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by | January 26, 2020 · 9:43 pm

Spirits in the Sky

This evening, the news of a famous retired basketball player dying in a helicopter crash has caused many in our nation to take pause. He was only 41. His life, one of a truly, gifted and amazing athlete, was followed by wealth and fame. Sadly, it is now all gone. What will remain are the memories and legacies to which he may have imparted; be they good or bad, as a two-edged sword, we may never know.

Each morning we awaken, we are afforded another precious gift; another day of life. We should never take one of them for granted, for we never know when this may be our last.

Today I was afforded the blessing of meeting a friend at a church on the mountain, one that he was looking at possibly joining in the future. As I drove along the winding road, there was much to reflect upon. Overhead, the skies were a crystalline clear as the John’s river’s icy waters. Their reflection of earth’s outer sphere, like a deep cerulean blue, gave the rising sun something with which to compete for the beauty and majesty. As my car drove up the mountain, the sunrise cast long shadows behind me, forcing darkness in pockets upon the eastward facing slopes; behind them, the veil of white lay waiting. As I made the crest of the mountaintop, the morning’s first light made the snow-covered forest come alive. Like a multitude of angels at Jesus’ birth, so too were the trees enshrouded by the luminescence of an untold number of diamond-like snowflakes.

Here and there around each bend, chimneys spewed forth slender columns of woodsmoke, each rising like tendrils into that azure blueness above. Each a signal of life within. Inside the humble cabins, the morning coffee had begun to percolate as the fire cracked and popped. Somewhere nearby, bacon sizzled in a cast-iron skillet. Some would be preparing for church while others would simply be rising to live another day of life, one with the hope of a tomorrow and the other just wishing there was one.

For every portion of living, there is a double-edged sword with which we must contend. One side of the blade, as my friend put it, is Mercy; the other side Justice. Life cannot have one without the other. Justice without mercy is a formidable and a fearsome judgment to any who have received it. Mercy without justice is like giving freedom without having any fear of retribution; there is nothing for which to be freed if there is nothing for which to fear. Yet, God hath given us a sword for which the balance between justice and mercy is perfectly balanced. In fact, on the traditional broadsword, the center of the sword is slightly raised, giving height to the intersection of the two opposing sides, taking the high road, if you will.

Through God’s love for us, we are afforded the perfect balance of Justice and Mercy. For with each gradual trial we weather, by His Grace, we grow stronger in our faith. For if we find ourselves facing the proverbial headwinds in our daily walk with Christ, we must know that we are going in the right direction. For faith without trials is a faith untested. “Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you: But rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy.”[1]

Just as each edge of the blade could be considered to stand for justice and mercy, so too could they stand for Thoughts and Intent of the human soul. “For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.”[2]

Just as the word of God is quick and powerful, so too are its intention. Like a playbook on how to live life, its instructions are clear, succinct, and powerful. Yet, to the unbeliever, the words are only that, just printing on the page. As God spoke through the prophet Jeremiah, “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”[3] He gave us Christ, with whom we were spared eternal damnation and the expected end we deserved, with that ultimate justice; his death was the punishment for our sins.

To the unbeliever, the Bible is nothing more than theory; conjecture of good intentions.

As I was speaking to one of our department’s professors this week, the difference between theory and application came to mind. While we are immersed in the pursuit of education at our institutions of higher learning, most of what we achieve is theory. It is not until we go out into the “Real” world, get jobs, and start careers that we actually apply that theory. That application becomes the tools of whatever industry we pursue, sometimes for the rest of our lives. However, God has allowed me to return to the place from whence I began so long ago. As I listened to the very well-meaning professor describe the course layout, I found my mind jumping from the theory he was describing to the applications I had used in my nearly two decades of working in the industry. From that life of experience, from the applying of theory, I once more made the jump back to the present and was able to interpret his descriptions, but far from the conventional line of thought to which he was used to instructing.

For those of you who have learned or are trying to learn to speak a foreign language, you can relate. You at first have to think of the foreign word’s meaning in your mother tongue and then speak the foreign word. Slowly, as you become more proficient, eventually, you can skip the literal translation because you just know the foreign word, has finally become one of your own, no longer foreign. So too is the word of God. Like many who are lost and haven’t come to know or accept Christ into their lives, the words in the Bible are only that; words. But Jesus told his followers that they would not be alone; that he would send a Comforter. He also said that he would never leave us nor forsake us. That Comforter, that being with whom he spoke, was to be the Holy Spirit.

Through the Holy Spirit, we are made anew, “And that he died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him which died for them, and rose again. Wherefore henceforth know we no man after the flesh: yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we him no more. Therefore, if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. And all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation; To wit, that God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them; and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation. Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ’s stead, be ye reconciled to God.”[4]

From whence we came, is to which we shall return. For once we have walked in the way, we are made anew, and from there, we can speak to those who have yet to find the way, the truth, and the light. From our experience in the application of the word, we have become wiser, and with this wisdom, we are then able to help those who are lost. “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and unbraideth not; and it shall be given him.”[5] From theory, as some may say, to become one with the Father through the power of the Holy Spirit, we are changed. Walking in Christ, we are no longer living in theory, but rather, in the application of what it was meant to be, where Justice and Mercy meet in that high rounded middle of the blade, to which nothing can prevail; neither spirit nor soul.

As the finger-like wafts of smoke rise into the morning sky from their hand-hewn stone chimneys below, so soar the spirits of many who have breathed their last. Don’t go another day without seeking out that friend, that neighbor, or even that family member who might be lost. Seek them with all your heart.

And remember, for, by the Grace of God, we go.

We are all but a heartbeat away from eternity.

Live each day as if it were the most precious gift. You never know when it will be your last.

Thanks be to God.

[1] 1 Peter 4:12-13 KJV

[2] Hebrews 4:12 KJV

[3] Jeremiah 29:11 KJV

[4] 2 Corinthians 5:15-20 KJV

[5] James 1:5 KJV

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by | January 7, 2020 · 9:31 pm

The Open Door

Once more, my life has returned to the open door, once discovered nearly half a century ago.

It was an unexpected, but welcome visit from one of our department’s professors. He had stopped by merely to say hello; a cordial inclusion if you will. Since starting my new position in life, many of my colleagues, with whom I serve, have had little time for fellowship with the end of the semester and then the Christmas break all occurring so quickly it seemed. Since we are still now in the stretch of time that precedes a new semester, there is finally time to learn about one another. There are no students, no final grades due, just a few staff members and faculty preparing for the coming days. The professor who had dropped in, who for now I will call Dr. Mo, seemed to be as curious about me as I was him. Our conversation traversed from pleasantries of the recent holidays to that of teaching, and life. 

After I shared with him my recent application to Graduate School, we began to talk more in-depth about how classes in the Computer Science Department are structured. Before long, we were comparing various instructional methods, albeit his from a much higher plane of learning than what I had been accustomed. It was about this point when he asked me a very profound question, one that seemed vaguely familiar. “How do you explain to a student that programming a small piece of code or project is important?”

The question in fact, reminded of something one of my former High School students might say. It could easily be considered the bane of thought that all High School Math teachers hated to hear, probably the most irritating question heard, “When am I ever going to use this?”  We knew that the question originated at home, because our students often told us that their parents were of the same mindset. So, the disdain for learning something that has apparently no useful value in life is not simply a secondary level education problem, from what I was hearing. It was something that permeates our culture no matter the level or institution. 

Dr. Mo then asked, “How would you tell them it matters?”

The answer swirled around in my head amongst a hundred examples, all of which seemed to point to the obvious – sometimes the big picture is difficult to see when you are in the middle of the forest. Yes, the answer was there, but something else was speaking to me at the same time. “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.[1]

Suddenly, in my mind, that ancient door opened and I stood up. 

We had so badly wanted to go see what all the ruckus had been about. For a couple days, machines and men had been working on the demolition of the now deceased widow Mrs. Wolfe’s home. Her husband, the late Dr. Wolfe, had died long before I was born, so we never knew much about who he was or how he came to be a Doctor. To us, his legacy was simply the sweet, old Mrs. Wolfe, who too, was now gone forever. One by one, the elders of our little farming community of New Harmony, Indiana were disappearing, and with them a way of life.

Word was that the historical society had purchased her home and that they were going to knock the stately old house down and rebuild something in the style of the rest of the other historic homes in town. The historical society and the common townspeople always seemed to be at odds. The former with their sophisticated overbearance of wanting to create a “Shangri La”, if you will, where people could come from far and wide to escape the stresses of life. Here in this Midwest utopia, they could learn of the Rappites, a failed social concept, and how they too merely meant to find a place where work and God could comingle. In the end, their demise became the inspiration for the more recent history seeking philanthropists’ desires. Meanwhile, the farmers of the area merely sought to feed their families. Slowly, we watched as our little agricultural town was gutted, the elitists eroding what once had been a thriving farming community. The destruction of Mrs. Wolfe’s home was simply another casualty in the unspoken class war.

Just the summer or so before, Mrs. Wolfe had asked my grandma if any of her grandchildren might be able to cut her grass. My grandma had quietly pulled me aside one afternoon asked me if I could help out her elderly neighbor. You see, to us grandkids, it was an honor to have grandma pull you aside to ask you to do anything for her. So, I was beside myself when I learned that grandma wanted me to help out her dear elderly neighbor. It was a sunny summer day when I pulled the aged push mower across the pasture. We never had a lot of contact with Mrs. Wolfe, but what little we did, we always came away feeling blessed. That particular day was no different. After the last strip of grass was mowed, I shut down the mower and went back to pick up the can of gasoline near the front porch. Mrs. Wolfe had come to the door and motioned me to come over. I peevishly walked up to her as she leaned out the heavy wooden front door. “Come here now,” she said smiling sweetly. “You take this,” she motioned waving the paper money at me. 

“No m’aam,” I responded, “I didn’t’ do it for that.”

She wouldn’t have any of my righteous posturing, and her eyebrows furrowed, “Now you come here and take this,” she said, in a sterner voice. “You can take some of your cousins to town and get a treat at least.” 

She knew my weakness, doing for others, and with that, I apprehensively walked up and took the money. It shocked me to see the entire $5.00 bill in my hand. It seemed like the most money I had ever seen at one time, and in those days, probably was. Shocked, I backed away, thanking her profusely as she closed the door smiling broadly. 

“You tell your grandmother thank you for me,” she said loudly through the glass of the door. 

“Yes m’aam,” I quipped, as I raced off to show grandma the newfound wealth. Grandma wasn’t happy about the money, but she eventually softened to our pleading, and we made that little jaunt to the dime store in town later that day for a sweet treat. 

Now, just a couple years removed, our pleading convinced grandma to let us have our way once more, and we soon found ourselves exploring the piles of debris among what little was left of the former Wolfe estate. Nothing much remained, but save for piles of wood and one single door frame. As we found our way into what had one time been the living room, the one from which Mrs. Wolfe had handed me that vast sum of money, my heart became sad. Here our proud neighbors had once lived, content and stately in their home. They hadn’t imparted their societal wishes upon us, but rather chose to live in harmony with us, accepting us for who we were, and likewise, us them. 

Slowly, I walked up to the remaining door frame, with door still intact. One of my cousins called from behind, “Be careful,” as my tender, young hand reached for the door knob. Slowly, I opened the barely standing door and from within what once was the coat closet, now sat a pile of rubble. We began to pick a few chards of wood and brick off the top and much to my surprise, below the soot and dust was a pile of brown, tweed cloth covered books. We began to look through them, like archeologists in an Egyptian burial tomb, shaking our heads at the hieroglyphic shapes on the pages. The writing inside books was a mystery. There were some recognizable words, but the majority of the book was written in some alien language, complete with crazy symbols and letters we had never seen before. We each grabbed a book and raced back to our humble farmhouse to show grandma. There, we reconvened as was common, around the worn Formica covered kitchen table. We even turned on the overhead light and with studious awe, and our best intellect, tried to decipher the ancient code. 

We were as lost as a ball in high weeds. 

Grandma was even at a loss for words. She simply said, “Maybe one of you someday can figure it out,” and she left it at that. It was at that moment she had planted the seed, knowingly or not. Later that day, I would vow to my cousins that someday I was going to learn how to read that book, no matter how long in life it would take.

“You do that,” my cousin Peggy replied sarcastically with her mischievous grin.

As I stood up from my chair, Dr. Mo watched as I walked over to the bookshelf. My weathered hand reached into the array of books and pulled out a single, tweed cloth covered book titled, “Applied Mechanics.”

“You see Dr. Mo,” I said to my guest as I slowly opened the book, “sometimes the answer takes a lifetime to learn.” 

There, written inside the front cover in his own hand were the words, “property of John Wolfe.” I then shared with the professor of finding the book as a child and how I had taken the vow to someday learn how to read the funny writings inside. Those questions as to, “Why would we ever need this,” echoed in my mind as I spoke. Then, to show him the significance of the moment, I turned to the back of the book. There, carefully placed over 100 years earlier, Dr. Wolfe had placed something that was to encourage not only himself, but a young neighbor farm boy many decades later; a manually typed page, neatly folded in half, containing his test and quiz scores from the class for which the book was intended. The faded, barely visible date read, 1916-1917.

Turning to my new friend, I continued, “When we can show someone the significance of something in context, how it fits into the big picture, we can then begin to appreciate the little steps that it takes to get there.”

Dr. Mo smiled and nodded in confirmation. 

I continued, “We may not be able to explain what we see at any given point in time. Sometimes, our experience is beyond what we are capable of describing.  But with time, God provides us the wisdom to achieve a new level of comprehension. Like the prophet Ezekiel trying to describe the visions of Angels that some say more describe that of alien spaceships, he too could only use a language of which he was capable of understanding.”

I handed Dr. Mo the book so he could look at it more closely. He smiled and said, “This book is more than just a book.I t has a singular significance beyond all other books like it because of this personalization.”

“Yes,” I nodded, “indeed it does.”

And so, once more in life, I returned to that barely standing open door of the Wolfe’s ancient home. Grasping the handle, I opened it wide, without fear, for God was with me. There were no cries from leery cousins to warn me of the dangers, only the voice of God beckoning me on. “And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.”[2]

Step in with me Dr. Mo, step on in and let the light shine within.

Thanks be to God.

[1] James 1:5

[2] Romans 12:2

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by | January 5, 2020 · 9:00 pm

There is Hope in the Storm

Yesterday, as I sat and watched the thick cloud bank slowly envelope Grandfather, I was reminded of incoming tides upon ancient seas. The jetties and rocks of life, like those distant mountain peaks, were soon to be covered by the rising waters of time. Before long, he had vanished, obscured by a billowing blanket of gray, blue, and white. Grandfather Mountain was not gone, this I knew, for I had seen him. It was not necessary to hope for his existence because by seeing, we know that he is still there. Yet, we cannot foretell what the coming storms will unveil. In a manner of hours, or even days, we may see a changed mountain, one blanketed in a snowy, majestic white mantel of winter; this is the wish of many.

painting by Timothy W. Tron

With wanted anticipation, some may see the impending storm and look forward to a delay in the upcoming return to school. While others may fear what is to come knowing regardless of the road conditions, they will be expected to be at their posts or jobs. Likewise, those who walk in faith are much like those gladly seeing the possibility of winter storms; the former seeks the hope of life eternal by knowing that regardless of what the storms of life may bring, they have the hope of salvation unto our final dwelling place on high. “For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.”[1]

But just as a child, torn from their home due to circumstances which have created living conditions so dire that the state has to intervene, they seek hope to eventually return home. Yet, what they don’t fully understand is that in order for them to return home, their parents or guardians must change. The addiction or bondage to the sins of the flesh must be broken. The downward spiral of drugs, alcohol, otherworldly lusts has permeated their lives so deeply that they often have lost sight of caring for their family, if not themselves. We’ve all see the posted mug shots of convicted criminals and seen the effects of meth, just to name one, on their physical being. Inside, there remains a remnant of the human being they once were.

Somewhere within, there is a flicker of a soul.

Like those school children looking forward to the coming snowstorm,  the Apostle Paul wrote of coming storms and afflictions, “Giving no offence in any thing, that the ministry be not blamed: But in all things approving ourselves as the ministers of God, in much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, In stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labours, in watchings, in fastings;”[2] His point being, that those storms of life, the daily challenges and trials, only make us stronger Christians. Meanwhile, those of the world suffer greatly because their faith is nonexistent. There is nothing to embolden. In their despair, they seek earthly means to fill the void. The Apostle Peter wrote about them saying, “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour: Whom resist stedfast in the faith, knowing that the same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that are in the world.”[3]

Alone, those lost parents cannot conquer the darkness that holds them captive. It is by prayer and the hope of their children, the faith of which they often do not know, that they can be lifted up. These thoughtless parents reckless abandon for life is conveyed by those whose tender young hearts who are willing to still have faith. In their undying hope that their parents will change, unto the day they may return to a new home, those orphaned children never give up. Similarly, we seek faith to eventually return to our heavenly home because this world is not our home. Yet, we are not left as orphans to fend for ourselves, for our heavenly father awaits.  “That at that time ye were without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and without God in the world: But now in Christ Jesus ye who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.”[4]

Even though the parents of those orphaned children may be so lost in their sin that they don’t even realize the cause of their forced separation, nor do they know how to free themselves from the enslavement of their fleshly additions and afflictions, Christ gives us that answer. Through the power of the blood Jesus Christ shed upon the cross, we may overcome the darkness that seeks to devour our world and flood us with iniquities beyond our comprehension.

We cannot achieve this freedom alone.

In Hebrews 11:1, we are reminded that “…faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Having held true to my faith in these recent months, I can tell you from personal experience, the harder the clouds of turmoil flooded my soul, the harder I fell to my knees. There were no immediate replies. There was no blinding light that threw me off my horse and into the road. There were often days of silence. Nothingness.

“But nothing worth having is ever easy,” – Theodore Roosevelt

As the scripture tells us, “But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.” From having seen prayers answered, it is then when we start to understand how one can have “evidence of things unseen.” Prayer is one of our most powerful spiritual tools. Daniel prayed five times a day. When his enemies learned of his daily practice, they used it to entrap him which landed him in the den of lions. Daniel didn’t fear but resorted to what he knew best, prayer. His hope of release from the expected doom was his answer to faithful prayer.

As we approach a future that sometimes appears, if anything but bright, we can be reminded that there is “hope.” As we awoke this morning and the clouds had departed, Grandfather was there as the sunlight began to cast its golden rays upon his face. His crown, a mantel of snowy white, now proudly unveiled for all to see.

The storm had been weathered.

There will always be the dawning of a new day. Don’t let the darkness of the light consume you. Although it may feel as the darkest hour is just before dawn, don’t let fear overwhelm you like the storm clouds smothering Grandfather. Let the light of Christ shine upon your life, and through you, such that those around you are enlightened by the Holy Spirit within your own. Choose to be the light in a dark world, like the beautiful snow-covered peaks of Grandfather this morning, their light reflecting the sunrise, like golden shields of hope.

Tomorrow is a new day.  Rise with hope in your heart and let your light shine for all to see.

Thanks be to God.

[1] Romans 8:24-25 (KJV)

[2] 2 Corinthians 6:3-5 (KJV)

[3] 1 Peter 5:8-9 (KJV)

[4] Ephesians 2:12 (KJV)

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by | December 29, 2019 · 5:53 pm

To Vance my Buddy, Regardless…

“So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”-Psalm 90:12

Outside the Retreat, the pitter-patter of raindrops falls gently upon the rooftop. The sound is soothing to one’s soul and adds a sense of tranquility to the ambiance within. Inside, the fire warms my body, removing the damp chill from the outside. Reflectively, I sip on the hot drink while peering into the red-hot coals. The flames dance around in their anguished throttled roar while the occasional pop and hiss remind you that the scene before you is real. My mind drifts, like the puffs of smoke up the chimney, thinking of friends and colleagues of my former days.

Many faces come and go in the swirl of steam up the chimney, like their lives, several now gone, passed on. Each individual remains with me, each with their own story, each with a remnant of who they were left behind with my own being.  My good friend, Vance Dunn, who recently passed, came to mind, as he so often does. He would have dearly loved the opportunity to sit with me by the fire and discuss the many thoughts that would bounce into our heads as we supped on our warm brews. On one particular road trip, whereby we were headed to training as part of our Junior Appalachian Musicians (JAM) affiliation, we spent the several hour drive to the mountains doing just that; talking in-depth about everything and anything that popped into the stream of our conscious thought. One specific conversation that returned to me this morning was our animated discussion about vocabulary and the word “regardless” versus “irregardless.”

Vance loved to latch onto something and then to pull it back into the conversation, again and again. His observation, and probably the meaning behind the reason for which the word that percolated to the top of our discussion that day, was how many in the world of academia often try to sound more important than they are by the use of grammar that is either incorrect or absurdly unnecessary; thus, the word “irregardless.”  Many scholars maintain there is no such word as irregardless because regardless already means “without regard.”[1] Vance had an extreme disdain for professors or teachers who spoke down to their students.

The Apostle Paul would write, “For if a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself.”[2] Paul’s intention was to say more simply, “Don’t try to pretend to be something you’re not.”

Now Vance had every right with which to speak in such terms. Having been a scientist at NASA, he dealt with and helped train many of their engineers and researchers over the years. He had worked with many a person that felt their position in life was enough to warrant them respect simply by their title. Yet, he would share with me that those who walked humbly in that regard had far more impact on those with whom they dealt than the former. Vance’s intellect was far beyond what I could hope to ever achieve. In essence, he was, at least to me, a true genius. He never tried to be superior when we talked, but rather, would humor me in meaningful terms so that we would traverse life from one end of the spectrum to the other, regardless of who was listening. Once we started, when time allowed, we would literally carry on with our own geekish comical relief, much to the disdain of those that were within earshot, for hours. He conveyed to me on this day how “irregardless” wasn’t really a real word, but rather something people would utter when they wanted to sound more intellectual. So, in our effectual dialogue, we would carry on with statements like “Regardless of how irregardless something truly is, you still can’t say irregardless unless you’re holding something up to be something it isn’t, regardless of its actual meaning,” and then we would roll with laughter until tears would fill our eyes.

Paul would go on to write, “But let every man prove his own work and then shall he have rejoicing in himself alone, and not in another.”[3]

Vance proved his merit by serving his country both in the Army and then working for the Aeronautical Space Agency. He would spend his career working for NASA and eventually retire with his family to Chatham County, North Carolina, where he and I would eventually meet. He often substitute taught in the school system, filling in for those roles many would pass. Vance’s favorite predicament was walking into a High School Calculus class and picking up wherever the teacher left off. Mind you, this was years after he had touched a mathematical formula. He would always tell me, “You can always solve anything if you work it back to the root.” After studying for and eventually passing the NC High School Math Praxis myself, his words would come back to me, again and again, regardless if we hadn’t seen each other in years.

During our conversations of faith, I never quite understood where Vance stood exactly. As with most intellects, he preferred to remain aloof about his belief in God. Yet, when it came down to it, I had the sense that he honestly believed but was more skeptical of religion as a whole. As Ravi Zacharias put it, “We are not Christians because of the abominations or denominations we belong to, but whether you know Jesus Christ in your heart.” It was in these theological interactions that I sometimes felt as if Vance was questioning me not only for something to pursue intellectually but that he was actually becoming aware of seeing someone moved by the Holy Spirit. In our walk of faith, we should never fear witnessing to anyone regardless of their station in life. As Paul would convey, “Let him that is taught in the word communicate unto him that teacheth in all good things.”[4]

A few months ago, before the wheels fell off my life, I was to speak at a church back in Chatham County. It was a wonderful blessing in and of itself, to be asked to share a sermon with the Cumnock Union Church, but was equally rewarding in seeing so many brother and sisters in Christ once more. It was during this trip that God spoke to me and said that I should stop by and see my friend Vance and his family before heading home.  So, after sharing fellowship with the brethren at Cumnock, I then turned off the highway and found myself winding through the little streets of Goldston, and eventually pulling into the driveway of Vance’s family’s farm. There, one last time I sat with my old friend and shared in past experiences. Denise, his daughter, brought him out to the couch to sit and visit with me and it was then that I was struck with the reality of what time and illness had done to my friend. He had suffered in his last years from advancing Dementia and Alzheimer’s diseases. We tried to revive a minuscule portion of days gone by, but in the end, faith in God was all that remained, for my dear friend was not the man he once was. The horrific disease had taken a brilliant mind away from the shell of the man that sat before me. Inside, my heart was sobbing, but outwardly, I was thanking God for this short time together. We said goodbye, and part of me realized that this may be the last.

There had been plans to return for some other possible speaking engagements, but once the trials and afflictions began, there was nothing to do but try to survive, and as such, those events fell by the wayside.

Not long ago, I saw Denise’s post of Vance’s passing, and with it, my heart dropped. Gone was the last chance to say one more goodbye. Gone was that last chance to jokingly poke fun of so many that held themselves in such high regard, regardless if they deserved it or not. But in the end, I know that Vance found God as inspiring as he had hoped, for in the end, when he crossed into that eternal home, he found intellect beyond his own and enough time to laugh and share with those minds that would match his own.

Tonight, I am thankful for all the lives that have crossed my path in life, and especially people like my friend Vance. May we never forget them and let us pray that we carry their legacy with us, sharing with all a part of who they were for others to carry on.

Thanks be to God.

“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.”-James 1:5

[1]https://www.dictionary.com  is-irregardless-a-word

[2] Galations 6:3

[3] Galations 6:4

[4] Galations 6:5

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by | December 24, 2019 · 9:00 pm

The Gift in Swaddling Clothes

This evening, Christmas Eve to be exact, the fire in the hearth hisses and crackles at me. The warmth soothes my weary bones, like the stones upon which the firelight flickers against, warming them, bringing them back to life. Late this afternoon I took a break from wiring the Retreat and took a much overdue walk. It was an early Christmas gift to myself, you might say.

The sky was a perfect Carolina blue with the sunlight filtering through the barren branches of the forest. My body felt sluggish, not something I had remembered in recent times. From the recent medical prognosis, it was apparent that I would never be as fast or as strong as I once was physically. Those sub-five-minute miles will only be a memory from now on (unless, of course, I’m driving in a car). In fact, as the saying goes, “I’ll never be as good as I once was.” It wasn’t quite the gift I had expected. As my weary legs finally carried me back to the Retreat, I was thankful just to have been able to walk along the whispering creeks and waterfalls.

The family was still gone on some last-minute Christmas Eve errands. So many spent the recent days hurrying and fretting over preparations for the perfect day when family and friends will fill their homes. I was thankful to be free of that burden and able to relax for a change. Back inside my little cabin in the woods, I stoked the fire back to a roar and sat back sipping on a hot brew As the burgeoning flames cracked and popped, my mind pondered the recent scripture that would not leave my head; from the book of Luke. It is probably the most quoted gospel this time of year.

From the point when Mary has received the direction of the Arch Angel Gabriel, to the immaculate conception, there is a story within itself. “And the angel answered and said unto her, The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God.”[1] Like the spark that lights the fire, the hand of God came upon Mary, and in that instant, the being of God in the form of human flesh began to develop in her fetus. The “Most High” overshadowed her. The Greek word for “overshadow” is comprised of two words, which basically describe a cloud of energy that enveloped Mary, at which point, Christ was literally conceived. To understand in our simple humanness is more than a struggle. Yet, the indescribable doesn’t stop there.

Later, when Mary and Joseph reach Bethlehem, as it was foretold, Jesus would be born in a lowly manger, a trough from which animals eat. Remember the prodigal son and how it was described that he fell so far that he literally ate out of the same troughs as the pigs which he tended. Our Lord and Savior was born in such a condition, in a feeding trough. And when Mary had wrapped him in swaddling clothes, rags if you will, he was ready to receive the many guests that would soon arrive.

Unbeknownst to Mary and Joseph, out in the neighboring fields of Bethlehem, shepherds were standing watch over their flocks at night, when another Angel came to them. Now before I jump into the scripture that you have probably heard a thousand times, allow me to precede it with something that you may have never thought of before.

As I have already alluded, this was not just a common birth. This was literally God being born for the first time ever, in the form of human flesh. It was a sentinel moment in the history of God. This was a moment in eternity in which the significance, although entirely missed by the spiritual leaders of the time, would so impact the entirety of Glory above that it would be as if all of heaven’s Angels, for a moment, would stop everything and come to earth to attend the birth of a Savior, the son of God. For the first time in all of creation, God was coming to earth, to be born of a lowly handmaiden, in a stable. Had those Pharisees and Jewish leaders understood the prophecies of which they supposedly had learned so well, they too could have joined the unimaginable moment with all of creation, but they would not. They would be lost to the moment and forever because of their unbelief. What they would miss would be the gift of a lifetime, of an eternity. God would come to earth to live and die like one of his own creation’s so that he would feel our pain, know our suffering so that when he would eventually defeat death, and his blood would flow freely down the cross, we would know that God had given us the most precious gift mankind would ever know; His Son.

Now, reread the scripture with that picture in your mind, “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.”[2]

Notice how the shepherds feared the initial Angel and how it comforted them until they were somewhat at ease. It was then, once they had been calmed that the enumerable multitude of Heavenly hosts appeared before them. So great was the light that it could be seen beyond the local pastures of Bethlehem. Luke would later recall, in separate writings, how many philosophers, scientists, and spiritual leaders would recall seeing the bright light in the sky and how each of them would separately interpret the scene. Imagine the lowly shepherds, uneducated, poor, and of simple faith, and how their hearts might have stopped but for a moment in awe at the sight before them; the heavens filled with Angels on high. The angelic illumination was so bright that the mere mortal shepherds would have nearly been blinded, without and within. They literally had been moved beyond belief as can be seen by the following passage.

“And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.”[3]

These men, who were in charge of other men’s flock, left their post and ran into town. The mere fact that they abandoned their livelihood to seek out the babe in swaddling clothes would tell you of their sheer panic. Adrenaline rushing through their veins, they sought the length of the city for the child.  They didn’t stop until they found him. When they finally reached the stable, covered in sweat, breathing heavily, they hesitantly entered, knowing that this was no normal child for which they were to admire. There before them, glowing underneath the watchful eye of his mother, was the babe of whom the Angel had spoken. Mary had instinctively picked up her baby to protect him when this mass of strangers began to enter the stables. But to her disbelief, they now fell at her feet and began to worship her child. They would eventually share with her and Joseph the reason for the worship and awe of the infant child. From there, the shepherds would not stop. They would leave the stable and go far and wide sharing their story. Eventually, they would return and share with her the wonderful reactions and praises for which the Christ child had heralded. Mary’s head had to be spinning at all that had transpired in just a matter of months. She had gone from a simple peasant to the mother of the Son of God. She had to be dreaming, she might have told herself more than once. And as you can imagine, “But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”[4]


Luke’s interview with Mary and her recanting this story, as it was likely shared with her many times by those exact shepherds, so impacted Luke, a physician, that he kept it just as it was told to him. In fact, all of the story, from the immaculate conception to the birth is recounted through the eyes of this glorious and wonderful physician, as he was known in his time. That being said, you can now perhaps better understand the significance of the timeline for which these events took place. Perhaps, even more, that you may think about this precious gift we all have been given, even now, as the realm for which God gave his only begotten Son so that any who should believe shall be saved.

Tomorrow, if not already, you will hopefully have family and friends over to open gifts and to celebrate Christmas. When the wrapping paper is finally collected, and everyone has had time to contemplate their gifts, both given and received, some may take time to reflect upon the reason behind the most significant holiday on our calendar, at least to most people. If allowed, ask them to listen for a moment, and share with them something special. Share with them the greatest story ever told.

In life, we reach a point when we only reduce our biological stability, perhaps maintaining for a while, but eventually, we will slow a few more steps, rise a bit slower, and recall even less. Yet, through it all, we should be thankful in our daily walk, no matter the struggles, and remember that we have been given the most precious gift known to man. Nearly 2000 years ago, a present was wrapped in swaddling clothes and placed in a manger, not under a tree. Those who were there to receive did not need to unwrap their gift to know its importance.

Tomorrow, pause for a moment and give thanks to God above for the greatest gift of all.

Thanks be to God.

[1] Luke 1:35

[2] Luke 2:8-15

[3] Luke 2:16-18

[4] Luke 2:19

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by | November 30, 2019 · 9:57 pm

Are You Blessed?

 “Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed”-John 20:29

We stood in a circle. Our right hands made into fists as our arms were extended into the middle of the circle, like the hub of a human wheel, one placed upon the other as each of us bowed our heads in prayer. The boys like to call the configuration the “popcorn prayer,” a term they coined on their own. With the first of the young men that began, the next would continue the prayer until it came around the circle to the last person.

Crossnore Children’s Home

In the past, we would have had a morning devotional before going to breakfast, followed by a closing prayer. But this day was different, it was late Sunday afternoon. Unlike the times before, today they asked that we all pray together before we said our final goodbyes. In unison, they asked that I close us out by saying the last prayer.

It was one of the most poignant moments of my life, humbling to the core; it was their last request.

I had come to say goodbye, a goodwill gesture that was sincerely from the heart. It had been a tumultuous month, one that had left me more than tired. Several weeks earlier, when I had shared with my supervisor that God was leading my life’s journey away from Crossnore, I also asked that if they needed any extra help, I told him that I would be willing to fill in if needed. He thanked me for that offer.

At Crossnore, there is always a need.

And so, after many sleep-deprived and beleaguered days, my footsteps carried me one last time from one end of the Crossnore campus to the other. Those young men had left an undeniable mark upon my heart. For many of the children at Crossnore, their pasts are much like our own, better left behind. Many are at the home because of no fault of their own, and with that, you immediately seek to find the source of the mindset that acts out in ways that are not normal; because if anything, the trauma through which they have survived are anything but normal. It was because of this and much more that I couldn’t leave without at least letting them know that I would miss them.

Along my path that somber Sunday afternoon, the majestic oaks that had at one time provided comforting shade during the hotter months, had now given way to become barren, twisted towering bones, reaching to the azure blue sky above. They too, showed empathy for my departure, like elders who had seen so many come and go, telling me in their own way that they would forever be with me. The chilly winds blew leaves across my path as I made it to the all teen boy’s cottage. Many would prefer another assignment than to have to deal with young men at their age.

My own experience was quite different.

From the outset, once they realized I wasn’t going to be a push-over, we began to connect. One might wonder if it had been the many years of working with the Scouts that allowed me to understand them? Perhaps you might ask, was it because of the time spent working with the Junior Appalachian Musician program? Or, maybe, you might conjecture, it was teaching High School math to teens their age that helped me cope? Whatever the reason one might attribute my connection to those boys, I believe it was the hand of the Lord who had put me there for that season, as short as it may have been. The reason I felt it was God, was because it wasn’t until I asked to share the devotional with them that I could see something new; a change in their demeanor toward my presence. It was when one of the young men-(the one that had been there the longest, over 6 years to be exact)- opened up to me, that their reactions began to make me take notice. They said that because of his years of tenure at the home, he had become so hardened that he would purposely keep you at bay, knowing that before long, you too would fall by the wayside.

Who could blame him?

He had seen so many come and go. And up to that point, he could have just as well said the same thing about me. But when he would purposely make it a point to greet me or go out of his way to tell me to have a nice day, it became apparent that God had moved him, through me, in spite of who I was. All of these thoughts swirled around in my head like the fallen leaves upon the ground that cold, blustery afternoon.

There had been so much to contemplate. For if the walk had been days, there would have been enough recent memories and experiences to occupy my thoughts the full breadth of the journey.

Recently, one of my new colleagues at the college asked, “How are you today?”

I replied, as I so often do these days, “I am blessed, I hope you are?”

He then later asked what I had meant by the word “Blessed.”

The question stopped me in my tracks.

My mind flashed back to the beginning of the summer and the terrible drought, and trials that my life had encountered. Through the loss of a job, loss of income, loss of medical coverage, to the near-fatal illness, to the days of unanswered prayers. The doubts and troubles piled up like logs against the bridge when the river rises. One by one, their pressure building until they either burst through or until they are swept over the bridge by higher waters. My life had become that bridge, inundated by the flooding trials that seemed to come, one after the other, each one building upon the other. At one point, the bad news had become so common that it became laughable. “Just how much more could one take and still survive,” I began to ask? My life began to feel a little like Job in the struggles, and a lot like Joseph at the bottom of the dry well; there was nowhere to go but up.

Then, like once before in my life when it seemed as if all hope was lost, God answered. I don’t recall the exact day or time, but there was a sense that only a few may know or understand. Like a warm wave cascading over your soul, the feeling of things that are about to change washes over you, and it is then that you know deep in your heart that it is going to be okay. It’s moments like that when Hebrews 11:1 makes perfect sense, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

My sweet co-teacher, Mrs. Rush, said it best last year when she was trying to comfort me about having to leave the school when she said, “God is going to answer your prayers in a way that is going to be far greater than your wildest expectations.” She continued, “The answer won’t come soon, but rather, it will probably be at the last moment when you feel like all hope is gone. It is then that He will finally give you an answer.”

She was as prophetic as anyone I have ever known. Was God speaking through her? I don’t know, but to this day, I have to believe he was.

To answer my colleague, my mind dug through those countless days of anguish and despair, and the words began to form. They had to pass through the filter of that prayer with those boys in the Cottage as we all stood around in the circle and prayed. The memory of what happened during that prayer still lingered in my soul.

From the bottom of my feet, the sensation began. As God poured the words through my lips, the Holy Spirit began to fill my body like a pitcher is filled from the bottom up. The electricity began to rise through my legs, torso, and eventually put my arm into the pile of hands. The words continued to speak as my entire body began to tremble. Attempting to retain my composure, I pressed on, asking God for this moment to never end. “They have to feel this,” my mind reflected while scriptures began to flow from my heart and out my mouth. The warmth of tears streaming down my face began to mix with the emotions in my voice until we finally said, “Amen.”

As I stepped back, wiping the tears from my eyes, the emotional toll was not just my own, for it was apparent in their eyes as well. My head was spinning as I tried to find a way to say goodbye. Once more, there was yet another reason to never forget, as they asked for a hug. In my heart, the pain of saying goodbye was a burden that must have shown. One of the boys raced to his room and brought out one of his most cherished items, a UNC flag. In the spur of the moment, I asked if we could have them all sign it, “As a memento,” I said. They all happily agreed, and each one took great care to make sure their name was visible. In a way, it was as if they wanted to make that indelible mark upon my heart; one, like the permanent marker upon the flag, that would never fade away.

Those multitudes of thoughts swirled around in my head as my colleague must have wondered why it was so difficult to answer a simple question about what I meant by being ‘Blessed.’ It was as Jesus had said to Thomas at that moment when he finally realized that he as standing in the presence of our risen Savoir. After putting his hand through the hole in Jesus’ side, his head suddenly became faint. The room began to spin. Stepping back, trying to regain his balance, he stared in awe at Son of Man, God in the flesh, who had now defeated death. He was speechless. Jesus said to him, “Because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”

Yes, blessed are we that have not seen and yet have believed. But this was only one part of being blessed to which Christ spoke The sermon on the mount was full of blessings, enough to know that when we walk with Him, when we realize we have found our path only because He has led us upon it, it is then we truly know that we are blessed.

To my colleague, I finally said that one should be thankful for being in a place to which they had never realized they would be in life, by no cause or fault of their own.

He respectfully nodded in response.

To live or die is gain, and to know Him, Christ, our Savior, is to be blessed beyond measure.

To all things we should be grateful, and most importantly,

Thanks be to God.

“And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was set, his disciples came unto him:

And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying,

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.

Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.”-Matthew 5:1-11

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by | August 7, 2019 · 10:37 pm

Learning to Lean

“For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.”- 2 Cor.4:17-18

The afternoon storms brought blinding rain, blowing in gales of white sheets of water, tossing the canopy of the forest like waves upon the ocean. From my vantage point on the porch, the sounds of drops of water from that storm still find their path to the forest floor, one leaf after another; a continuous soothing sound of liquid falling in soft echoes. The remnants of the storm that had preceded this evenings chorus, the tumult long ago swept away by the currents in the sky, now are only a mere shadow of its former self. The fearful tempest had given way to the calming collections of water cascading from the treetops in a never-ending cycle of life. What once was a frightening scene had given way to one of peace.

Our lives can be much like this very scene; the incomprehensible tempest that eventually gives way to a calm in its wake. We try to wrap our minds around how out of control our lives can seem at one moment, and then within a few hours or days, it is as if nothing ever happened.

This past couple of weeks, my life has been very much like today’s thunderstorm; a physically debilitating illness so severe that there was no leaving the bed for several days for the sake of the pain. Then afterward, a slow, wayward climb back to normalcy; a calming effect of what life had once been; the new norm.

Sometimes our afflictions seem anything but light.

 The fever that began a couple Saturdays ago was unusual in that there were no other signs of infection; no lymph nodes swollen, no rashes, nothing to indicate a cause. Everyone suggested Rocky Mountain Spotted fever, or even perhaps Lyme Disease. The doctors searched, one blood test after another; nothing gave any indications other than the obvious facts of white blood cell counts falling daily, and blood platelets disappearing faster than my weary body could produce them. Finally, the Oncologists provided insight as he stood before me with a medical chart in hand. Before he began, my thoughts flashed to my friend and brother in Christ, and the battle he still fights daily. Not long ago, that friend sat in an office much like the one I was in at the time and heard the heart-wrenching news of finding out he had Leukemia. He and his wife are always in my prayers, and Leukemia was something that had definitely been on my mind. So, as I sat there listening, the doctor was nearly giddy with the news, as he conveyed that my results did not indicate cancer. We both smiled. The bad news was that the illness was pointing to some type of insect-borne disease; the results of tests that would identify the source wouldn’t be available for several more weeks. What friends and family had suggested had yet to be ruled out. So, finally, with a prescription for an antibiotic, I went home and began to recover within 24 hours of the first dose. It had been a mere precaution from the Oncologists but proved to be precisely what was needed; as the Oncologist would say later, there definitely been some type of infection.

Tonight, as the calming sounds of the raindrops comfort my weary body, the thought of the verse in Corinthians makes more sense. The light afflictions of our daily lives, unlike those that Christ suffered for our sake, are mere stepping stones to what our Savior has waiting for us in eternity. Even the extreme fevers, which may only be for a moment in time, when compared with the extent of our earthly life, are just another trial through which we persevere. Sometimes we survive the tempest to reach the evening that follows of complicit temperatures and pleasant sounds of soothing raindrops softly falling in the forest. When we battle through the spiritual wars in our life, much like the ferocity of thunderstorms, we are left wondering if our boat will capsize and all will be lost. It is in these tempests that we learn to lean on Him.

Day after day, we must remind ourselves that we are not alone, nor does He want us to go it alone. As Paul wrote, “When I am weakest, it is then He, my God, is the strongest.” For myself, the most difficult part is remembering to lean on Him. So often we allow our human nature to take over, and we strive to “make it happen.” I hear friends tell me that they sometimes don’t think they can go another day, that their job is just too demanding, that the workload is more than they can bear. It is then that I ask, “Have you asked Him for help? Are you leaning on your Savior, or are you trying to do it all alone?” I know from my own perspective, I’m guilty of forgetting to ask Him for help and then finding out I’m once again trying to do it on my own.

The old gospel song, “Learning to Lean,” is a perfect example of how we must remind ourselves that we are not alone, and it is our Savior’s desire that we reach out to him and ask for help. What parent has not had their heart melt when a child reaches up to them with open and arms and asks, “Can you help me?” God, our Father, is the same; loving each of us unconditionally, regardless of our faults, our sins, and our past. We are forgiven. All we have to do is confess our sins and ask Him to come into our lives. With childlike faith, we must have a heart that is willing to lean on Him. We battle against powers, principalities, and dark forces that are not of this world, so why would you think you can do it by yourself?

Leaning trees on the John’s River, near Collettsville, NC. in the Blueridge Mountains.

As a teacher, you spend countless hours during the course of the school year, foregoing sleep, family, and often personal time for yourself. It is during the few weeks of the summer that teachers can catch up and find time for themselves. Unlike what I might have wanted or envisioned, this summer has been anything but relaxing. I’m not complaining, for it has been a season of growth; finding my walk with God becoming closer than ever before. It has been a time of finding a level of patience that heretofore I didn’t know existed. In the waiting, searching for the next door to open, I found a sense of peace within that was only possible because of the grace that God had provided.

Were there moments when the thought of no medical insurance, no job, and no hint of future employment would crash into my mind and mentally take my breath away?

Yes, of course.

Did I allow those thoughts to drown me in depression and sorrow, feeling pity for myself?

No, I didn’t.

Each time those fears surfaced, I remembered what the Word had taught me, and I would take a deep breath and feel the hand of God upon me. He builds a hedge of protection before and behind us in all that we do. The scripture says, “If God is for us, who can be against us?” When we truly walk with our Savior each and every day, we learn to think of him being by our side. It is then that I have found that we find we are never alone. People look at the Retreat and are often impressed by the magnitude of a simple little building built by me; me a mere whisper of a man, barely 150lbs soaking wet. It is then that I remind them that I haven’t done it alone. Other than the occasional help from friends and my son, the majority of it was accomplished by just the two of us; God and me.

Now I know, and often when I say this, I can see the skeptical look of most people arise, as you might be thinking at this point. But let me give you just one moment when I learned early on that He was with me.

The floor of the foundation was covered with the first layer of plywood, and I had begun to put up the outer walls. Before starting to build them, I first engineered a system of cables, and pulleys such that I could use my tractor to help raise the enormous weight of a wall. At this point, I can most assuredly tell you that God had given me the insight on how to do this because alone, I would have never figured it out. But that’s not the testimony I wanted to share; that is yet to come.

Once everything was in place, I boldly built the first wall. It consisted of ten-foot-tall 2×6’s complete with a front door and two windows, all consisting of full headers above each. The headers alone probably weighed 300 lbs. When it was time to lift the wall, I attempted to wedge a crowbar under the top plate in order to put the chain around it. There was no budging it. Feeling defeated, I sat down on the far corner and viewed the monstrosity of workmanship.

“Would it have to be taken apart and done one piece at a time,” my mind questioned.

Then I remembered the most important part of all that I was doing: “I hadn’t asked God for help.”

At that moment, I went to Him in prayer, thanking him for all that we had done up to this point. There had been so many other times when He gave me strength, wisdom, and encouragement. Like never before, I needed him now. As my prayer was lifted up, there was that feeling of energy flowing through my weary limbs, as I had felt so many times before. I said “Amen,” and stood up, walked over to the wall and jammed the crowbar underneath the top plate, as I had attempted to do before, but now was successful. Quickly, I snaked the log chain around the top plate and then connected its hook around the other part of the chain.

It was ready to lift.

Once more, knowing what had just transpired, I asked God for his help in this, and that he help me get the wall standing before the end of the day.

A few minutes later, the twenty-foot long wall was standing at a 45-degree angle. It spanned the entire length of the front of the building. As I had learned in construction many years ago, I had placed braces to keep it up, even though the chain held it, but in my excitement, I had missed that the block and tackle had jammed into the chain at the top. There was no more the tractor and cable system could do. Now it was up to me to inch the wall up vertically using the two braces, each held in place by a single nail. It was at this point that with every breath I prayed. Every inch, the wall began to rise. Because the block and tackle were preventing the wall from going any further up, it had to be disconnected. Now, not only was there nearly a ton of wall looming over my head, but there was nothing to keep it from crashing down on me; nothing but the hand of God. Feverishly I worked, praying, sweating, and putting all that my small frame could humanly muster, all the while, the power of the Holy Spirit flowed through my veins.

Suddenly, before I knew it, she was standing tall.

I stepped back and looked. There before me, the entire twenty-foot wall stood perfectly in place, perfectly erect. The two braces were holding tight. To make sure it was finished, I walked over and took the level to make sure it was right.

It was perfectly level.

I leaned the level against the wall and stepped back.

“Amazing,” I breathed, “I can’t believe I did that,” I thought to myself.

Did you hear it? Did you hear when I once more allowed the natural man within, that fleshly part of our being that wants to take all the credit? It’s so easy to forget. But there is always an answer in the word for our stumbling blocks. James wrote, “Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up.”

Yet, for a split second, the natural man resurfaced and entered the self-gratification he so often seeks. In my haste, not only had I forgotten that “I” hadn’t done anything, but rather, God had done it through me. The verse, “I can do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me,” never rang so true at that moment. In my exuberance, the thrill of seeing what we had done together, I had forgotten to nail the braces to the floor to keep the wall from going any farther in the direction I had been pushing it.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a breeze stirred the top of the trees. My sweat-stained shirt felt the coolness, which was a relief in the autumn heat. The leaves swirled slightly at the foot of the building and then in horror, I watched as the wall eerily, like a slow-motion film, began to tilt the opposite direction. It quickly picked up the speed until it became a crescendo of crashing lumber falling off the front of the building, crashing into the tractor and support structures below.

The once impressive display of engineering was now a broken pile of wood and nails.

In that brief instant, I realized what the error of my ways. In my moment of self-elation, I had merely thought that it was “I” that had done something, rather than giving God the credit. In the blink of an eye, it was all taken away. The testimony at that moment was no longer about the success of the project, but rather, now it was about my failure; yes, my affliction.

How many times has something gone wrong in your life that you’ve had to start over? How many times has what seemed a disaster eventually became a blessing? Time and time again, what seemed to be a failure only allowed another door to open, and with it, something more precious and valuable arose. It is then the line in the verse, “our light affliction, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory,” comes into focus.

It took three days, and two more men to help me correct the disaster and to redo what God and I had done in just a few minutes. By reaching out to those other men for help, it allowed them to become part of the Retreat construction, and in so doing, also gave them the opportunity to feel God with us. From that point forward, the sharing of the labor of love began to grow, and many more would eventually come to help when time allowed.

In the end, what seemed a momentary affliction worked a greater glory, one that wasn’t visible from the start, but in the end, was something that would go deeper than the temporal; an eternal blessing. Once more, I learned to lean a little more on my Savior.

When the storms of this world crash into your life, hold on tight and pray. Yes, my friend, pray that God is with you. No matter how dark the night, no matter how painful the fever, there is always a dawning of a new day, and with it, the opportunity to rise from the ashes. There is no sin too great that God cannot forgive. Christ died for all men, even those who knew him not, so that we all, yes, all of us could have the hope of eternal salvation.

The tiny droplets continue to fall; one precious leaf after another until their weight gently caresses the forest floor. The mist begins to cover the lower reaches of the valleys below. From the mountain, the vastness of God’s creation exceeds our ability to comprehend, but for a moment, we can inhale the beauty for which we have been created.

Let not the evil of this world encircle you so tightly that there is no light from which you can reach too for help. The pain will pass, the storm will give way, and in its wake, a peaceful assurance will be waiting; your confirmation that God is with you, for now, and evermore.

Thanks be to God.

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by | June 23, 2019 · 8:54 pm

Changed by the Storms of Life

“And whether we be afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effectual in the enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation.”-2 Cor. 1:6

The morning brought about overcast skies; something that hadn’t been part of yesterday’s plan. Contemplations of getting up and finding new subjects to capture to use for future inspirational messages were quickly shrouded over by the gray skies above. From my vantage point, sitting on the picnic table at the Collettsville General store, I sat in humble submission to all that God was trying to reveal to my simple mind. Even knowing what I know about my walk in the Lord, it was evident, His plans were not my own, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.”-Isa. 55:8

Blueridge Mountains, Collettsville, NC.

The clouds loomed so closely that one might have perceived it to be dusk; the birds flitting to and fro cared little. Cars going by, crossing the bridge, had their headlights on. For late June, it was a pleasantly cool morning. The John’s River flowing past echoed a constant gentle whisper. Its voice was the blank canvas for all other voices, bemoaning a solitude to any that might listen; a respite from the worldly nature of mankind. If only one could sit each waking hour by such a place, how much more complete would their earthly life be? If the curse had not been placed upon the world, how much more awe-inspiring would this appear?

While contemplating all that was before me, the thought of how much more this might mean to one that had known struggles, darkness, and sorrow came to mind. Many of my friends, colleagues, and even myself included are facing all manner of persecution and trials. To this end, my thoughts began to reflect upon how much I wish each of them were here with me to see what I can see. But even in our afflictions, we must keep mindful of how our Savior is using this to mold us, make us stronger in our faith. As the Apostle Paul wrote, “And whether we be afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effectual in the enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation.”

Like a soldier having survived the atrocities of war, perhaps even death by his own hands, to then return into the normal society; he cannot help but be changed, forever altered in his perception of the fine line between civility and cruelty. For a moment he can be in the real world, and a split second later, he’s back in the hell from whence his world was forever altered; blood, gore, and mayhem the likes many of us may never know, nor shall we want too. Likewise, a person can return from the depths of struggle and despair so great, that once they do, they too are forever changed, never to look again upon a normal life without understanding how many divine circumstances have attributed to that fragile thread of what is deemed normalcy. Each one of us is so close to the edge of the abyss of having nothing; ever so close to losing it all, yet we doubtfully are aware. Those who comprehend this perilous precipice have the perception of both edges of the double sword. They are keenly aware and feel the sense of urgency unbeknownst to those around them. This difference makes them often seem either distant – when they choose to remain silent for fear of distancing those with whom they wished to be with – or that they appear overzealous in their beliefs to the point they unintentionally ostracize those they love. In essence, they push away those very people who they seek to reach.

When we accept Christ into our lives, when we turn away from the old ways and take on the new, we are also forever changed. “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.”-2 Cor. 5:17 All of those things in the past are forgotten; those old ways of sin, those old habits of which kept us in bondage are gone. We are set free. At that moment, in that embrace of total immersion into following Christ, we too can become separated from those around us who either never realized our change, or who have yet to come to know Him as we have come to know Him. Either way, we become a different person, one in which we have died to our former selves, and being such, we no longer rely on the old ways.

In that moment, when we are saved, we become a new being. When we do, we face the same circumstances as those who have either lived through traumatic life events or circumstances. We must be mindful of our presence among those non-believers or even those who think they are Christian but are not.

It is a precarious path we walk when we are changed.

Not only that, but our perception of this fallen world changes as well. The world around us takes on a new light. Things once unseen for the sake of chasing after the natural things of this world are now visible. Our senses are like that of a babe, freshly receiving inputs from old receptors but are now seen through new eyes. Gone are those filters of addiction and worldly influences. We are cleansed by His blood, washed white as snow.

“Wherefore, he saith, Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.”-Eph.5:14 When we awaken from that death, we open the door as if to a freshly fallen snowscape; pristine as it had been from the beginning. In our sin, we were too lost to see what was before us all along.

Lastly, when we become one with our Father, we no longer have to question our ability to speak with Him. We know that he listens to all that we lift up in prayer.  Even in our weakness, God will intercede for us in prayer, “Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”-Rom.8:26-28

We understand that even on the darkest of days, those in which thunder clouds are looming on the horizon, there is still even reason to rejoice. Even when those countless prayers we have lifted up go unanswered, we still know that He is listening. “I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.”-Ps. 27:13-14

In the waiting, there is learning…and always hope.

When we feel downtrodden in that waiting, take heed and remember, He sends us his helper, the Comforter, “But when the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you from the Father, even the Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of me.”-Jn 15:26

Yes, even on those days when you expected sunshine and God sends showers, rejoice in all that is given. We only have one earthly life to live. Let us not waste this time in despair, but rather, share the gift of salvation to all those who will hear. Be mindful of your audience and be not anxious. Some are meant to plant while others will reap; often will we see both. The fields are ripe for harvest. Now is the time.

Let your light shine for all to see.

Thanks be to God.

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by | May 14, 2019 · 10:06 pm

Hope and Wait…

“But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it. Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God”-Romans 8:25-27

Through the lush vegetation, he pushed. Behind him, darkness and danger had pursued him like demons from another realm. There had been many near misses; moments when it felt as if the very life had been sucked from his lungs. As he neared the edge of the jungle, the light from beyond beckoned, like a welcoming host waving their guest home.

He was so close.

Each day as he had neared the edge of the dark realm, he could feel the grip of death lessen. Each new day, there was an increased hope, like that of a child expectant of the excitement of opening their gifts on Christmas morning. At first, the feeling was barely noticeable, but as the sound of release from beyond the infirmaries of bondage slipped away, he could feel a growing anticipation of eagerness stir within his blood.

Yet, he could not see what was to come.

He thought back to the verse which echoed in his mind like the raptor’s call off the nearby canyon walls, “But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.” A chill passed through his bones as its meaning resonated with his soul.

Evil had stalked him like a dark predator, walking in the shadow of each footstep. The multitude of workload and stress it placed upon his life was nearly to the point of an unbearable burden. Yet, he pushed on; praying for strength, guidance, and wisdom every waking moment. There were times when his foot would slip on the path, and the weight of those shackles would throw him to the ground. Each time he would moan under his breath, gritting his teeth, as he pushed upward, looking for what little ray of hope that flickered through the somber canopy above. Questions clouded his mind as Satan attempted to confuse him, trying to distract him long enough to make him lose his way and give up. When the roar of tumult would overwhelm him, he would pause, bending over and holding his knees as he sought air to breathe, like the fighter pausing between rounds; then he would drag his weary frame back into the fray.

Each time he gained momentum, as if the clouds overhead had parted and a slimmer of light would escape to the forest floor, the darkness would slam him once more, like a mule kicking him in the stomach. Nauseating helplessness would momentarily overwhelm his spirit as he would stumble backward; dazed, confused, and humiliated by what all was said of his inescapable ineptitudes as Satan tried to make him lose courage. The taunts would cut him to the core, as if the prince of darkness knew what mattered most, and would use those words to slice his soul to the very marrow of his existence. As he lay upon the sod, barely breathing, the darkness would leave, feeling accomplished for what it had done. Behind it, the man closed his eyes and prayed in a whispered breath, “God, I need you like never before. If this is the path you want me to take, then show me the way. If this is not, then show me the door to take, for I cannot do this, nor have I ever done this without you.”

As the man’s face looked up from the earth, overhead a fluorescent butterfly lit upon a branch of forest fern nearby. Amongst the deep recess of the darkness, its radiance lifted his spirit momentarily, like the wings of that insect, fluttering upward, then gently floating away. He could feel his on soul rise upon the occasion and a temporary moment of repose warmed his being. He closed his eyes and pressed it into his memory, for it was the only reprieve from the oppression he had known it some time.

The days would turn into months.

Each new month brought the repeated episode of the man being beaten down, again and again, until his health began to deteriorate. It seemed as the darkness was winning. But the man had not lost faith, and in his faith, there was eternal hope; a strength greater than the darkness could compete, for the gates of hell could not prevail against it. Each day, his journey brought him closer to the end, and each day, victory was nearer than before.

Satan knew he had won, but as he watched in earnest, he could not stop the man from continuing to move onward, never stopping, never giving up. He used every means possible to stop his progress, but nothing seemed to dissuade the man from his point of focus. It was if he had another life within that the darkness could not penetrate; a light within.

As the pathway neared the end, the man felt his spirit begin to soar. Each new day, each new breath, the life he once thought had gone was now returning, but unlike ever before; more clear, more vivid, more alive than ever before. It was as if he had died and was born again.

Death had lost its grip, and his victory was with God, through Christ Jesus.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the edge of the deep wood opened, and there before him lay the vastness of eternity. The glory, in all its splendor, was more than his mind could grasp. Tears filled his eyes as the expanse of beauty flooded through his eyes, warming his soul from without, to within. The marrow of his being had been infused with something greater than any feeling he had previously known, as if an agape love, charity for which no expression could be summoned, touched an inner precept that he had not known until now.

The words flooded his soul like the voices of a thousand waterfalls, whispering a roar into his being, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

The man sat and wept as God welcomed him into the fold, for his heart was now healed.

We may never know the journey someone is on in this life, nor the tribulations through which they are struggling. We can each in our own way be a ray of hope, a brilliant butterfly to their being with nothing more than a smile, a warm welcome, or just simply a kind hello.

Seek to empathize with your neighbor, colleague, or family member. Remember, “. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God.”

Smile, and be patient, for, in the end, hope will guide you.

We may not see the next door, but with hope, and faith, we will know that when it opens, it will be the will of God.

And most importantly,

Thanks be to God.

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by | April 28, 2019 · 8:41 pm

The Next Step…

Looking down, past the brown tops of my hiking boots, the abyss below opens up into a vast expanse of space. Blue-green vestiges spread beneath the view of their void occasionally obscured by clouds passing below. My feet are precariously placed upon a solitary outcropping of rock. From whence I stand, it is as if the whole world can be seen. The next step, if I were to choose, would be off into nothing; thin air, an empty void of obvious surface for which to step. Somewhere behind me, the faint voice of reason shouts, too far to hear clearly, for they have yet to catch me. I close my eyes and listen once more for the still small voice.

“I will never leave nor forsake you…”

He spoke to me as a father. Inside, the change was only known by my soul, as my own spirit had been infused with his Spirit. Outward, the metamorphosis had taken time but was still a work in progress. Yet, the call had been perfectly clear. The door had been opened, and it was now or never.

Eyes still shut, I step forward to where there was no place to step.

The shouts from behind are closer now, which turn to screams. There is no turning back once the foot has left the safety of the known, for once we leave it behind, there is no turning back.

They dropped their nets, never to return to those fishing boats. The father watched as his sons walked away from the family business, simply to follow a man that was merely a prophetic voice at that point, one that had suddenly come on the scene as a teacher of some new way of thinking. Gone, as if they had stepped off a cliff, never to be seen again. He tore at his clothes, wrenching in agony at their seeming abandonment of his life’s work. “How could they?” “What spell did this stranger cast upon his children?”

Again, standing at the abyss, my faith sustains me. There is no need to rush, no need to make haste, for to do so would only result in miscalculated belief. “Trust and Obey,” says the song, “for there is no other way.” As I stand and watch, the onrushing mist begins to part, ever so slightly. Through the fog, there appear distant edifices, dark and obscured, they are not yet visible. Their images undiscernible, but not mistaken for another. There is a firmness in what they represent; something solid and not imagined; real and not pretend. They cannot be touched from where I stand; but rather, can only be seen. To step to them before it is time would be fatal for the journey. Waiting, patiently, my heart drops as the clouds thicken and those distant images are once more obscured; gone before they could be imagined more clearly. Yet, the heart knows they are there. It is only a matter of time that once again, the clouds will part, and they will be visible once again; patience in the waiting.

The still small voice speaks, and we who believe listen.

Some might think them only pure coincidence, but to the believer, we know better. Each week, as the clouds continue to hide the pathway before my footsteps, there is that continued voice, speaking, whispering the prophetic words of things to come. Each new revelation begins to paint the blank canvas with what might be; where the Lord is leading. Again, the words, “Trust and Obey,” surface in one’s thoughts. Below your feet, there is no clear path, only the emptiness of

the unknown. Patiently you wait, not wanting to step before it is obviously the “time.” Each week, yet another revelation confirming the news from what was previously known. The past folds its story together, also confirming that this was not just chance, but obviously the work of the Master’s hand. Like the Red Sea coming back together after the Israelites had passed, crashing in upon itself with a thunderous roar, so too are doors behind slamming shut.

There is no turning back.

Onward you must press. Looking back only causes the heart to lament on things that were meant to be. Yes, it is difficult. Loved ones are some of those precious memories that you must leave. Their presence will no longer be in your immediate life, but rather, removed to a distant place where only the occasional visit may allow. Gone are all of those things in life you had worked so hard to achieve, all of those countless hours spent in toil for something that now seems to matter little. Yet, in truth, all the hard work and toil were the fire that forged the metal within.

Perspective begins to become your greatest gift, seeing what once led you astray, away from God. Now, with new eyes, you can see what once was hidden. Those moments, those dear precious seconds that you put aside for the sake of that “goal,” come into focus. The distant mountain comes back into view and once more, you can see it; a granite monolith, shrouded in greens and blues, standing firm where it had always existed, yet now knew to your own vision. The wind shifts and you can smell the earth, rock, and life that lives upon its surface. Suddenly you are struck with an awareness that shudders your body to the core; you have come alive; you who once were lost are now found; yea who once were dead, are now alive in the Spirit.

The cry of the nearby raptor echoes off the canyon walls below. The voice whispers once more, and another peak ahead appears. The late morning sun brings the entire scene before you now aglow with warmth, like God wrapping you in his bosom, comforting your soul. The energy of the moment flows from your head to your toes; the tingling unmistaken, like tiny pinpricks that make your body laugh with joy. Momentarily, there is no pain, nor weight of the world, no heartache, only unblemished joy.

In your heart, you smile for the coming days will soon reveal what He has prepared.

They had just left Jerusalem. It had been a heart wrenching, painful arduous Passover.

There was no turning back.

There had been so much hope, but in the end, so much tragedy. Yet, even now, as they walked toward the small village of Emmaus, they were confounded by the recent news of the empty tomb. “What could it mean,” they asked and speculated. So intense and sad was their discussion; they barely noticed the stranger joining them as they walked and talked.

“And it came to pass, that, while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus himself drew near, and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know him. And he said unto them, What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another, as ye walk, and are sad?”-Luke 24:15-17

They were stopped in their tracks with disbelief. Cleopas, one of the two answered him saying, “Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days?”

“What things,” he replied?

They then went on to explain how Jesus, a prophet mighty in deed and word to God and all people, was brought to be put to death by the chief priests and rulers; to be crucified. Their eyes now brimming with tears as they spoke to the stranger, who had yet to be revealed to them.

“He was to be the redeemer for all Israel,” Cleopas said pulling at his garment.

The other continued when Cleopas could no longer speak, “It has now been three days since his burial, just today, and now this morning we hear the news that cannot be believed.”

Cleopas clearing his throat broke in, “Yes, certain women, also of our company made the most amazing discovery at the tomb, finding the stone had been rolled away and the grave was empty.”

The other broke in now, with an elevated voice of hope, “And they said that there was an angel told them that he was not here, but that he was alive!”

Jesus stood listening, finally nodding in response and said as he began walking toward Emmaus with them, “O fools, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken: Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his glory? And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.”

The seven miles seemed like seconds when the two realized they were almost at their destination. The pair had been so enthralled by all their traveling companion had to tell them about the prophecies of old about Jesus, they forgot the time. The stranger felt as if he knew them. So reluctant were they to end their fellowship, and fearing that the stranger was traveling farther, they offered for him to remain with them for the night. It was often dangerous to travel after dark, and so being kind hosts, they made sure their new friend was to be protected. Jesus obliged, and minutes turned to hours once more. They soon found themselves seated at the table preparing to begin the evening meal. Giving their guest the honor of breaking the bread, they watched with gracious anticipation, not realizing what was about to happen.

As Jesus took the bread, broke it, and then handed it to the guests, their eyes were then opened…and he vanished.

Soon, the path will be made clear. Soon the direction you are to choose will be obvious; there will be no mistake. When you are handed that precious bread of the body of Christ, you will feel it touch your skin, you will see Him standing before you, and then, yes, then your eyes will be opened. Your heart will quicken, and eternity will flow through your veins as you become a child of God, born not of the blood, not of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

How often have we been seated with the very thing in life that has provided for us and given us the very essence of grace and neglected to realize it? How often have we taken what Christ did for us for granted? Have you been blind to the truth; God sent his only Son to earth, to become flesh and blood, to suffer and die for our sins? He then arose on the third day to sit at the right hand of the Father. He has prepared the path for you; awaken and take his hand and receive that precious bread of life.

Soon, yes, soon, the door will open, and the pathway will be waiting.

The next step is up to you.

The voice whispers once more, “I will never leave nor forsake you…”

Thanks be to God.

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