Tag Archives: David

by | April 3, 2018 · 10:00 pm

A Visitor from Afar

“And Elisha prayed, and said, Lord, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha.” – 2 Kings 6:17

He looked down at his worn, weathered hands as he told his story. His voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and as cracked as those calloused palms to which he spoke. “They would not listen,” he recalled, the clear blue eyes glazed over as he looked into the distant past. “We tried to warn them, but it was of no use.” He shook his head as he looked up at me, wanting to say more but emotion had gripped his throat. He lowered his head and ran his fingers through his course gray-speckled hair, relenting to the pain within until he could speak once more.

When he had finally recovered, his demeanor had changed. Like that of an ancient warrior who had finally prepared for battle, he had returned to the front to continue the fight and tell the rest of the story.

“We had known that they were coming, but we didn’t know when. I was with my brother in the upper pastures. It was late spring, and our sheep were hungry for any new growth. A couple weeks earlier, all the men had met one evening to discuss what we would do if they came. We knew that God was with us, but we also knew from the past, that we would need to do more than to kneel and pray when their swords began to swing. There were arguments on both sides of the faith, but eventually, we of the warrior clans ruled out. We wanted to believe that God would lead us, and we always will, but then again, we knew in the ancient times, God also fought on the side of the Israelites, and we as them, believed in our Heavenly Father; now so probably more than then. So when we heard the rumble of the hoof beats echoing up the canyon walls, we knew it was time. I raced along the ridgelines trying to watch as I flew through rock and tree, trying not to slip to the depths below. As we raced back to our farms and villages, the ancient men of faith felt their hearts in their ears. The pounding of blood pulsed through our veins as the spirit drew neigh. We had been told that overwhelming forces would come, but we feared not, for in the days of Elisha, Gideon, David, and all the other biblical kings of old who needed God to help them win, we too knew that without Him, we would surely meet Him sooner than later.

In the distance, I could see some of the families already beginning to flee to the upper reaches of the valleys. Their belongings and animals in tow. There was something about the sight of family and friends fleeing for their lives that made your insides turn into fire. We no longer felt our legs as we were at once lifted from the ground and seemingly placed into our positions of defense awaiting the onslaught of deranged armies. Their purpose had been prepared by those who had lied about the truth, swaying even the most ardent believer into thinking that they were doing the Lord’s work by attacking these meager hunters and farmers. We would find out later that we had been described as devil worshippers, practicing occult rituals, holding worship of our own accord and slandering God’s Word to make it fit our demonic worship. Those lies stung as bad as the flames that would consume most of our kin, the lucky ones that had been captured.

The rest of us would live to find a worse fate.

That day could never be erased from my mind, as we stopped one advance after another. They came like swarms of locusts, too many for the few of us to shoot with arrow and spear. We turned to rolling boulders from above to both crush them and to block the passes through which they had been attempting to pass; some only wide enough for one or two men to pass through at a time. By nightfall, we had secured our border, but with only a handful of men, the new dawn would bring more soldiers from below. Our families had for now made some good time, but the climb to the nearby peaks was slow and grueling. The elderly moved at their own speed, not fearing what was to come, but instead, welcoming it, for they had already asked for the Lord to deliver them.

Knowing that they needed more time, we stayed to buy them at least one more day’s travel. That night I watched as the stars came out and all of God’s creation was on display for us. The pitch-black sky was the perfect backdrop for the multitude of stars that lit the heavens above. The night air was cold, for it was still spring. Pockets of snow still clung to the shadowed sides of the mountains. The woolen overcoat I had carried was barely enough to keep me warm. We dared not light fires for fear of being discovered and giving away our positions, so we huddled close to one another and did the best we could, falling asleep praying to God above.

I felt as if we had barely fallen asleep when the glow of the coming morn began to light the eastern horizon. The sun had barely touched the skyline when we heard the sound of footsteps echoing again up the valley. Our hearts began to beat in time as we knew we were the only thing between our loved ones and death. Before we picked up the sword and shield to begin possibly our last day on earth, we gathered together in prayer.”

“Brother,” the old man said to me as his eyes began to well up once again, “I can tell you I had never known anyone or anybody that had prayed a prayer before that day that came true as it did that day. I must say to you before you think it, that this must just be an exaggeration, but I tell you as the Father in Heaven above sits on the throne of God, it is true. That day we prayed as one, and we said this, “God, please Lord if it be your will, give us the strength to do what is right, to save our loved ones, to defeat this force. God we know we cannot do this alone, for as in those days of Elisha, we need you now, oh Lord we need you. We beseech you, God, to send us down angels from on high to aid us in this battle if it be your desire. We seek your guidance, we seek your love, we seek you in all that we do from the very day we are born until the day we die. Lord hear our pleas, for we are the keepers of your word, from the beginning until this day, Thanks be to God, Amen.”

“We turned from that moment and took up our positions, the few of us that remained.

As we knelt behind rock and crevice waiting and watching until they were within range, the clouds began to cast shadows on the lower vestiges of the valleys. We could see the winds swirling them over the peaks behind us. Some of our younger men began to pray out loud, asking for the safety of those family members still trying to reach those distant summits before the storms hit. Distant thunderclaps shook the ground as dark, ominous clouds began to shroud the peaks that heretofore shone like brilliant golden statues in the morning sunlight.

It was then as if God had truly stood with us, that the unbelievable happened.

Shrouds of blinding ice and rain began to rush past us, like embodied beings of another realm. Lightning strobed in sequenced flashes, striking objects below our cover, shaking the earth until we thought we too might be thrown into the hell that had become the onslaught of man and beast below. Screams of horror and death could barely be heard over that of the wind, like a horrific banshee of hades, all had been obscured from anything we could determine to be human. There was no describing the scene below us, other than we could only determine in blinding sequences of scenes; men, beast, and other, intertwined in a battle that no mortal could withstand.

Time passed, and the sound of our own heartbeats in our ears drummed to the sound of the throng of echoes which combined into a siren of prayers which had been answered. I grasped onto the granite boulder before me to make sure I was still alive, so surreal was everything else around me at the moment.

We don’t know what day if it were the same or more than one, but eventually, the squalls ended, and we could rise from our places of battle refuge.

Below us on the mountain, there were only vague remnants of what had been a sizeable army. Pieces of shields, fragments of weaponry, and human remains all littered the landscape. It was as if a mighty beast had torn them asunder, limb from body, head from torso; the death was complete; not one had survived.”

The old man looked up at me and smiled for the first time.

“You see,” he nodded as he spoke, “God be with us.”

I sat in silence and in awe.

For a moment, I could feel his hand upon my knee as he wanted to say more, and then he was gone.

The day had been long and my brief rest in the chair had turned into a nap. Little did I know that it was more than just a peaceful rest I would encounter. Outside in the nearby woods, a woodpecker tapped out his vibrant melody.

I had not expected it nor known he was coming, but it was a blessing to have been visited from afar once more.

May God be with us.

Thanks be to God.

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by | December 17, 2017 · 6:20 pm

Who will Rise Up for Me…

By Timothy W. Tron

“Who will rise up for me against the evildoers? or who will stand up for me against the workers of iniquity?”-Psalm 94:16

(Dedicated to all those who lost their lives in Sutherland Springs, Texas.)

We heard the loud bang in the vestibule, but we didn’t give it a second thought, at least not until the doors that separated us from the outer room became ajar. From where I sat, I could see the guard’s leg lying on the floor. His foot had pushed the door barely open; it was then I realized something was dreadfully wrong. Before the words could come from my mouth, a madman burst in the door of the sanctuary opposite from where we sat. He was screaming obscenities while waving his AR-15 back and forth at faces frozen in fear as he marched toward the pulpit yelling, “Where was the mother f*!@*!er that had been f*!*!g his wife?” My heartbeat in my ears as I peaked over the pew from where our row had taken cover. From there I began looking for an angle from where I could take him out. He was moving too quickly for me to get a clear shot. Before we knew it, another one of our security team had done the job, taking out the active shooter from behind a column before he could advance any further and begin firing.

Fortunately, this had only been a drill.

We were taking part in a seminar on how to prepare for one of the most unfortunate events of our times; church shootings.

Each day we seem to awaken to more and more darkness in our world.

Before we began the program, we met in a separate room where our facilitator for the day was introduced. The mood was solemn. Before the presenter spoke, our host, quoted Psalm 94:16, “Who will rise up for me against the evildoers? or who will stand up for me against the workers of iniquity?” He briefly discussed the reason we were there, which we all were very aware. The most recent mass shootings at the church in Texas had awakened many to the need to begin, or further strengthen their worship service security measures. Our facilitator was then introduced, and he gave some background references that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck; this was the real deal. Having had some military training, one would understand, for those that have also been there, that you know when someone is capable of walking the walk, not just talking the talk, and so it was with our teacher this day.

My mind thought of those ancient primitive church leaders who were persecuted for preserving the Word of God. After seeing thousands of their own slaughtered in one massacre after another, they realized that to survive to carry on their legacy and to continue the true faith, they must do as the Word says in many places; the faithful must use what God hath given them; the knowledge, the ability, and the power to persevere. Their decision was based on their full understanding of the Word. In a time when it was a matter of life or death, once again, the Word of God spoke to them; time after time. For instance, we can find in Psalm 144:1, “Of David. Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle;” Then again in the New Testament, Romans 13:4, “For he is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer.”

Several times in between the days of the Apostles, until the great awakening began in Europe, men like Joshua Janavel would take a stand and protect the Word with their lives using the sword. The persecutions of these primitive churches would increase as mankind passed the first millennium. By time Janavel came along, there had already been two-hundred years of slaughter and resistance. Janavel would become known as one of the greatest military leaders to come out of the Waldensian Valleys in the 17th century. He would lead his people against insurmountable odds, again and again, simply because he knew if God was with them, then who could stand against them. Their adversary, or rather, persecutor, was the Church of Rome. The church-state wanted full control of mankind’s soul and would stop at nothing to annihilate anyone who stood in their way, including those few renegade heretics in their country’s northern valleys who had received the Word directly from the Apostles.

Many during Janavel’s time and centuries before had succumbed to believing in taking the passivist role, and for that, they died. Had they all done the same, we might have never had the Word in its pure form that we have today. But because Janavel knew his Bible as well as he knew those valleys, he would go on to lead a tiny guerilla force against entire armies and survive. He would write of his methods and share them with other Waldenses, who also would overcome unthinkable odds. To this day, his tactics are still shared with Cadets in our own military, at the Army War College in Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

Janavel also believed that by fighting, he was doing God’s will. If one of his men cursed, he would force them to attend a Council of War, whereby they would be warned, that if it happened again, they could be put to death. This was the extreme belief Janavel held, in that God was using him and his people as vessels through which they were to do His will, not their own. So, before each battle, he would have his forces kneel in prayer, to ask for forgiveness of the lives they would take, but to also ask that God watch over them and protect them if it be His will. Because of Janavel and men like him, we can share the true Word and faith of Jesus Christ, without any adulterations, or misguided interpretations as the Church of Rome would have it.

Once more, we find ourselves on the verge of facing persecutions like in times of old. Around the world, this has already begun, and unfortunately, with time it will begin here as well. Our enemies are many, but we have been given the ability to protect our flocks, and a such, we should do all we can.

From that point forward in the lecture, my mind was back in Basic Training mode. The instruction was purely from a militaristic point of view, as it needed to be. To provide some insight as to the seriousness of the program, we were first all asked to unarm ourselves before beginning the exercise. The leader said that when we began, the simulation might become so real, that there would be some that might revert to their former training. He had known people to black out, allowing that trained instinct to take over, and as such, we needed to take the precaution to remove all live fire from the exercise; save for one person who was selected to be the guard, just in case.

For the remainder of the morning, we practiced one scenario after another, talked of tactics to take, and discussed options when using deadly force. In all, it was very surreal. As we were wrapping up, the facilitator said something that really hit home when he was describing the security team members you would need. He said, “You want to be sure you pick people who are true Christians, people that know where they are going, and those that are willing to give their lives to save others.” It was then that the cross and Jesus came back to the moment. When we step into our faith and honestly believe, we should no longer fear death; which was the teacher’s intent. “Those who fear dying, you do not want protecting your congregation,” he reminded us.

Once more, the solemnness overwhelmed us. Many sat staring off into the distance once the exercises had completed. Their minds reflecting on all that we heard and saw, but what was more disturbing, what was to come. Yet, when we walk in faith, we know that as times continue to the end of days, we already know what to expect, as scripture says in Mark 13:7, “And when you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed. This must take place, but the end is not yet.”

When my son and I signed up for the program, we didn’t realize we were actually taking part in a live exercise. We were not disappointed. However, we gained valuable insight as to what to expect and what we must try to anticipate in a world that is increasingly falling away from organization into chaos. We must continue to be the light in a dark world, no matter the cost.

In the end, if we know He is with us, who can be against us.

Thanks be to God.

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by | November 23, 2017 · 8:20 pm

Thanksgiving of Faith

The eyes of the man were fixed upon the fire before him. If one had been watching, they would have thought him to be somehow studying the flames, but in truth, his mind was not there. He was searching beyond what lay before him and into the distant past. Again, and again, he seemed to return no matter what he did, those thoughts kept coming back; the persecutions so evil, so inhuman they were difficult just to look at. They were simple hand-drawn pictures dating back nearly a thousand years, yet the graphic story of death and torture were so vivid it turned your stomach just to glance at them for a few moments. The flames of inquisition fueled the pyres around those ancient believers. The Roman Catholic Church did all they could to erase their kind off the face of the earth, but God was with them. Their faith tested but never wavered. In his mind, he could see them again, succumbing to the heat and smoke, but fighting to the bitter end, singing praises or quoting scriptures to spite their tormentors. To the world, the stories were unknown. Their plight was hidden, partly by time, partly because that was the way the perceived victors had wanted. Yet, no matter how hard the criminal tries to cover the truth, eventually it is revealed.

In truth, that man is me.

The night before, we had been back at the Trail. My return was to help with the annual Christmas Lights. The rest of the family was to be there, so it was a chance to be with them, if only for a short while. As we sat and talked, the people coming to see the lights began walking into the Visitor’s Center. As they entered, my wife would get up and welcome them in. This was her job now. In the past, when it was my calling, I would be the one to greet them and welcome the chance to explain to them all the Trail offered. It was my opportunity to share with them the Word of God. Last night, it was far different. The wind had been knocked out of my sails, and the Trail was no longer the place of faith I had once pictured. The lights themselves were a huge distraction from what the story of the Trail was really meant to be.

As I sat there listening to person after person enter, part of me wanted to jump up and tell them the truth, the real reason they were here, but that side of me that had been wounded kept me chained to my chair. I knew if I started, I wouldn’t get home until late, beyond what I could safely drive, so I kept quiet. There was nothing I could do but sulk in my own despair.

After leaving for home, I happened upon a friend’s sermon that was going on live. It was Ted Alexander’s message on the Waldenses at a Baptist Bible conference. I had never heard Ted speak before. I had only read the book he had written that included my timeline research. Interestingly enough, earlier in the week I had prayed to God to give me a renewed strength in my faith, somehow to wake me up, recharge my belief. Ted’s sermon did just that.

One main theme Ted was sharing was how the Baptist history must include the story of the Waldenses; they were the forefathers of the modern-day Baptists. It was because of the Waldenses that there was no need for a Reformation because the original Church of Jesus Christ had never died, and as such, never needed a Martin Luther to Reform it. As I listened to Ted speak, the waves of memory returned. The pages of transcripts and historical writings that I had reviewed were made anew, and my passion was rekindled once more. Ted spoke like the wind, his words compacted into an untold wealth of information that I’m certain was overwhelming his audience, as it was myself as I drove. Soon enough, my cell coverage died, and I had to take a break. Since I had missed Wednesday night service at Church, I swung by to say hello. They had just finished watching a video on John Wycliffe, the person that first started my research journey back in 2001. I shared with Pastor Joe this fact and how that I had just been listening to Ted on my drive home. We talked a bit longer about Wycliffe, and some of the other reformers we too had been studying only recently. It was another moment of biblical clarification that I needed. Shortly after saying goodbye, I left for home and watched the rest of Ted’s presentation as well as started it over to catch the parts that I had missed. I was weary and soon found myself falling asleep even though the information was more than interesting.

That’s where I had left it the previous night.

As I began stirring this morning, my mind was perusing through Ted’s message and how I might trim it down to fit a sermon that I will try to deliver in a couple weeks at a local Church. It was as if a reawakening in my soul had given me new hope, new strength.

Once more, God is opening doors that I had almost given up on. Prayers were being answered once again.

The scripture Ted began with in his sermon was Hebrews 11: 32-40 where it talks about the good things that happened to the prophets of the Old Testament, but then begins to talk about the bad things that happened to believers later on. At least on the surface, it is perceived as bad, but in truth, God has a plan in all that we do, be it good or bad. No matter the difficulty, the persecution, or the torture, there is a reason for all that we do. In this manner, I had come full circle as I sat watching the fire before me tonight. The chill in the air was kept at bay by the warmth. In the right amount, it was a comfort, but too much made me move back, farther from the raging billows of spark and heat.

Some would not be so lucky as to be able to move, for their bindings held them in place until their skin began to melt from their bones and their blood boiled within their veins. Their last breaths were consumed by the broiling smoke fuming beneath their very feet. The last sounds of God’s word being spoken were drifted into the skies above, their vestiges mixed in the smoke as the two became one.

There are so many things for which I can give thanks, but one that is above all others, is my thanks for all those forefathers of our faith, that no matter the difficulty, no matter the obstacles in their way, kept the faith. They had received the Word of God from the Apostles and kept the early Church alive for over a thousand years. Their blood became the seeds of the Reformation that would eventually sweep across Europe. Their passion for the Word now feeds my own until I too am consumed, not by the flames of torture, but for the desire to want to do more for my faith. To say I am thankful for all that they did to preserve the Word is putting it mildly.

On this day of Thanksgiving, I am thankful that God answers prayer, and that we are not forgotten. There will come a day when we find our maker welcoming us home. We are promised a home in glory when we become one with our maker. Now it is my turn, to go out and to make others find that path, to awaken to their calling, and to share the precious gift I’ve been given.

No, it’s not Christmas yet, it just Thanksgiving.

Thanks be to God.

” And what shall I more say? for the time would fail me to tell of Gedeon, and of Barak, and of Samson, and of Jephthae; of David also, and Samuel, and of the prophets: 33 Who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions. 34 Quenched the violence of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens. 35 Women received their dead raised to life again: and others were tortured, not accepting deliverance; that they might obtain a better resurrection: 36 And others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover of bonds and imprisonment: 37 They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented; 38 (Of whom the world was not worthy:) they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth. 39 And these all, having obtained a good report through faith, received not the promise: 40 God having provided some better thing for us, that they without us should not be made perfect.”-Hebrews 11:32-40

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by | February 18, 2013 · 11:23 pm

Goliath and the Free Radical

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where I am going, if anywhere?

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

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