I awoke this morning from a dream, in a seeming fit of torment, partly from tears of joy and partly from the fact that I had failed to mention something very near and dear to my heart to a person to which I had been speaking.
In my dream, I attended what appeared to be some sort of event. From the appearance of who I was waiting on to speak with in person after the show indicated that it must have been a Bluegrass Festival. The man whom I patiently waited to talk with was Doyle Lawson. Doyle had just announced his retirement from touring the multitude of festivals he and his band, Quick Silver, attended each year. Doyle was a showman. His presence at a festival and his band’s performance on stage were the earmarks of quality and perfection. Someone had posted on social media a photograph thanking Doyle for his contributions to Bluegrass and wishing him well in his retirement. The image showed Doyle walking away from his gold-brown touring bus, rhinestone-studded jacket, and signature cowboy had perched proudly on top of his manicured white hair, at his side, his mandolin case; the image was the icon of his legacy.
As the crowds died away and as the stage workers began taking down the sound system, Doyle lingered speaking to friends and fans, to which he had many. On the side, waiting so that we could be alone, I uncomplainingly waited. The coffee in my white styrofoam cup had long ago lost its warmth. The sips were now more of habit than need which helped pass the time. It wasn’t clear to me what I wanted to say, only that there was a deep, heart-felt gratitude that must be shared – nothing else.
Finally, when my turn came, Doyle came over, and we began talking. There didn’t seem to be words conveyed in the dream, but rather a feeling of sharing of thanks and gratitude. It must have been moving because Doyle began to cry, as had I. A lady came over, who must have been his wife, and joined in our passionate sharing. Eventually, he put his arm around me and thanked me for this fond farewell. He stood by my car as I got in to leave, telling me to be careful and to have a safe journey. We said our goodbyes, and he walked away.
As I got in my car to leave, contemplating the route to take to go home, the stage crew continued their work. Finally, Doyle packed up the last of his own gear and headed off toward the bus with his wife. It was the end of an era, the last of a dying breed. As I drove away, there was a deep sense of finality to it all. But, before my vehicle had traveled very far down the road, the memory of something special, something that had changed the way I thought about Doyle, returned. It was something that I should have shared with Doyle but somehow forgot.
My memory was about something that happened 11 years ago in May when my family and I were attending the Doyle Lawson and Quick Silver Bluegrass Festival at Denton, NC. The week had been a multitude of fun, fellowship, and play. My son Jonathan and I had stayed for the Sunday model church service, where brother Dale Tilley would deliver the sermon. As was the custom, my son and I arrived early so that we could sit up front behind Doyle’s band, who always sat on the left side in the two front rows. There, we patiently waited for the church to fill and finally for Doyle and the boys to make their entrance. Sitting behind them and hearing brother Dale deliver another fiery, enlivened sermon and hearing the most beautiful congregational singing, one couldn’t help to be thankful. But it was toward the end when my son leaned over to me and said that he wanted to stay after and “Be Saved” that my heart melted.
When the time was right, I motioned to brother Dale that my son wanted to speak with him. So, as all the people, including Doyle and the band, filed out, we patiently waited. There in that little model church in Denton, NC., my son gave his life to Christ. It was just he, Dale, and myself. Tears fell from my eyes as I heard Dale walk Jonathan through the texts in Romans 10:9 and to hear my son confess his sins and accept Christ into his life. Brother Dale prayed us out and we rose from our kneeling position off the floor. We walked feeling a renewed sense of life toward the back door, the only exit out of the church. It had been nearly 15-20 minutes. Brother Dale had taken his time to make sure my son was confident and that what he was about to do was something not to take lightly. So, the feeling that we would emerge from the walls of that white clapboard building alone, just us three, was all that I anticipated. However, when we opened the doors to exit, there, lining the steps going down from the front door, stood Doyle and all of his band. Doyle certainly had other destinations to get to and a schedule to maintain, but he stood there at the top, waiting to congratulate my son on his decision. The tears flowed even more.
Yes, that was the day that my previously made image of Doyle Lawson, one of thinking that he was purely a showman and that his faith was simple to make the audience more engaged, was washed away. There outside that little church in a dusty field, a man that spent his life sharing his music with strangers, a man that made it his life to support his family through the difficult challenges of traveling the festival circuit, became a man to me who walked the walk.
That was the feeling that I awoke with, thinking that had I only shared that with Doyle, “Surely it would have made him feel even more blessed about his retirement, that he had done something wonderful for yet another person in his journey of life,” I thought to myself as I realized the sun had yet to rise. So much for all the fanfare, the awards, notoriety. To know that a man made his living around a gift from God, and that along the way, touched people’s lives by quietly sharing his faith, not as a boisterous performance, but as Christ would have done, without pomp and circumstance, but with humility and grace made all the difference in the world.
Yes, this will forever be the real Doyle Lawson to me.
Thanks for all you gave and all that you have done, Doyle. May your retirement be rich with countless blessings from the Lord.
“I can’t add more days to my life, so I’ll add more life to my day.”
– “Life to My Days”, Doyle Lawson and Quicksilver.
Sitting here this morning and thinking about the year’s end and time, a thought crossed my mind. If we knew the day we would die, how much more would we strive to live each day leading up to that fateful moment? Would we plan a going-away party? Would we spend all that we own so that there would be nothing left, like someone stranded in the desert, draining the last drop of water from their canteen? It certainly would put a Life Insurance salesperson out of a job. One might guess where this thread is going, but for a minute, let me look at another aspect of this thought that has permeated through the din.
Be the Light – Lux Lucet in Tenebris
Taking this concept a step further, what if there were restrictions set by the government as to when that date would be when your time here on earth would end? As we face what seems to be a paralysis of life through the relentless fear of Covid, a term known as “Ageism” begins to creep into my thinking. According to Miriam-Websters, Ageism is defined as “prejudice or discrimination against a particular age-group and especially the elderly.”
Why, you ask, would you think of that?
Looking forward, one can see where authorities have already started dictating who is most essential or groups that are high risk and that these are the ones that should receive the first doses of the Covid vaccine. While on the surface, this seems purely logical, you might want to ask, “Who gets to decide, and is it the same everywhere?” Take this idea a few steps farther, and you might begin to see the reason for my concern. Will we someday be asked to voluntarily end our lives for the greater good, or will we be dismissed from receiving a life-saving vaccine for the sake of allowing the more essential to live? If we are asked to volunteer, will it be to save the greater good, or will it merely be to escape? One must consider these ethical questions when our leaders begin to make decisions that are out of our control.
Ageism is not a new ideology. Several themes in literature and movies to which predetermined ages were set for humans come to mind. Like the movie Logan’s Run or the short story, Law of Life, by Jack London, societal restrictions imposed term limits, so to speak, on how old humans were allowed to live. The principle is that the elderly would eventually become a burden to society. Finding a way to eliminate them, either through voluntary choice or government-imposed regulations, became the accepted fate in these literary pieces. In Logan’s Run, some awakened to this horrific belief and rebelled. In the latter work by Jack London, the reader is left to decide if the choice was detrimental or a matter of preservation of the tribe – thus preserving the greater good.
Going back to one of the two extremes, either volunteerism or authoritarian imposition, the movie Soylent Green brought to light the former. When Sol Roth (Edward G. Robinson in his final film role) had seen enough, he went to the assisted-suicide facility known as “Home”. His friend, and star of the movie, Thorn, played by Charlton Heston, watched in the control room as his friend experienced his requested ending. As written in the article from the web page, “Greatest Movie Death Scenes, the author describes how the movie portrayed Sol’s end. “He had chosen a poignant, painless and suicidal death in the euthanasia clinic’s chamber. He was put to rest (to “go home”) with orange-hued lighting, classical music playing (Tchaikovsky’s “Pathetique” Symphony No. 6, Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony No. 6, and segments of Grieg’s “Peer Gynt Suite”) and projected video (of a peaceful and “beautiful” green Earth ages ago when animal and plant life thrived and there was no pollution).”[1]
You see, my friend, when we begin to go down the path of worldly existence, we face an end where we feel we are either forced to choose or accept a fate administered by others. But there is another option that I began with before this chasing of the rabbit down his proverbial hole. We have a choice to live this existence without fear of being terminated before our natural being is finished. We have the option to choose a life where the end is up to us – albeit not one of a sad mortality, but rather, a new beginning.
As Jesus told his disciples, “The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”[2]Again and again, Christ told all that would listen, “that whosoever believeth in my shall have eternal life.” When we believe and follow Jesus, we can’t help but realize our true calling and the reason for our very existence on this earth. We are not simply another body taking up space, consuming resources that others might need more than us. We are here to be a light for those around us. The greater we share that light with others, the more intensely we serve. When we finally understand this purpose for which we have been made, we finally begin to see how each day is precious. As if we were opening that surprise gift we had always wanted, we should awaken each day as if it were our last.
While we say goodbye to another year, somewhere, someone has just given up hope in tomorrow. Somewhere another has decided they cannot go on living in a world in which there are no freedoms, further lock-downs, and the threat of increased government crackdowns for the sake of the greater good. Some are saying 2020 was the worst year of their lives, but some have never had a good year – ever. It is these people, those that are genuinely lost, those without hope, those that you don’t even realize have given up; these are the ones that you must strive to think of the words to the son, “I can’t add more days to my life, but I can add more life to my day.”
May your New Year’s resolution be to be the light for those around you and for those whom you have never met, nor may never meet. Sing from the mountain tops, shout it from the deepest valleys, Jesus Christ is the true salvation – Believe in Him and find that your eternal life begins when this life ends.
Looking forward, one can see where authorities have already started dictating who is most essential or groups that are high risk and that these are the ones that should receive the first doses of the Covid vaccine. While on the surface, this seems purely logical, you might want to ask, “Who gets to decide, and is it the same everywhere?” Take this idea a few steps farther, and you might begin to see the reason for my concern. Will we someday be asked to voluntarily end our lives for the greater good, or will we be dismissed from receiving a life-saving vaccine for the sake of allowing the more essential to live? If we are asked to volunteer, will it be to save the greater good, or will it merely be to escape? One must consider these ethical questions when our leaders begin to make decisions that are out of our control.
Ageism is not a new ideology. Several themes in literature and movies to which predetermined ages were set for humans come to mind. Like the movie Logan’s Run or the short story, Law of Life, by Jack London, societal restrictions imposed term limits, so to speak, on how old humans were allowed to live. The principle is that the elderly would eventually become a burden to society. Finding a way to eliminate them, either through voluntary choice or government-imposed regulations, became the accepted fate in these literary pieces. In Logan’s Run, some awakened to this horrific belief and rebelled. In the latter work by Jack London, the reader is left to decide if the choice was detrimental or a matter of preservation of the tribe – thus preserving the greater good.
Going back to one of the two extremes, either volunteerism or authoritarian imposition, the movie Soylent Green brought to light the former. When Sol Roth (Edward G. Robinson in his final film role) had seen enough of the chaos in the world he lived. Deciding to end it all, he went to the assisted-suicide facility known as “Home”. His friend, and star of the movie, Thorn, played by Charlton Heston, watched in the control room as his friend experienced his requested ending. As written in the article from the web page, “Greatest Movie Death Scenes, the author describes how the movie portrayed Sol’s end. “He had chosen a poignant, painless and suicidal death in the euthanasia clinic’s chamber. He was put to rest (to “go home”) with orange-hued lighting, classical music playing (Tchaikovsky’s “Pathetique” Symphony No. 6, Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony No. 6, and segments of Grieg’s “Peer Gynt Suite”) and projected video (of a peaceful and “beautiful” green Earth ages ago when animal and plant life thrived and there was no pollution).”[1]
[1] Greatest Movie Death Scenes, Soylent Green (1973),https://www.filmsite.org/bestdeaths20.html
You see, my friend, when we begin to go down the path of worldly existence, we face an end where we feel we are either forced to choose or accept a fate administered by others. Sadly, the movie Soylent Green focused on the natural world and disregarded the spiritual. In the 70’s when the movie first aired, I had yet to enter the walk of faith on which I trod today. The scene of Sol slowing dying as he watched the old world, the one he once knew in his younger years, pass away. To my teenage mind, it was heart-wrenching. Had the movie looked at the end from a Christian lens, Sol never would have been at the “Home” to start with. But if he had been coerced, forced to end his life, the beauty that played before him would have only been a prelude to what was to come.
Yes, there is another option that I began with before this chasing of the rabbit down his proverbial hole. We have a choice to live this existence without fear of being terminated before our natural being is finished. We have the option to choose a life where the end is up to us – albeit not one of a sad mortality, but rather, a new beginning.
As Jesus told his disciples, “The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”[2]Again and again, Christ told all that would listen, “that whosoever believeth in my shall have eternal life.” When we believe and follow Jesus, we can’t help but realize our true calling and the reason for our very existence on this earth. We are not simply another body taking up space, consuming resources that others might need more than us. We are here to be a light for those around us. The greater we share that light with others, the more intensely we serve. When we finally understand this purpose for which we have been made, we finally begin to see how each day is precious. As if we were opening that surprise gift we had always wanted, we should awaken each day as if it were our last.
While we say goodbye to another year, somewhere, someone has just given up hope in tomorrow. Somewhere another has decided they cannot go on living in a world in which there are no freedoms, further lock-downs, and the threat of increased government crackdowns for the sake of the greater good. Some are saying 2020 was the worst year of their lives, but some have never had a good year – ever. It is these people, those that are genuinely lost, those without hope, those that you don’t even realize have given up; these are the ones that you must strive to think of the words to the son, “I can’t add more days to my life, but I can add more life to my day.”
May your New Year’s resolution be to be the light for those around you and for those whom you have never met, nor may never meet. Sing from the mountain tops, shout it from the deepest valleys, Jesus Christ is the true salvation – Believe in Him and find that your eternal life begins when this life ends.
Thanks be to God.
May your New Year’s resolution be to be the light for those around you and for those whom you have never met, nor may never meet. Sing from the mountain tops, shout it from the deepest valleys, Jesus Christ is the true salvation – Believe in Him and find that your eternal life begins when this life ends.
Thanks be to God.
[1] Greatest Movie Death Scenes, Soylent Green (1973),https://www.filmsite.org/bestdeaths20.html
“Say not ye, There are yet four months, and then cometh harvest? behold, I say unto you, Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for they are white already to harvest. And he that reapeth receiveth wages, and gathereth fruit unto life eternal: that both he that soweth and he that reapeth may rejoice together. And herein is that saying true, One soweth, and another reapeth. I sent you to reap that whereon ye bestowed no labour: other men laboured, and ye are entered into their labours.” – John 4:35-38
It had been a long day at school, so it was not by choice that I sat waiting for the salesperson to work on our order at the wireless store. I tried to remain positive and tell myself that God had put me there for a purpose. At that present time, it wasn’t obvious; at least not yet.
We had put off switching to a new wireless carrier for some time, but it had finally gotten to the point if we wanted to communicate as needed, we were going to have to use the service that provided the best coverage for the area in which we lived and worked. The young man that waited on me was very kind and extremely courteous. As he began the process of transferring data from one device to the other, we started talking about where I worked and found that we had mutual connections. It wasn’t long before it became apparent, he was a believer too. In fact, after we shared some personal testimony, he told me that he had given his two weeks’ notice just moments before I stepped foot in the door to answer his calling to become a youth pastor at a nearby church.
It was then I began to feel the presence of the Holy Spirit ripple across my forearms.
Suddenly, his phone rang, and he had to excuse himself from our conversation.
About that time message appeared on my old phone which we had not yet ported over to the new service. The news was from a distant relative, one that I’ve never met in person. A few years back, I had shared with him part of our Waldensian ancestry and how we came to be. He seemed interested, but not beyond just wanting to hear about those ancient names. The story beyond, from whence we came didn’t seem to intrigue him; at least not from my vantage point. Once I provided him the information, we only remained in contact through shared “likes” on social media. However, from what I saw from his posts, his life once was devoured by pleasures of the flesh. He found his comfort at the end of a bottle, so the pictures said. But the message at that moment that came to me as I sat in the cell phone store in Boone was that God had found a way to reach him.
As I read with eyes of joy, he told a friend who had inquired about his post, “I haven’t touched a drop in over a year.” He then went on to say how he was regularly attending a church in his community. My heart leaped for joy, and I stood up, rejoicing out loud. The questions raced through my mind, “Had I somehow planted a seed?” “Did God use that seemingly insignificant contact years ago to begin working on my distant cousin?” Those and many more rushed through my mind as my new friend got off the phone smiling at my exuberant demeanor.
“I guess that was good news,” he said pointing at my phone.
“Oh, yes, more than I can explain,” pausing to gain understanding of what had all just transpired.
Then the words of Jesus came rushing in, “And herein is that saying true, One soweth, and another reapeth.”
In all things, no matter how small, nor how insignificant, God has a purpose. As I stood there in that small store, I had found another soul that had recently taken another leap of faith. As we talked the thought of another time and place when my just being somewhere was God using me, and again, it felt the same. Yet, now as I stood there, another soul had found something greater than that which is in the world.
With each tiny seed we plant, we may not reap the harvest, but it is God that will bring the crop to fruition. It is not us that will change that being. It is not our doing that will cause another to turn to Christ; it is God, and God alone.
In all that we do, there is a purpose.
Last Saturday, as we sat watching the Western Piedmont Community College graduates ascend the short stairway to the stage, the feeling of a proud parent swelled our chests. In what seemed like yesterday, I was holding him in my arms for the first time, watching the helpless lifeform, totally dependent upon his mother and father to survive. Our son now stood in his graduation regalia receiving his diploma, then leaving the stage, returned to his seat. His independence is a culmination of 18 years of love, care, and patience. What God hath given life unto us, we have taken that responsibility and nurtured him into adulthood. “For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required,” reads Luke 12:48 And so with eyes brimming with moisture, we know that soon he will leave us. It is only natural.
We had planted the seed. It is up to him to continue to allow it to grow. But the seed had begun to ripen much earlier.
For those many years of his life, we have taught him how to live in faith. At the tender age of 10 years, he found Christ. His salvation came in a little model Church at the Denton Bluegrass Festival. Every year, Doyle Lawson would offer those who wanted to attend, a church service at the close of his festival. One of his good friends, brother Dale Tilley, would most often be the preacher. And so it was this Mother’s Day weekend when we sat in the row just behind Doyle’s band, that we heard brother Tilley bring another spirit-filled sermon to a weary group of bluegrass campers. After brother Dale Tilley had nearly finished his altar call, my weekend was just about to get even better. Without any idea what was about to happen, my boy leaned over to me and whispered the words into my ear that I will never forget, “I want to be saved.”
My heart leaped for joy.
Upon his request to wait until everyone had left, I motioned to brother Tilley that we needed to talk, and as everyone ushered themselves out, the door closed and we were alone. Brother Tilley directed us through the process as we knelt in prayer and supplication. There on that ancient wooden floor of the little white clapboard country church, my son spoke the words and prayed the prayer to ask Christ to come into his life. With tears in my eyes, we stood up to leave. It was just brother Tilley, my son and I. As we reached the back doors of the church, we opened them to find that we were not alone. There under a clear, blue Carolina sky stood Doyle Lawson and his entire band. The entire entourage was still standing in a row on the steps of the church, they had paused from their busy schedule, waiting to celebrate my son’s decision.
The tears ran down my cheeks as I watched entertainers turned Christians welcome another one into their fold.
It is a day I will never forget.
The seed had been planted, but another reaped the harvest, but we rejoiced together.
God has a purpose in everything we do. What will become of the young man at the cell phone store? I may never know, but it really doesn’t matter; God knows.
One day, when we reach that far distant shore, there will be a welcoming into the fold. We’ll find the angels of the Lord standing in a row, pausing for each of us, ushering us into those heavenly gates. On that day, the answers to the questions we never knew will become obvious.
Those were the years that spanned my friend’s life.
Too soon he left us, too soon we had to say our final farewell; at least on this side of heaven.
We have only the moment now in which to live. None of us are guaranteed a tomorrow.
As I reflect back on the few times that I was blessed to be in Randy’s presence, I can recall the joy he shared and how you came away feeling better, no matter the circumstance.
It was very evident early on, Randy was a brother in Christ.
I first met Randall “Randy” Lee Shumaker at the Denton Bluegrass Festival one blustery May. He welcomed me into a circle of pickers and from there our friendship continued to grow. We often sat during late evenings around the campfire sharing stories, or around the table sharing meals; fellowship like none other. I learned that he had been diagnosed with cancer in 2008 and had only been given a few months to live. It seems from that point on, Randy chose to live each day as if it were his last.
It is not uncommon at bluegrass festivals to hear a jam session last until the sun begins to rise. Randy jammed long and hard the first few years at the festival, long past my bedtime. I would rise early and find Randy up ahead of me, trying to catch the first rays of the sunrise coming up over a nearby pond. Sometimes, I’d awake to find him already returning from the fishing hole or up and gone, never wasting a minute of his day. I was also aware as time progressed, so did his cancer and so did his fervent attempt to ward off the inevitable.
Randy and I kept in touch off and on apart from the bluegrass festival. He was a devoted father and grandfather. He was part of the Second Chance Bluegrass Band and had written a beautiful song, Bend in the Road, which had been inspired by another band member that had died of cancer and a book of the same name by Dr. David Jeremiah. Randy and the band performed it at a contest held at the festival one year and one first place. As I watched the video once more after his passing, I couldn’t help feel that Randy knew that someday, we’d be watching him sing about himself. During that day’s performance, they also sang a inspiring version of, “There is a God.” As I sat and listened again and again, part of me felt Randy was already there watching and smiling in acknowledgment; yes, there certainly is.
God gives gifts to some of us; some more than others. What we choose to do with those are up to us, but sometimes you find someone that shares them and themselves so openly, so warmly that you can’t help feel good about knowing them; this was by brother in Christ.
I remember vividly one bright morning at the festival. Randy had been through a rough night. Sleep was difficult, even in his own bed at home, but the camper bed was making life miserable. However, he chose not to dwell on the negative but rather pushed on, through the pain. When I met him that morning, he was up early, demanding more of what might be his last trip. He greeted me cheerfully with a “Great is the day the Lord hath made,” to which we both replied, “Let us be glad and rejoice in it.” We both laughed and shook hands.
He shared with me that he had debated coming that year but knew there might not be another.
Sadly, my family and I weren’t able to return this past year. Sadly, I didn’t get to see my friend one last time, at least not on this side of Glory.
From a distance, I watched as time progressed and he began to weaken. The final days were hardest of all to watch. There was a poignant moment when a post arrived on FB. His son Caleb was sworn in by the local Police department, in Randy’s own home complete with the mayor and police chief in attendance, something that obviously took a lot of planning and change of procedures, but then again, this was for a man that touched so many lives in a positive way that it was not unimaginable; this was the Randy I knew. This was just more confirmation of what so many already had realized.
Randy taught me many things but one thing he shared most of all, live each day to its fullest in your walk with God.
Too soon my friend, too soon.
Warm up the band, get that mansion for Ms. Kelly ready, for someday we’ll meet you just inside the Eastern gate.
