Tag Archives: god

by | September 4, 2016 · 10:30 pm

Saying Goodbye…

“This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls….” – Jeremiah 6:1620160228_154502~2

If you haven’t heard by now, I was released from the Trail of Faith this past week. They said that the board had decided to take a different direction for the Trail and as a result, eliminated the Director position

My heart sank.

Selling the farm, the animals, the constant moving for the past year, first from the farm to Valdese and then from the storage to the temporary house, then from the temporary house into the new house; a year of moving that has yet to be completed.

We had yet to settle down when the news came.

Standing at another crossroads in my life, I can choose to look back, or I can choose to look forward, the choice is mine. I can turn to my left or right, but in whatever decision I make, there is one thing that must remain constant, one thing that I must not forget; the very reason for where I am at today; my faith in our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Had we known then what we know now would have made the same choice to take that leap of faith? Would we have sold everything to follow the calling? Should we have asked those who had dealt with the Trail what their track record was for turnover? We can look back and ask those questions which seem obvious in answer, but the truth is, when we are compelled to answer the call, it matters little what the outcome of our journey becomes. More importantly, our eyes should be fixed on the ultimate goal, the heavenly victory.

Does it hurt?

Of course, it does; yet if we think of it as a stepping stone; just another piece of the puzzle in God’s big plan, then the reward that awaits behind the door that has yet to be revealed will be far greater than the one that just closed. Our most significant triumphs have yet to be revealed as we continue to follow the path He has chosen for us.

Yet the pain continues. What bothers me most is not the hurt inside, but rather, the pain is for all those that I had shared my testimony with; those that I had truly divulged my heart and soul, assuring them that when they visited the Trail, they would indeed be blessed as we would share the Word of God with them through the story of the people of the valleys. Now, in the midst of this painful loss, I will not be able to guarantee their receiving what I had so fervently promised. Many will only receive the same old history lesson as before, while a few might get lucky and get one of our more passionate guides, like brother Barry. Yet, I know in his mind he might be missing me as much as I will be missing him in my absence. We had become brothers in arms, so to speak. Barry and many more have been hurt by the decision, but like true Christian soldiers, we all will carry on one way or another.

What I will miss most is hard to say.

There were countless moments of the Holy Spirit coming down upon us at any point in a tour. There were the prayers over those in need, those hurting and wanting healing, and many other inspirational stories that continued flowing like a beautiful, sweet river of love from our Heavenly Father. Gone will be those moments when you saw the look in the eyes of your guest as they understood the sacrifices of those gone before and how God had sent them to hear the story for the first time. Many would go away with a greater appreciation for the Word, and that was my greatest wish of all; that each person regardless of denomination, background or heritage, would leave the Trail knowing that “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory…”

As much as I wanted to call it my mission, God obviously has other ideas. To Him, this was just part of the plan for which I was called.

My journey has just begun.

Once more I find myself on my knees praying for peace, wisdom, guidance and strength.

Where will I be in a month from now; Heavenly only knows?

As the Bible tells us, when God closes a door, He has another one opened and waiting for us. Our job is to find that door and walk through it. I’ve been given one month’s severance pay; hopefully, time enough to figure where that other door awaits.

As brother Patrick told me this week with regard to the next door, “The greatest triumph is yet to come.”

Yes, the future is uncertain in human terms, but in Godly perspective, the best is yet to come.

In all I do, I will always continue to say, “Thanks be to God.”

For if it is God’s will, then it shall be done, and so here is a link to my resume in case you know of someone hiring….link to resume

10 Comments

Filed under Inspirational

Tagged as , , , , , , , , ,

by | August 28, 2016 · 9:34 pm

The Day The Music Almost Died…

“Deep calls unto deep at the noise of Your waterfalls;20160828_074017
All Your waves and billows have gone over me.
8 The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime,
And in the night His song shall be with me—
A prayer to the God of my life.”-Psalms 42:7-8

Music is as soothing as it is spiritual. A universal voice that transcends age, race, and time.

There is something about the sound of the crashing throes of a waterfall cascading over rocks that reveal to us the voice of God. While we are subject to our human condition, we can but for a brief moment experience what the Almighty has in store for us on that glorious day when we meet Him in heaven above.

The essence of our soul is moved and caressed by the soothing noise, and if we hesitate long enough, we can allow the Spirit to touch us within, the “Deep calls unto deep.” Like waves crashing against the rocks at the seashore, void of growth or obstructions, we too can be cleansed of our stresses and toils. “All your waves and billows have gone over me.” Waterfalls are the epitome of the multitude of angelic choirs where the combined sound of their magnificent congregation unite as one, their harmonies becoming a single voice, the voice of God. The depths of the bass so deep, it resonates our very being, the ringing of the highest soprano reaching beyond our ability to comprehend in this earthly domain, and every harmony between spread across a spectrum so vast it cannot be seen from shore to shore. There is so much beyond our comprehension we cannot begin to fathom its complexity, so melodies become a door, the opening through which God can speak.

Music is the voice of God.

Martin Luther, in addition to being one of the founding fathers of the Reformation, was also very musically gifted. He was known as the “Nightingale of Wittenberg.” Hymns were so essential to his ministry that he said this about music with regard to our soul and being something to lift us up rather than to bring us down, “In the midst of life we are in death’ shall become ‘In the midst of death we are in life.” Luther felt that music could even allow God to break through even the most hardened heart.

Once in a while, we are given the gift of music, should we choose to accept it. Some do and with it, change not only their own lives but those around them. It is no wonder that those who possess this ability also find other gifts and talents. “For to everyone who has, more will be given, and he will have abundance; but from him who does not have, even what he has will be taken away.”-Matt 28:29

The soul of a man, born upon the wings of wood, wire, and song, became more than just that which carried them through the darkest of times. Long before and after Luther, many found comfort in the tunes that were passed down from one generation to the next. The spirit through which they endured hardships was buoyed by the sound of voices drifting up in the smoke over campfires and fireplaces in the hidden hollers of this land. Their story kept alive through those tales put to ballad became the very essence of what created the name of this town that I am now visiting; Nashville.

From within the Museum of Country Music, display after display, memories, and tokens of lives lived in front of audiences that only wanted to hear the strains of that ancient spirit keep their own flames of past thoughts alive spoke to us from the past. Words that touched the heart enough to pull us up from the sorrows and pains of everyday life; these are the ones that stood apart from the rest. These strains became the classics that stood the test of time when again and again, mankind’s own greed tried to circumvent what was pure and true. Even today, this battle between good and evil persists; humanity will never learn.

As we made our way through the streets of the big city, we happened upon the essence of the dark side; that which was never meant to be. The evolution of commercialization of sound has created a breeding ground for all manner of inequities. Like the children of Israel that had gone astray, the sin and idol worship of what was meant to be sacred has now turned into the Sodom and Gamora of its day; Honky Tonk Row. The overpowering secular nature of humanity is on display as men and women parade around in drunken debauchery seeking that which cannot fulfill. Their carnal nature on exhibition, nothing hidden as the voices inside these dens of inequity attempt to reach an audience that is only there to take, not to give. The few who survive this world of utter decadence may someday surface to fame and glory, only to find that which they gave up, their very soul, is now lost. Few, yes very few survive unscathed, all are touched by their journey. Walking away as fast as we could, we all felt as if we wanted to shower away this image from our minds.

This was not the world of music we had known. Ours was a more pristine image of a simpler time now seemingly gone. Like those grainy films of Balcomb Lunsford, we wanted to live in the past. This harsh, dog-eat-dog reality was something my children had never seen in person. Yes, this was more of a wake-up call than we had planned. Part of our perception of the world of music died there on those streets; innocence had passed.

But the soul of the music never dies.

Deep calls unto deep inside, where only the Spirit of the Lord can reach, our flame continues to burn. The world outside cannot diminish the blessings within.

Somewhere, far, far away, hidden away below the protection of a mountainside, perhaps near a remote hidden waterfall, a lone fiddler sits playing the strains of ancient songs, simply and purely for the satisfaction of a terrestrial audience of none. The sweet refrains of the instrument unite with those of the heavenly discord and together they rise into the air as one.

God’s moment of glory, for an audience of the heavenly multitude.

Thanks be to God.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Inspirational, Music, Uncategorized

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , ,

by | August 21, 2016 · 10:12 pm

Morning Mist…

20160813_202324_Pano

A lifetime; that’s how long it took to get to this point.

The aches and breath were laborious.

Nothing felt good other than just the knowing that I was out once again exercising my body in order to retain some sort of muscle tone. The past three weeks have been a blur of moving, back-breaking lifting, sweating, and blood. In fact, we have constantly been moving something from somewhere for most of this year, so the opportunity to find myself running along a clear, flowing mountain river was a blessing in and of itself. Below my path, the water of the Johns River cascaded over rocks, sending a chorus of soft voices upward. Their song touched my soul, and my spirit was renewed.

The sun had yet to rise as I ran in the cloud that encompassed the world around me. Massive oaks towered overhead; sentinels in this part of the small valley that cupped the river into its palm and channeled it along its winding route. Those dark anthems disappeared into the mist appearing as if they might be pillars holding up the sky.

The world was slowly awakening.

Before long, my mind was free of the physicality of my toil as one curve in the road led to another. God’s beauty lay all around. Birds called to one another as the breeze gently swayed branches over the rippling waters that ran beside me. Like in another lifetime, when thoroughbreds would race me along their pristine pastures in Ocala, I now ran with another, one whose flow was even smoother than those gentle beasts. Together, side by side, we traveled; one the essence of life, while the other dependent upon that which flowed.

Sometimes, when my day is done, I can sit upon the rocks and watch the water flow, like the clouds passing overhead. To know there is a purpose in it all would only require one to admit that there is also a God. The incalculable variables that are necessary for one object to depend upon another cannot be fathomed once one begins to try to explain in human terms what this is all about. A lifetime of wasted energy could be spent only to find in the end, the solitude of sitting on the edge of a secluded mountain stream can answer those unending questions. In our youth, we believe there is no end to time, so we go forth without plan or purpose, living for the moment, planning on a whim what tomorrow might bring. As life progresses we realize, sometimes too late, there is a finality, a purpose we must seek. Sadly, many are never afforded that chance to realize that they have fallen short of seeking Him. Those who do choose Christ as their savior, find they have been given the most precious gift of all, thanks to His sacrifice for our sins so that we may have life eternal.

As I wiped the towel across my forehead mopping of the sweat off my brow, there was the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction in knowing that I had started my day on a good note. Steam rose from my coffee mug as I peered thankfully down at the pages of my Bible. The morning sunrise was just beginning to burn through the fog around the porch where I sat, turning the pages into a golden hue.

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory…”

The Word spoke to me again and once more my life is blessed.

Somewhere off in the distance in the dark woods a dove cooed.

Yes, this would be another beautiful day.

Thanks be to God.

 

 

Leave a Comment

Filed under Inspirational, Nature

Tagged as , , , , , , ,

by | July 17, 2016 · 9:37 pm

God Be With Us Till We Meet Again…

“For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to salvation for everyone who believes..”-Romans 1:16

They come for many reasons.

Today was another first.trail8272015

On another Sunday, I was called to be at the Trail. Last week, a congregation held their church service inside the Church in the Cave exhibit. Today it was a group from the Concord area coming to tour. Although it was a Sunday visit, it didn’t diminish my feelings for being at the Trail on what is most people’s day of worship. To me, it was another way of honoring God, and so, where two or more or gathered, there He would also be; and so it was.

When the group first booked their reservation, they were within our limits of just one tour guide, but over time, the party grew until it was clear by this morning, that I too would get to lead a tour once again; meaning, we would have two separate groups. Brother Barry, our original guide for the original smaller group, had just returned from the valleys, so I was anxious to hear him lead once more and to provide insight only one having been to that faraway place could divulge. So when we began the introduction, I asked that Barry lead that segment for both groups, which he was glad to do. His introduction was so overwhelming, so complete, my heart questioned if I was going to be able to be up to today’s task in the shadows of such a magnificent guide. Silently, as we moved from the topographical map to the movie room, I lifted up a prayer asking for wisdom and guidance for the right words. God would hear my plea and soon, I would be back in the moment.

As we left the movie room to embark on the Trail, Barry asked the visitors who were some of his good friends from the area along with some of John Bradshaw’s family, the host of “It is Written,” to follow me. My heart leaped with fear and humility. Barry had offered his beloved and esteemed guests to my care, and now the honor was placed on my lap. Again I prayed, “Lord, please be with us and help me to allow your Word to be most evident.” In the blink of an eye, there was a surge of energy pulsing through my mind as all of the history and scripture began to surface in my head. Again, He was listening.

We walked through time, …as time stood still.

Moment by moment, God allowed me to share the history of the people of the valleys, the Vaudois. From my sharing of the possible first encounter with the disciples, while standing in the Barbas College to the singing of hymns in the Church in the Cave, my dedicated group of visitors began to learn about the past and their host. Slowly, monument by monument, my heart poured out to them as the story came alive in my mind and the scriptures continued to intertwine the words from my mouth.

Concerned about the time, I was hesitant to share my testimony once we entered the Ciabas Church, but once more God spoke, and I listened. There my story of faith, realization, and discovery allowed for me to tell the tale of how my own understanding of the Waldensians came to be. There I had to ask the question, “If you were never told of Jesus, as I was never told about being Waldensian as a child through adulthood, how might your world be different today?” Then to carry it a step forward, “How can you go into the world and expect those around you who have never heard of Christ, to act any differently?” It was then I explained how many of my own family had fallen away from their ancestral faith. They had never known of it, so what was there any different in their lives to change them? What did they have to stand for? And yet, they had everything to lose. Would they have been different had they known all along? Would they have made the same decisions in life? Had we been told, at least we could have had a choice. Likewise, those who received the invitation to accept Christ, they also have a choice to make once they are asked. Once our conscious mind is awakened, God gives us the free will to select which path we will take.

It is up to us to choose.

The centuries passed and before we knew it, our tour groups were reunited at the Community Oven. My day began just after sunrise, rekindling the fire in the massive stone structure in preparation for the baking of the bread. As weary as my body was, there was no hint of it in that instance. My wife and son met us at the oven, and together we shared the bread with our guests. My heart leaped with pride as I watched Tron’s carrying on the family tradition, alongside our brother in Christ, Barry, under the shelter of the maple tree near the end of the Trail; a nearly perfect ending to the end of a picture perfect day.

As my dad use to remark on such days, “The sky is blue, the grass is green, and the birds are all singing; …beautiful, just beautiful.”

Yet, there was one more special treat that God had in store.

As the tour came to the conclusion, we all made our way back to the Visitor’s Center. Barry and my family had to leave, but most of our guests remained to eat their lunch. Meanwhile, I stayed off to the side cleaning up and providing support as needed. When they finished, the group came toward the front of the Center to say goodbye.

They all gathered before me, united as together as a family would do before bidding farewell. It was then one of them made the announcement that they all wanted to say goodbye to me. They then began to sing the hymn, “God Be With You Till We Meet Again.” My heart leaped once again. In an instance, I was a small boy once more, back in New Harmony hearing my grandma and my Aunts singing in church, their sweet voices united in one accord. Before I knew it, tears began streaming down my cheeks as they concluded in sweet, blissful acapella harmony. It was another precious gift from God; another first.

The words were gone; I was speechless.

One after another, I shook their hand’s goodbye, trying to apologize through my tear filled eyes.

We concluded with a picture on the front steps, me and my new found family; brothers and sisters in Christ.

Yes, we said goodbye, until we meet again. What a sweet heavenly day that will be.

As one lady reminded me as she left, there are so many without the very thing we are blessed to have because of what Christ has done for us; Hope.

Yes, today I was blessed once more.

There is hope.

Thanks be to God.

9 Comments

Filed under Inspirational, Religion

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

by | July 11, 2016 · 9:33 pm

What is your life?…

“whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.”-James 4:14

20160705_205946_HDR

 

 

 

 

Dark vestiges of time lie dormant below the mist that forms above them. Silently the satin wisps pass from one peak to the next, vanishing before our eyes as we watch in awe the scenery before us which no cinematography could hope to capture. I silently pray that God will allow my mind’s eye to see this beautiful picture before me as long as I live, never ceasing to remember. It is too precious to lose. Alive and breathing, the earth savors the coming darkness. The day has been complete, now it is time for mankind to sleep, retiring to his safe abode as the beasts of the night come to life, devouring their prey and completing the circle of life.

We are but a moment in this story; a fraction of a segment in time, we are but more than a vapor that appears then silently fades into oblivion before it can be recognized. As fleeting as the clouds that pass overhead, so does the fog caresses the mountain peaks below, each separated by nothing, yet so far apart, they cannot touch. As the evening turns to darkness, layer upon layer the earth’s breath rises until showers of flying dew drops kiss our faces as they shoot up the face of the mountain, rising to meet their sisters above, becoming one in a dance of majesty and spiritual joy. Our fragile flesh desperately tries to understand all that passes before it until our minds become numb with the exhilaration of the moment at hand. We lick our lips and cherish the taste of wetness of clouds that have come to ask us to dance.

The ethereal visions before us are fleeting at best. The ground upon which we trod may appear as solid as the granite, but it too will someday pass away and become nothing. We are only the dust from which we have come and will return. Our ashes will scatter upon the winds, becoming one with the fluid shapes that swirl around us as we sat watching those fallen clouds once more rise to meet their heavenly brethren. Likewise, someday, we too will meet our Father in heaven, when we rise upon His coming, as the dead in Christ will rise first. In our sin, we all have fallen, but when we become one with Jesus, we are then able to ride those unseen currents that will take us one day to walk with our Lord. As he gave His life for our transgressions, He ascended to sit at the right hand of the Father where he awaits.

As our spirits become wisps of air, our bodies will be made whole, and our reunion with those gone on before will become complete.

The clouds may pass away, as will we too someday, but when we know Christ, our reunion will be no less glorious, and that will be the everlasting, everlasting that no human securities can fathom; our Heavenly home above.

None of us know what will happen tomorrow, our life is more fleeting than a vapor, yet we can trust that if we know Him, we shall someday walk at His side in Glory.

Thanks be to God.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Inspirational, Nature

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

by | July 9, 2016 · 9:32 pm

Among the Branches…

“He sends the springs into the valleys; They flow among the hills. 11 They give drink to every beast of the field; The wild donkeys quench their thirst. 12 By them, the birds of the heavens have their home; They sing among the branches. 13 He waters the hills from His upper chambers; The earth is satisfied with the fruit of Your works.” – Psalm 104:10-13

The morning light was still creeping through the foliage that lined the riverbank as we stepped foot into the chilly waters of the Johns River. It was our first family outing in a long, long time. Each of us found an extra spring in our step as we hurriedly unloaded the kayaks. The morning clouds had disappeared as blue skies welcomed us overhead. Off in the distant, before I could even finish changing from my hiking boots to my river shoes, the echoes of the Whippoorwill called. Instantly, my mind was transported back to the days of my childhood. Those evenings near the banks of the Wabash River, we would often hear that night bird’s cry as the shadows ebbed closer to the Sycamore just off Grandma Tron’s front porch. Yet, here he was calling in the morning hour, “Odd,” I thought to myself. The Wabash and the evening Whippoorwill were a lifetime away, yet the smell of the watercourse nearby reminded me of the present adventure, so I finished skayakinglipping on my shoes and quickly walked to the water’s edge.

Looking back, the night bird singing in the morning would only be fitting to what we would find as the day progressed, as the comfort He afforded us on our journey would appear almost surreal. We had only planned to just float the river and eat a picnic lunch. All that transpired beyond that was nothing we had never envisioned. As they always say, “If you want to make God laugh, make a plan.”

We are still very much learning the ropes of kayaking, and today’s journey would be another first; a two-hour trek. Unlike that river of memory, the Wabash, the Johns River flows from its beginnings in the Pisgah National Forest high up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. There in the wilderness, each bend, each turn of the waterway revealed another picturesque scene that made you want to stop moving and soak it all in; yet the flow of the life-giving fluid continued. The cascading sounds of white water blended with the gurgle of the paddle as we dipped them serenely into the clear mountain water. All around us birds too numerous to count, called out their chirps, whistles and songs as the symphony of nature treated us to a special performance. Each new turn, each new vista exposed granite walls towering above as our craft silently slipped past, like the time beneath our course.

Rapids after rapids, we found excitement in our journey. Gone were the endless days of moving, countless hours of driving between homes. Gone were the frustrations of living in the tiny house with one bathroom. Gone were the thoughts of countless hours of preparation, before dawn fires in the oven, late night clean up following festivals, and all the tensions that arose between. It was as if God was satisfied with the fruit of our labors and was sharing this day with us. Yes, we were more than thankful.

If that was not enough, He had more plans in store.

We had not finished eating our picnic lunch when, in true Godly fashion, several of our former JAM Band members would unknowingly, and independently find their way to where we were spending the afternoon following our morning float. It was more than humbling to see friends that had become like an extended family find their way into the wilderness, each showing up in staggered arrivals. Once again, as it is with all true friends, we picked up where we had left off in what seemed like years since we had last seen one another. There was so much to tell, share and discuss. Six of the ten band members were present, simply out of the blue, all in one place. To believe it was possible even if we tried would have been nearly unthinkable; yet, here they were. The children have all grown and are all now young men and women. In my eyes, they were all children once again, laughing and enjoying just being together once more. It was a thing of beauty.

Like the river, you try to absorb as much as you can, but there is never enough time.

Before we knew it, our short time together required another goodbye; those painful farewells you try to avoid.

The flow of life continues unabated.

We so desperately want to sometimes stop the current and hold onto the moment, like the breath of life we take to dive below the waters, we must consider those precious moments and store them away somewhere in our memory to recall later, and pray they are never forgotten.

We had made our way to the streams that flowed amongst the hills. There they provided nourishment for all the wild beasts of the field. But the nourishment was more than physical. In all that we do, our souls sometimes need to be replenished with the happiness that keeps our spirits afloat. Sometimes, we must find the time to drift along with the current, if even for a few minutes and let the world pass us by as we listen to Him. He may not speak, he may not move, yet sometimes the message is to just sit back, relax and enjoy His presence and the presence of those we love.

Today we found peace and happiness once more as we basked in the presence of the Lord along with our loved ones.

It was surely a beautiful day.

The flow of life continues, and we cherish each bend in the river.

Thanks be to God.

2 Comments

Filed under Inspirational

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , ,

by | June 27, 2016 · 10:07 pm

Deliverance Through Prayer…

The prisoners had succumbed to the elements long before their hope for survival began to diminish. As hundreds of men died daily, their guards watched in vain as the extreme drought in their region of Georgia dried up all creeks and wells. Livestock were being set free to keep them alive in hopes that they would find some source of sustenance on their own. The war between the states was far away, yet in Andersonville, hell on earth was real. As Union soldiers lay dying, calling out in their last breaths for mother, a few firm believers gathered to seek God in prayer. They asked for His deliverance from the torture and despair, they had nothing left to lose except life itself. In the distance, sounds of what many thoughtprovidencespring were cannons began to rumble later that night. The winds started whipping the sparse flaps of the tent city within the crude walls of the Confederate prison as the rogue storm cell passed over. Suddenly, a crash and roar of thunder rolled many out of their pallets shaking the ground as the bolt of lightning struck just inside the outer prison wall, just inside no-man’s land. At that moment, water began gurgling forth from the ground and by morning, the trickle had become a flowing stream. There as the sunrise began to make a glow on the horizon, grown men sat by the brook crying as they held their withered, parched hands below the life giving fluid and raised it to their blistered lips, soaking in the blessing one gulp at a time.

Many never lived to see that sunrise.

The other evening, I saw where a former colleague of mine had a birthday. Curious as to how he was doing, I reached out to him. He replied and we began catching up. As time passed and we began to share our feelings on life and where we were in our walk with God, I could quickly feel my old self come back through the description of my friend’s words. Trapped in the prison we had created of our own doing, he was as once was I held captive. His chains were a mortgage and a company that literally kept you from escaping from one shift to another; his was as was mine, the dreaded third shift. The fear of leaving it all behind holds you within that cell until eventually you either are terminated against your will or you die without experiencing the life you always wanted to live; his and mine were to serve the Lord. To many, termination was an answer to prayer. Others would find their freedom and escape but at a cost. Many had chosen a journey deeper into the secular world, the price they would pay would be severe. Yet, some would awaken to the fact that the life they were living was void of faith or prevented them from serving God. It was these few who would eventually say, “Enough is enough,” and begin to pray to God for deliverance, as did those prisoners in Andersonville. Miraculously, those prayers would be answered, time and time again.

In the Bible Jesus told us, “For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.”

As every veteran knows, no matter the branch of the military in which you serve, the object of the Drill Sergeant is to break each recruit down, strip them of their identity until they are a shell of a human. Then, once they have stripped them of “who” they are, they begin to refill the void with the soldier they want you to be. In other words, you are programmed to perform in the way in which supports that branch of the military. When we truly give our lives to Christ, we essentially must do the same thing as those young recruits; stripping away our former selves until there is nothing left of our previous inequities to keep us from following him with every ounce of our being.

An elderly man sat next to me in the Paddock Mall one day, back in 1982. We were both waiting for our wives to finish shopping and like most guys, we would rather sit and wait outside the store than stand idly inside. He told me his name was Roy, and before I knew it, he began telling me the story of his survival in a Korean prisoner of war camp. Roy told of how they would strip them naked in the dead of winter and put them in cages like animals and then hose them down with fire hoses. He said there were many times he didn’t remember being dragged from the cell; wet, cold, frozen. Roy talked about how he survived life-threatening injuries. They would put rats in the window sills in order to grow maggots. Once the gruesome larvae were the right size, they would place them into the gaping wound of their fellow prisoners so that they could eat away the dead flesh before gangrene could set in. Roy rolled up his pant leg to show me the indentation from the wound, where once muscle had been before the injury. He continued to share with me how he survived to see their liberation, but barely. He was released from the Army and given all his back pay that had accrued while being a POW. Roy was told by the Army doctor’s that he only had a few months to live, so depleted was his body from the lack of nutrition and injuries. Figuring he was going to die, he left for Florida, bought an old barge and began drifting from one island to the next in the Marathon chain. Roy looked at me and said, “It was then that I talked to God and asked him toimagesE0DYW4ZT do with me what he would. I didn’t care if He called me home or not. Each day I would wake up and catch fish or shrimp and each day I would thank Him for another day.” Roy then shared how eventually, after a year or so, he realized he wasn’t going to die. The day he walked in the front door of the supply shack at the marina instead of the back door where he had always gone before, he knew his life was going to change. The old man that had always waited on him through the rear entry didn’t recognize him at all. Roy had shaved his beard and cut his long hair before stepping inside; he was a new man. God would take Roy down many roads, but there we sat that day as he shared his testimony.

When we turn our lives over to God, all things are possible; we too can become new men and women. Roy realized that he had nothing left to lose, giving all he had was easy. Unlike my friend, Roy’s life was at what he thought was its end. The soldier’s in Andersonville also had their backs against the wall to where they too had nothing left to lose, but to seek God. However, when we have so much, so many worldly possessions, it becomes hard for many to seek Him. In that instance, we can find it even harder to walk away from it all. Satan wants us to cling onto the things of this world so our choices become difficult if not impossible; cars, TV’s, houses, beach-front-condos, club memberships, hefty mortgages, and so on become our chains.

As people age, we begin to look around us and ask ourselves what we can offer those we love most when we’re gone. Those things of this world tarnish, age, and rot. The things that matter most are those that continue on long after we’re gone. Those everlasting impressions we make on our children, grand-children, and fellow Christians are what matter most. Those impressions can become the wake-up call so many need to hear, so that someday, they too may make that choice to serve God. Hopefully, they won’t wait until their backs are against the wall.

The Union Army prisoners held in Andersonville prison would name the water from the spring that saved their lives, Providence Springs. The water still flows today inside the memorial park in Andersonville, Georgia; a testament to what is possible when we give it all over to Him.

When we are stripped of everything, either by force or by choice, we can then be free to make the decision that can change our lives and make us new, “For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.”

Today chose to lose your life for His sake, and the life you will find will be eternal.

Do so today, there may not be a tomorrow.

Thanks be to God.

1 Comment

Filed under Inspirational, Religion

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

by | June 25, 2016 · 9:03 pm

Protected: Christians Unite…

This content is password-protected. To view it, please enter the password below.

Enter your password to view comments.

Filed under Religion

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

by | June 5, 2016 · 9:38 pm

New Sacred Ground…

“In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread Till you return to the ground, For out of it you were taken; For dust you are, And to dust you shall return.”- Genesis 3:19

They come for many reasons.

For each person, the journey is different as the unique story which made their life.

Today was unlike any other I’ve known to date at the Trail. The call came in while we were still in route back 20151012_090530from the farm yesterday. Our trip had been shortened by events that caused us to return earlier than expected. I was thankful in a way. The work had been hot, non-stop, grueling, and dirty; cleaning out twenty plus years of accumulation in our farm’s barn. In addition, we mowed, bush hogged and weedeated to add to the toil. So when we piled into the sweltering truck (yes, there was no working A/C) we were somewhat thankful to be returning. It wasn’t with complete satisfaction that we were leaving, still knowing there was much more to be done, but we would be back in a couple days to try to finish. Nobody ever said God’s work was easy.

The request had been from guests staying at the B&B in Glen Alpine if they could spread the ashes of their family members who were of Waldensian ancestry at the Trail of Faith. We were honored to be able to accommodate their wishes for their loved ones. It had been as the founding fathers of the Trail had one day hoped, that their creation of a place that would someday become more than a history lesson; that it would someday be a place people would consider sacred enough to connect it to the real valleys. Today was another one of those confirming moments.

When I pulled up to the closed front gate with a couple minutes to spare, the family was already parked and patiently waiting. Some had already begun searching for suitable places where to present their final resting place for their beloved. The skies overhead appeared threatening. They had called for rain, but for now, it waited. God was surely with us.

As I began unlocking and opening up various parts of the exhibits, they began sharing with me the history and story behind those who had passed. The photograph of the deceased they showed me was like so many taken in the days of black and white film. Both of the parents were dressed in their Sunday finest. They looked at me from that distant past, as if to say, “We’re gone, but with you even now.”

There were a son and daughter with their respective families in attendance. Each had a unique perspective and what was even more enlightening, was that they had been to the very valleys where their families had lived. As they shared with me the tales of travel and touring, I couldn’t help think of brother Barry and his wife Sharyn, who were there at this very moment walking those same trails and high peaks that this family was now conveying with me from their memory. As we moved from one exhibit to the next, their voices would speak of the exact place that existed and what they experienced during those visits. Through their voices, in my minds eye I could feel our altitude extend to those of the Alps and in my mind, we were there. The overcast sky added to the feeling of being in another place and time.

Each day I live vicariously through Sharyn’s email updates but my hunger to be there in those Waldensian valleys grows with each passing moment Today’s visitors only added to that fever to travel. It was almost as if God was telling me how much more there was yet to come after the ordeal of our current move. But the parallel goes beyond a relocation of a terrestrial homestead; yes, there is so much more to come in that Heavenly home. In all that we do, there is so much to learn so that when we are of the moment, we can drink in ever more so that the precious time allowed becomes amplified. Yes, there is so much more to come after this life. In many ways, it is precisely how our faith develops with our walk with Christ. The more we understand, the more we can comprehend not only in the Word but from every experience in our journey. Our hunger for God’s word should be just as fervent

They thanked me for the time and faith with which I shared, but the day’s blessing was when I told them how I wasn’t even supposed to be there if my itinerary had gone as planned. It was another Godly moment, and another one of His plans come to fruition in more ways than we could ever imagine. Yes, in many respects, their visit was a confirmation but in more than one aspect. They had found a resting place suitable for their loved ones, but what is more, we found a special connection to a place so very far away, to a place that I have yet to trod upon that sacred ground. Now, from this day forward, as each day awaits me at the Trail, I can feel as if part of that real valley is with me through the new ground spread from the ashes of a life well lived in a place that I can only hope to someday see in person.

One step at a time, one day at a time, we continue on. When our time is right, the Master calls us home but until then, if we follow Him, our pathway will be lit by His lamp and with that light, our lives become so much greater and brighter.

Tomorrow, we continue on our path to reach a new home.

One step and one leap of faith we carry on.

Prayers for strength, wisdom, traveling mercies, good health, and guidance in the days to come.

Thanks be to God.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

by | June 2, 2016 · 9:11 pm

The Dark Road We Travel…

“Who among you fears the Lord? Who obeys the voice of His Servant? Who walks in darkness And has no light? Let him trust in the name of the Lord And rely upon his God.” – Isaiah 50:10

 

The dark clouds loomed over the mountain as I turned onto the back road, taking the one less traveled. As I made the sharp right turn, I could see the storm brewing ahead. The map had indicated a quicker route to my destination, well below the highlands, so I knew in advance that there would be many twists and turns. Initially, it was nothing more than an overcast scenic drive until rain began to fall lightly. As my little car and I traversed farther and deeper down into the depths of the valley, the light above continued to fade until it was nearly night. To add to the deprivation, rain began to fall harder. I crossed over an ancient bridge and then it was as if I had passed through a time warp. The pavement gave way to a dirt road that was quickly turning into a muddy slush. It was then I noticed that the world around me seemed to slow to a crawl. Instinctively I began to look for signs of life, something to show me that my sense of time warp was only that; just a feeling.darkroad

Suddenly, the darkness became more prevalent and thoughts of horrible movies depicting people of this region as monsters began to surface in my head.

“No, don’t give in,” I told myself as the path ahead began to grow more tortuous, “Trust in God.” The water was now falling in torrents from the sky, and my wipers were doing all they could to splash a path on my windshield big enough for me to catch glimpses of the deteriorating roadway ahead.

The creek that ran alongside the roadbed was swollen and in places, massive rocks stood protruding out from the wall of the mountain. Dark, sullen trees towered above the walls of boulders, all blanketing the road like a tunnel. For a split second, I looked down at my phone, and it was literally dead, no connection, nothing. “If something were to happen to you, it might be weeks before they would ever find your body,” said the voice in my head as I watched a dilapidated shack pass as my little vehicle and I continued on

“Darkness and death surround you. Surely this is the psalmist wrote about,” I mused inwardly.

Around another couple turns it looked as if my sense of time change had been correct. The house that abruptly appeared around the bend seemed to confirm that I had gone back in time several centuries. Its outer shell was weathered, barely clinging to the shards of paint that had one time made it look new; a time long, long ago. Vines and weeds nearly obscured the base of the home from sight making it seem as if it floated in space and time. I carefully made the hairpin turn around the old house and then I noticed her watching. Up in the gable end of the weathered abode was an open window. The rain had abated enough to be able to see the ghostly figure of a person sitting and watching through the thin, threadbare curtain that danced in the breeze. From the whisper of the image of the old woman that sat in the darkness watching me pass I could only imagine the stories that lay hidden; the life left untold. If one were to stop, would they be accepted? If one were to stop, would they ever emerge back into the real world or would they become one with this isolated people? If one were to stop, would their body ever be found? Again and again, darkness kept trying to pull me down, but I fought on.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff comfort me.”

darkhomeAlthough the old house was covered with wooden siding, it caused me think of those stone houses in the pictures of the Cottien Alps. “This could just as easily have been like the valleys from where my ancestors came,” was the next thought. There were places there, like here, where stone structures were tucked back in places where no human would be expected to live, yet there they existed, even today. From there it wasn’t too hard to imagine how those French and Savoy troops marching up into those dark, foreboding valleys to persecute the Waldensians might have felt when they reached gorges and passes deeper and darker than this. The fear that must have run through their minds would have been compounded by the forces who awaited them. God had knowingly put a people in a place where they would be protected. Yet, there I was in the safety of my car but could still sense a hint of fear. How much better would the early settlers of this region of North Carolina and those invaders of the Waldensian valleys, have felt when facing unfriendly natives? Although outnumbered, both those indigenous Alpine mountain people of old and those native Americans would have known their land like the back of their hand granting them a certain advantage. Switchback after switchback, the images only became more and more primitive. It felt as if any moment, I would make one last turn and my headlights would find a solitary figure standing in the middle of the road, waiting for me.

The pathway soon opened up, and I came to a “T” in the road. There was no sign, no GPS, only my memory of the map I had seen earlier. As I paused thinking of which way to turn, my mind again reflected on all the tasks that I had unsettled earlier in the morning before leaving for this trip. There was no way for anyone to get hold of me so if there were a question that needed to be answered, it would have to wait. The whirlwind of duties, tasks, and to-do lists came to a screeching halt.

As the wiper kept time, back and forth, I quietly sat in the car at the empty intersection somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains. There was no one coming from behind, no cars passing before me; I was alone in the wilderness. The scriptures tell us when we seek Him, we will find Him, and He will listen. So, as the rain poured down, the rivulets of water washed beneath the tires, I bowed my head and prayed to God.

The raindrops on the rooftop made a calming pitter-patter as my thoughts went to the Lord.

There were so many that needed healing, so many that needed comfort in their hour of loss, and all those things that I had left undone. “God will take care of it all in His time,” I told myself. My prayers were lifted up to Him. Yes, I turned to Him in prayer, seeking Him and found Him and He listened.

I finally closed with an Amen and began to drive off in the direction that felt right, the path that He said to take.

So I listened and obeyed. I vowed to trust in the Lord and to let Him work out all the details.

“He’s delaying you on purpose,” I told myself, “slowly, surely, and certainly in His time, it will shall be done.”

As I finally reached a semblance of civilization farther down the mountain, the phone began to reconnect to its communication signals and a flood of updates arrived. One of the updates was about an unsettled problem that I had left undone, the one that I had left it up to God to work out; it had actually been resolved due to a cancellation which allowed my request to be entered. It needed a miracle to happen. In Godly fashion, He prevailed once more.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of our lives and hopefully, yes, hopefully if we listen and choose correctly, someday we shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Thanks be to God

Leave a Comment

Filed under Inspirational, Religion

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , ,