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Talk Me Home…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you ready?

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Physicality of Reality…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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