expected. The people who made the decisions were either not here or would require a multi-level approval before anything would be considered. I was very thankful to each of them. After all, I was thankful just to be allowed to enter into their offices and leave a copy. If I had tried to email, write or mail a hard copy of my book, I wouldn’t have known whose hands or what department it might have landed in, if at all. So as I left each beautiful sanctuary of faith, I felt somewhat successful.

Yet, there was a new feeling of old I hadn’t expected; an ancient memory.

Here I was, a humble fledgling author, led by God to write a book I had never expected to pen, searching out institutions that had been years, even centuries in the making. Their vast resource libraries and highly educated theological staffs were so much greater than what I represented, in my mind, that I felt as small and irrelevant as did my children walking down the street between buildings that reached high into the blue cloudless sky.

My thoughts raced back to the time of my ancestors and suddenly it hit me.

They too would have had the same sense of being so insignificant when compared to the Holy Roman Catholic church; the same church who forbid them to preach the Gospel on their own. However, unlike them, I was not in fear for my life; I was merely looking at possibly only wasting an afternoon, not losing my life. Yet, the similarity of the massive institution, so large that it had to succumb to legalities, formalities and rites of passage required from years of applied perceptions and beliefs that it could not accept one man’s ministry of its own merit, regardless if it met all biblical teachings and beliefs relevant to the institution for which they represented. Time had come full circle and I was now facing the Goliath of my ancestors.

As we drove home after enjoying a wonderful home-cooked meal from the State Farmer’s Market Restaurant, I reflected on the journey we had just taken. I had but for a fleeting moment experienced a similar feeling as those long ago Waldensians. My experience was only a fraction of what they struggled through for multiple generations, each one passing on to the other the Word of God and their burning desire to evangelize to the world around them. Each passing day, I feel the need to do more, more than is expected. I feel the reigns of the institution I currently call home falling away and my release, my “Free Radical” moment becoming a reality.

Where I am going, if anywhere?

I don’t know. I’m going to leave that to the one who sent me to Raleigh today. After all, he was there when David slew the giant. I know he’ll be there when my day comes as well.

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