Yesterday, as I sat and watched the thick cloud bank slowly envelope Grandfather, I was reminded of incoming tides upon ancient seas. The jetties and rocks of life, like those distant mountain peaks, were soon to be covered by the rising waters of time. Before long, he had vanished, obscured by a billowing blanket of gray, blue, and white. Grandfather Mountain was not gone, this I knew, for I had seen him. It was not necessary to hope for his existence because by seeing, we know that he is still there. Yet, we cannot foretell what the coming storms will unveil. In a manner of hours, or even days, we may see a changed mountain, one blanketed in a snowy, majestic white mantel of winter; this is the wish of many.
painting by Timothy W. Tron
With
wanted anticipation, some may see the impending storm and look forward to a
delay in the upcoming return to school. While others may fear what is to come
knowing regardless of the road conditions, they will be expected to be at their
posts or jobs. Likewise, those who walk in faith are much like those gladly
seeing the possibility of winter storms; the former seeks the hope of life
eternal by knowing that regardless of what the storms of life may bring, they
have the hope of salvation unto our final dwelling place on high. “For we
are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why
doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with
patience wait for it.”[1]
But
just as a child, torn from their home due to circumstances which have created
living conditions so dire that the state has to intervene, they seek hope to
eventually return home. Yet, what they don’t fully understand is that in order
for them to return home, their parents or guardians must change. The addiction
or bondage to the sins of the flesh must be broken. The downward spiral of
drugs, alcohol, otherworldly lusts has permeated their lives so deeply that
they often have lost sight of caring for their family, if not themselves. We’ve
all see the posted mug shots of convicted criminals and seen the effects of
meth, just to name one, on their physical being. Inside, there remains a
remnant of the human being they once were.
Somewhere
within, there is a flicker of a soul.
Like
those school children looking forward to the coming snowstorm, the Apostle Paul wrote of coming storms and
afflictions, “Giving no offence in any thing, that the ministry be not
blamed: But in all things approving ourselves as the ministers of God, in much
patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, In stripes, in
imprisonments, in tumults, in labours, in watchings, in fastings;”[2]His point being, that those storms of life, the daily challenges and trials,
only make us stronger Christians. Meanwhile, those of the world suffer greatly because
their faith is nonexistent. There is nothing to embolden. In their despair,
they seek earthly means to fill the void. The Apostle Peter wrote about them saying,
“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion,
walketh about, seeking whom he may devour: Whom resist stedfast in the
faith, knowing that the same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that
are in the world.”[3]
Alone,
those lost parents cannot conquer the darkness that holds them captive. It is
by prayer and the hope of their children, the faith of which they often do not
know, that they can be lifted up. These thoughtless parents reckless abandon for
life is conveyed by those whose tender young hearts who are willing to still
have faith. In their undying hope that their parents will change, unto the day
they may return to a new home, those orphaned children never give up.
Similarly, we seek faith to eventually return to our heavenly home because this
world is not our home. Yet, we are not left as orphans to fend for ourselves,
for our heavenly father awaits. “That
at that time ye were without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of
Israel, and strangers from the covenants of promise, having no hope, and
without God in the world: But now in Christ Jesus ye who sometimes were far off
are made nigh by the blood of Christ.”[4]
Even
though the parents of those orphaned children may be so lost in their sin that
they don’t even realize the cause of their forced separation, nor do they know
how to free themselves from the enslavement of their fleshly additions and
afflictions, Christ gives us that answer. Through the power of the blood Jesus
Christ shed upon the cross, we may overcome the darkness that seeks to devour
our world and flood us with iniquities beyond our comprehension.
We
cannot achieve this freedom alone.
In
Hebrews 11:1, we are reminded that “…faith is the substance of things hoped
for, the evidence of things not seen.” Having held true to my faith in
these recent months, I can tell you from personal experience, the harder the
clouds of turmoil flooded my soul, the harder I fell to my knees. There were no
immediate replies. There was no blinding light that threw me off my horse and
into the road. There were often days of silence. Nothingness.
“But
nothing worth having is ever easy,” – Theodore Roosevelt
As
the scripture tells us, “But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with
patience wait for it.” From having seen prayers answered, it is then when
we start to understand how one can have “evidence of things unseen.”
Prayer is one of our most powerful spiritual tools. Daniel prayed five times a
day. When his enemies learned of his daily practice, they used it to entrap him
which landed him in the den of lions. Daniel didn’t fear but resorted to what
he knew best, prayer. His hope of release from the expected doom was his answer
to faithful prayer.
As
we approach a future that sometimes appears, if anything but bright, we can be
reminded that there is “hope.” As we awoke this morning and the clouds had
departed, Grandfather was there as the sunlight began to cast its golden rays
upon his face. His crown, a mantel of snowy white, now proudly unveiled for all
to see.
The
storm had been weathered.
There
will always be the dawning of a new day. Don’t let the darkness of the light
consume you. Although it may feel as the darkest hour is just before dawn,
don’t let fear overwhelm you like the storm clouds smothering Grandfather. Let
the light of Christ shine upon your life, and through you, such that those
around you are enlightened by the Holy Spirit within your own. Choose to be the
light in a dark world, like the beautiful snow-covered peaks of Grandfather
this morning, their light reflecting the sunrise, like golden shields of hope.
Tomorrow
is a new day. Rise with hope in your heart
and let your light shine for all to see.
This evening, Christmas Eve to be
exact, the fire in the hearth hisses and crackles at me. The warmth soothes my
weary bones, like the stones upon which the firelight flickers against, warming
them, bringing them back to life. Late this afternoon I took a break from
wiring the Retreat and took a much overdue walk. It was an early Christmas gift
to myself, you might say.
The sky was a perfect Carolina
blue with the sunlight filtering through the barren branches of the forest. My
body felt sluggish, not something I had remembered in recent times. From the
recent medical prognosis, it was apparent that I would never be as fast or as
strong as I once was physically. Those sub-five-minute miles will only be a
memory from now on (unless, of course, I’m driving in a car). In fact, as the
saying goes, “I’ll never be as good as I once was.” It wasn’t quite the gift I
had expected. As my weary legs finally carried me back to the Retreat, I was
thankful just to have been able to walk along the whispering creeks and waterfalls.
The family was still gone on some
last-minute Christmas Eve errands. So many spent the recent days hurrying and
fretting over preparations for the perfect day when family and friends will
fill their homes. I was thankful to be free of that burden and able to relax
for a change. Back inside my little cabin in the woods, I stoked the fire back
to a roar and sat back sipping on a hot brew As the burgeoning flames cracked
and popped, my mind pondered the recent scripture that would not leave my head;
from the book of Luke. It is probably the most quoted gospel this time of year.
From the point when Mary has received the direction of the Arch
Angel Gabriel, to the immaculate conception, there is a story within itself. “And the angel answered and said unto her, The
Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow
thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be
called the Son of God.”[1]
Like the
spark that lights the fire, the hand of God came upon Mary, and in that
instant, the being of God in the form of human flesh began to develop in her
fetus. The “Most High” overshadowed her. The Greek word for “overshadow” is
comprised of two words, which basically describe a cloud of energy that
enveloped Mary, at which point, Christ was literally conceived. To understand
in our simple humanness is more than a struggle. Yet, the indescribable doesn’t
stop there.
Later, when Mary and Joseph reach Bethlehem, as it was foretold,
Jesus would be born in a lowly manger, a trough from which animals eat.
Remember the prodigal son and how it was described that he fell so far that he literally
ate out of the same troughs as the pigs which he tended. Our Lord and Savior
was born in such a condition, in a feeding trough. And when Mary had wrapped
him in swaddling clothes, rags if you will, he was ready to receive the many
guests that would soon arrive.
Unbeknownst to Mary and Joseph, out in the neighboring fields of
Bethlehem, shepherds were standing watch over their flocks at night, when
another Angel came to them. Now before I jump into the scripture that you have
probably heard a thousand times, allow me to precede it with something that you
may have never thought of before.
As I have already alluded, this was not just a common birth. This
was literally God being born for the first time ever, in the form of human
flesh. It was a sentinel moment in the history of God. This was a moment in
eternity in which the significance, although entirely missed by the spiritual leaders
of the time, would so impact the entirety of Glory above that it would be as if
all of heaven’s Angels, for a moment, would stop everything and come to earth
to attend the birth of a Savior, the son of God. For the first time in all of
creation, God was coming to earth, to be born of a lowly handmaiden, in a
stable. Had those Pharisees and Jewish leaders understood the prophecies of
which they supposedly had learned so well, they too could have joined the
unimaginable moment with all of creation, but they would not. They would be
lost to the moment and forever because of their unbelief. What they would miss
would be the gift of a lifetime, of an eternity. God would come to earth to
live and die like one of his own creation’s so that he would feel our pain,
know our suffering so that when he would eventually defeat death, and his blood
would flow freely down the cross, we would know that God had given us the most
precious gift mankind would ever know; His Son.
Now, reread the scripture with that picture in your mind, “And
there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch
over their flock by night.And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of
the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said
unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which
shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a
Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall
find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly
there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and
saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the
shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this
thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.”[2]
Notice how the shepherds feared the initial Angel and how it
comforted them until they were somewhat at ease. It was then, once they had
been calmed that the enumerable multitude of Heavenly hosts appeared before
them. So great was the light that it could be seen beyond the local pastures of
Bethlehem. Luke would later recall, in separate writings, how many
philosophers, scientists, and spiritual leaders would recall seeing the bright
light in the sky and how each of them would separately interpret the scene. Imagine
the lowly shepherds, uneducated, poor, and of simple faith, and how their
hearts might have stopped but for a moment in awe at the sight before them; the
heavens filled with Angels on high. The angelic illumination was so bright that
the mere mortal shepherds would have nearly been blinded, without and within. They
literally had been moved beyond belief as can be seen by the following passage.
“And they came with haste, and found
Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made
known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told
them by the shepherds.”[3]
These men, who were in charge of other men’s flock, left their
post and ran into town. The mere fact that they abandoned their livelihood to
seek out the babe in swaddling clothes would tell you of their sheer panic. Adrenaline
rushing through their veins, they sought the length of the city for the
child. They didn’t stop until they found
him. When they finally reached the stable, covered in sweat, breathing heavily,
they hesitantly entered, knowing that this was no normal child for which they
were to admire. There before them, glowing underneath the watchful eye of his
mother, was the babe of whom the Angel had spoken. Mary had instinctively picked
up her baby to protect him when this mass of strangers began to enter the
stables. But to her disbelief, they now fell at her feet and began to worship
her child. They would eventually share with her and Joseph the reason for the
worship and awe of the infant child. From there, the shepherds would not stop.
They would leave the stable and go far and wide sharing their story.
Eventually, they would return and share with her the wonderful reactions and
praises for which the Christ child had heralded. Mary’s head had to be spinning
at all that had transpired in just a matter of months. She had gone from a
simple peasant to the mother of the Son of God. She had to be dreaming, she
might have told herself more than once. And as you can imagine, “But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”[4]
Luke’s interview with Mary and her recanting this story, as it was likely
shared with her many times by those exact shepherds, so impacted Luke, a
physician, that he kept it just as it was told to him. In fact, all of the
story, from the immaculate conception to the birth is recounted through the
eyes of this glorious and wonderful physician, as he was known in his time.
That being said, you can now perhaps better understand the significance of the
timeline for which these events took place. Perhaps, even more, that you may
think about this precious gift we all have been given, even now, as the realm
for which God gave his only begotten Son so that any who should believe shall
be saved.
Tomorrow, if not already, you will hopefully have family
and friends over to open gifts and to celebrate Christmas. When the wrapping
paper is finally collected, and everyone has had time to contemplate their
gifts, both given and received, some may take time to reflect upon the reason
behind the most significant holiday on our calendar, at least to most people.
If allowed, ask them to listen for a moment, and share with them something special.
Share with them the greatest story ever told.
In life, we reach a point when we only reduce our
biological stability, perhaps maintaining for a while, but eventually, we will
slow a few more steps, rise a bit slower, and recall even less. Yet, through it
all, we should be thankful in our daily walk, no matter the struggles, and
remember that we have been given the most precious gift known to man. Nearly
2000 years ago, a present was wrapped in swaddling clothes and placed in a manger,
not under a tree. Those who were there to receive did not need to unwrap their
gift to know its importance.
Tomorrow, pause for a moment and give thanks to God above
for the greatest gift of all.
We stood in a
circle. Our right hands made into fists as our arms were extended into the
middle of the circle, like the hub of a human wheel, one placed upon the other
as each of us bowed our heads in prayer. The boys like to call the
configuration the “popcorn prayer,” a term they coined on their own. With the
first of the young men that began, the next would continue the prayer until it
came around the circle to the last person.
Crossnore Children’s Home
In the past, we
would have had a morning devotional before going to breakfast, followed by a
closing prayer. But this day was different, it was late Sunday afternoon. Unlike
the times before, today they asked that we all pray together before we said our
final goodbyes. In unison, they asked that I close us out by saying the last prayer.
It was one of the
most poignant moments of my life, humbling to the core; it was their last
request.
I had come to say
goodbye, a goodwill gesture that was sincerely from the heart. It had been a
tumultuous month, one that had left me more than tired. Several weeks earlier,
when I had shared with my supervisor that God was leading my life’s journey
away from Crossnore, I also asked that if they needed any extra help, I told
him that I would be willing to fill in if needed. He thanked me for that offer.
At Crossnore,
there is always a need.
And so, after many
sleep-deprived and beleaguered days, my footsteps carried me one last time from
one end of the Crossnore campus to the other. Those young men had left an
undeniable mark upon my heart. For many of the children at Crossnore, their
pasts are much like our own, better left behind. Many are at the home because
of no fault of their own, and with that, you immediately seek to find the
source of the mindset that acts out in ways that are not normal; because if
anything, the trauma through which they have survived are anything but normal.
It was because of this and much more that I couldn’t leave without at least
letting them know that I would miss them.
Along my path
that somber Sunday afternoon, the majestic oaks that had at one time provided
comforting shade during the hotter months, had now given way to become barren,
twisted towering bones, reaching to the azure blue sky above. They too, showed
empathy for my departure, like elders who had seen so many come and go, telling
me in their own way that they would forever be with me. The chilly winds blew
leaves across my path as I made it to the all teen boy’s cottage. Many would
prefer another assignment than to have to deal with young men at their age.
My own experience
was quite different.
From the outset,
once they realized I wasn’t going to be a push-over, we began to connect. One
might wonder if it had been the many years of working with the Scouts that
allowed me to understand them? Perhaps you might ask, was it because of the
time spent working with the Junior Appalachian Musician program? Or, maybe, you
might conjecture, it was teaching High School math to teens their age that
helped me cope? Whatever the reason one might attribute my connection to those
boys, I believe it was the hand of the Lord who had put me there for that
season, as short as it may have been. The reason I felt it was God, was because
it wasn’t until I asked to share the devotional with them that I could see
something new; a change in their demeanor toward my presence. It was when one
of the young men-(the one that had been there the longest, over 6 years to be
exact)- opened up to me, that their reactions began to make me take notice.
They said that because of his years of tenure at the home, he had become so
hardened that he would purposely keep you at bay, knowing that before long, you
too would fall by the wayside.
Who could blame
him?
He had seen so
many come and go. And up to that point, he could have just as well said the
same thing about me. But when he would purposely make it a point to greet me or
go out of his way to tell me to have a nice day, it became apparent that God
had moved him, through me, in spite of who I was. All of these thoughts swirled
around in my head like the fallen leaves upon the ground that cold, blustery
afternoon.
There had been so
much to contemplate. For if the walk had been days, there would have been
enough recent memories and experiences to occupy my thoughts the full breadth
of the journey.
Recently, one of
my new colleagues at the college asked, “How are you today?”
I replied, as I
so often do these days, “I am blessed, I hope you are?”
He then later
asked what I had meant by the word “Blessed.”
The question
stopped me in my tracks.
My mind flashed
back to the beginning of the summer and the terrible drought, and trials that
my life had encountered. Through the loss of a job, loss of income, loss of
medical coverage, to the near-fatal illness, to the days of unanswered prayers.
The doubts and troubles piled up like logs against the bridge when the river
rises. One by one, their pressure building until they either burst through or
until they are swept over the bridge by higher waters. My life had become that
bridge, inundated by the flooding trials that seemed to come, one after the
other, each one building upon the other. At one point, the bad news had become
so common that it became laughable. “Just how much more could one take and
still survive,” I began to ask? My life began to feel a little like Job in the
struggles, and a lot like Joseph at the bottom of the dry well; there was nowhere
to go but up.
Then, like once
before in my life when it seemed as if all hope was lost, God answered. I don’t
recall the exact day or time, but there was a sense that only a few may know or
understand. Like a warm wave cascading over your soul, the feeling of things
that are about to change washes over you, and it is then that you know deep in
your heart that it is going to be okay. It’s moments like that when Hebrews 11:1
makes perfect sense, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the
evidence of things not seen.”
My sweet
co-teacher, Mrs. Rush, said it best last year when she was trying to comfort me
about having to leave the school when she said, “God is going to answer your
prayers in a way that is going to be far greater than your wildest
expectations.” She continued, “The answer won’t come soon, but rather, it will
probably be at the last moment when you feel like all hope is gone. It is then
that He will finally give you an answer.”
She was as
prophetic as anyone I have ever known. Was God speaking through her? I don’t
know, but to this day, I have to believe he was.
To answer my
colleague, my mind dug through those countless days of anguish and despair, and
the words began to form. They had to pass through the filter of that prayer
with those boys in the Cottage as we all stood around in the circle and prayed.
The memory of what happened during that prayer still lingered in my soul.
From the bottom
of my feet, the sensation began. As God poured the words through my lips, the
Holy Spirit began to fill my body like a pitcher is filled from the bottom up.
The electricity began to rise through my legs, torso, and eventually put my arm
into the pile of hands. The words continued to speak as my entire body began to
tremble. Attempting to retain my composure, I pressed on, asking God for this
moment to never end. “They have to feel this,” my mind reflected while
scriptures began to flow from my heart and out my mouth. The warmth of tears
streaming down my face began to mix with the emotions in my voice until we
finally said, “Amen.”
As I stepped
back, wiping the tears from my eyes, the emotional toll was not just my own,
for it was apparent in their eyes as well. My head was spinning as I tried to
find a way to say goodbye. Once more, there was yet another reason to never
forget, as they asked for a hug. In my heart, the pain of saying goodbye was a
burden that must have shown. One of the boys raced to his room and brought out
one of his most cherished items, a UNC flag. In the spur of the moment, I asked
if we could have them all sign it, “As a memento,” I said. They all happily
agreed, and each one took great care to make sure their name was visible. In a
way, it was as if they wanted to make that indelible mark upon my heart; one,
like the permanent marker upon the flag, that would never fade away.
Those multitudes
of thoughts swirled around in my head as my colleague must have wondered why it
was so difficult to answer a simple question about what I meant by being ‘Blessed.’
It was as Jesus had said to Thomas at that moment when he finally realized that
he as standing in the presence of our risen Savoir. After putting his hand
through the hole in Jesus’ side, his head suddenly became faint. The room began
to spin. Stepping back, trying to regain his balance, he stared in awe at Son
of Man, God in the flesh, who had now defeated death. He was speechless. Jesus
said to him, “Because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are
they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”
Yes, blessed are we
that have not seen and yet have believed. But this was only one part of being
blessed to which Christ spoke The sermon on the mount was full of blessings,
enough to know that when we walk with Him, when we realize we have found our
path only because He has led us upon it, it is then we truly know that we are
blessed.
To my colleague,
I finally said that one should be thankful for being in a place to which they
had never realized they would be in life, by no cause or fault of their own.
He respectfully
nodded in response.
To live or die is
gain, and to know Him, Christ, our Savior, is to be blessed beyond measure.
To all things we
should be grateful, and most importantly,
Thanks be to God.
“And
seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was set, his
disciples came unto him:
And he
opened his mouth, and taught them, saying,
Blessed
are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed
are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
Blessed
are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed
are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be
filled.
Blessed
are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed
are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.
Blessed
are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.
Blessed
are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven.
Blessed
are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner
of evil against you falsely, for my sake.”-Matthew 5:1-11
Each time he returned from the mountain,
his life was changed. Another nuance of who he had become was revealed. He was
forever changing into the new person to which he had sought his entire life to
become. There was no tablet in his arms as he descended from the heights above;
no law; no antiquated precept for which to behold; rather, there were pathways
to distant memories that had once been buried, now unearthed to become the
inspiration for going forward. They had returned as ghosts from his past to
help others around him see the light; that which is the true light. He was not
that light but was there only to help those, through him, believe. Those scars
of life’s experiences became a therapeutic source, something he never
anticipated. Through the catharsis of healing, he could now better understand
his purpose for which God had intended. Through the new journey, there was more
than just the apparent nature of healing spiritually, but physically as well.
Where the spirit is weak, so is the
body. One cannot exist without the other.
Each day as the sun arose, the
scriptures spoke of new hope, new promises to be found.
Each day, the healing within and without
continued.
Jacob, a good friend of mine, had only recently found himself able to once more confidently be himself. His world had seemed to fall apart, one seemingly unbelievable event after another. It was as if anything that could go wrong would. From one loss to the next, it seemed as if bad news were the only guarantee in his life. The stress of so many unanswered prayers continually compounded themselves; dark waves crashing against the bedrock of his soul, one upon the next, until it seemed his heart would break. Pushing it all aside, using every ounce of faith he could contain, he forged onward. “Press on toward the mark,” he could hear the Apostle Paul saying. Every morning he arose, making himself pretend there was a consistency in chaos. The work of the building kept his mind occupied while he communed with the Lord. The blistering heat swayed not his determination. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. When it appeared as if all detrimental events had subsided, a new, more deadly attack came.
Looking back, Jacob could see where the
sultry summer solstice had merely turned out to be the calm before the storm.
Out of nowhere, an insect-borne illness struck.
Jacob was bedridden for days. The excruciating pain, fever, and chills were like
nothing he had known to this point in his life. The doctors were initially dumbfounded
by the test results. Eventually, the prognosis became clearer, and medication
was finally prescribed; but not after Jacob had seemed to hit rock bottom. At
one point, the pain was so intense, the darkness so great, he had prayed God to
take him home. There was nothing more he wanted than to be free of his earthly
body. Broken and shattered, he lay in the pool of sweat as his body felt
frozen. He felt as if he had now found the deepest darkest valley as he lay in
the shadow of death.
The painful hours passed, and Jacob contemplated
if he would ever be able to reach the top of the mountain again. “The deeper
the valley, the higher the peak,” he kept telling himself, through one exacerbating
breath after another.
In the course of searching for answers
to Jacob’s malady, there was another discover; one that had not been anticipated
initially. Jacob’s heart was not functioning as expected. Upon further
investigation, there was a concern of the erratic nature of the heart’s beat,
to the point he was sent to a Cardiologist. Later, the insect-borne disease he
had contracted was found to attack the heart in a way that it would affect the
beating. However, God always has a purpose, even when we think we know why we
are on a particular path, God’s plan may often be something unexpected,
something never imagined.
Eventually, the Cardiologist would find
it necessary to perform a heart catheterization on Jacob. In disbelief, he sat
listening. “What next,” he thought to himself as the doctor shared with
him what to expect. It seemed as if the summer, which he at one time had hoped
to be spent on a whirlwind, inspirational mission trip, had turned into the
summer of incomprehensible horror. A darkness of the most profound evil had
besieged him and his family. In the darkest moments of the storm, he had
continued to cling to the only thing that gave him comfort, the Word of God. He
placed his mind in the shadow of Christ as he continued to listen and felt his
savior envelop him in his arms.
“We might have to put in a stint, should
we find enough blockage, which is what I suspect,” espoused the doctor smiling
with the best intentions.
Jacob’s mind wandered back again, back
to another place and time to another one of those scars in his life.
He and his wife had visited his
hometown. It was nothing more than an opportunity to share with her the place
he grew up. Having left it behind so many years ago, it was as if they were
both discovering it anew once again. During that trip, they met with family
members for supper at a small country diner. In the group was Jacob’s most honored
family member, Uncle Markus. Markus was one that Jacob had looked up too and
admired for all that he had accomplished in his life. His Uncle had also become
the beloved spiritual leader of their family; the outpost of faith since Grandpa
and Grandma had passed. His Uncle Markus had been one of the first men of the
family to obtain a college degree and then went on to become a high school teacher,
and eventually, a college professor. Markus was there along with his wife, Rose,
and two sons. It would be the last time Jacob would see his Uncle Markus and Aunt
Rose alive.
Looking back, that evening in the St. Joseph’s
Diner so many years ago, those in attendance were just a tiny portion of Jacob’s
father’s family. There had been seven siblings total in the paternal family;
five boys and two girls. Likewise, they were a tiny fragment of the fun-filled,
rollicking antics so often characterized by his paternal family. He recalled
how he had bought some cast rubber replicas of morels from Wilson’s Furniture
Store earlier in the day. They were unusual in that they had suction cups at
the bottom. He had guessed at the time they might be fun to stick on the dash
of the truck the next time they went morel hunting. Without thinking, he stuck
them in his pocket that morning for safekeeping. Hunting morels was a favorite outdoor
event that the entire family looked forward to every year. Morels are a type of
mushroom that only come up in certain soils at a specific time of the year.
Because of their precarious growing season and climate, they are difficult to
find. But because of their delicious flavor, when they are discovered, you feel
like you are receiving manna from heaven. So, as the course of the evening’s
meal ensued; somehow, the topic of morel hunting came up. When someone was
describing their prowess at finding the elusive mushroom, Jacob remembered the
rubber replicas in his pocket. Quietly, and without garnering attention, he
bent his head down and fastened the suction cups to the lens of his glasses.
Then when the moment was right, he looked up and said, as the rubber morels
goggled before his spectacles, “I would say, that I would be the best Morel
hunter around simply because of my superior morel vision.” The entire table, and
the rest of the restaurant who couldn’t help to overhear broke out into laughter.
The establishment had in a way, become their surrogate kitchen that evening,
and everyone shared in the raucous laughter. That memory, along with the
fateful journey of his Uncle Markus reverberated in his soul once more; afresh
and new, like the recovery of an ancient treasure that blesses the very spirit
within.
Not long afterward, his Uncle Markus was
told by doctors that they had found blockages in his heart, but there was no
dire concern because they had a new way of relieving the life-threatening condition
through a new procedure using stints. The family was very much relieved, yet
apprehensive when it came time for the surgery. The operation went well, and Markus
was to stay overnight for observation, just as the doctor had told Jacob.
However, Markus’s surgery was forty years prior, the new miracle cure had only
just begun being used. Markus had been warned not to move around, but as was
the case, he got up simply to use the restroom during the night, harmless as
that may sound. The doctors would later surmise that plaque had broken loose in
the artery where the stint was inserted, which found its way to Markus’s brain.
Uncle Markus died long before his time. Yet, it was God’s time, not our own.
Jacob’s mind panged once more for his Uncle
and knew that God had used the stint to call him home. It didn’t make the
memory any less painful, nor did it comfort him knowing that medical advances in
the past forty years had made the procedure much less treacherous. In the back
of his mind, he couldn’t eliminate the thought of possibly facing the same fate.
Feelings of the recent trials and
struggles haunted him in the hours leading up to the operation. “Had he done
all that he needed to prepare for leaving this life,” he thought to himself?
“Had he done all that he could do to help his family financially once he was
gone?” Then the formidable realization of their salvation bore upon him, “Had
he done all that he could do to prepare them for life eternal?” He felt in
his soul that his work was not over, but if God was calling him home, he was
ready either way.
“The Lord would provide,” he told
himself, again and again.
Yet, he was never alone.
Friends and family had encouraged Jacob
on his journey, and many had prayed for him. As the Bible tells us, “Wherefore
seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us
lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us
run with patience the race that is set before us.” All his life, there were
those praying for him even when they had lost contact with him physically;
those faithful prayer warriors that lift us up even when we are the least
worthy.
Jacob never forgot this, that many had
lifted him up in prayer, as the day for the surgery came. As the lights,
needles, and monitors flickered and beeped through the operating room, his mind
rested peacefully as he felt the hand of God warm him in that cold, foreign
place; prayers were being answered. Before he knew it, the medical staff and
the lead doctor were wrapping up.
“You’re all done,” the Cardiologist
proclaimed proudly.
“Your heart had a major blockage,” he
relayed without remorse, as he held his personal device over Jacob’s head.
“But, as you can see,” he said through
his operating mask, “Your heart has healed itself by making its own bypass. Better
than I could have done,” he said, pointing his purple glove finger toward the
miniature screen.
“It’s just beautiful,” the doctor
continued, admiring the tiny image before Jacob, as he turned to look at it
himself one more time. “You won’t need any stints either, your heart is
perfectly clear other than that one blockage which has miraculously healed
itself.”
Jacob couldn’t believe what he was
hearing. Through the fog of medication necessary for the operation, he
struggled to understand all that the doctor had just said.
“Miracle,” was all that he could
think, “God had performed a miracle. I should be dead,” he whispered to
himself.
Prayers had once more been answered;
like a thunderbolt, their presence was felt. Warm tears filled Jacob’s eyes as
the gurney was wheeled out of the operating room and back to recovery.
As the cloud of the sedative began to wear
off, Jacob continued to feel buoyed by the very nature of the miracle that had transpired;
unaware, unexpectedly, God had cured him of the life-threatening blockage. Not
only that, he had cleared every other debilitating possible blockage so that
his heart was like new. “With time, your heart will grow stronger,” the nurse
conveyed, as she heard Jacob speak of the revelation in the recovery room.
A gleam of joy shone into his now
healing heart.
The next couple of days were spent
resting and allowing the medication from the surgery to wear off. But once Jacob
was able to get outside, he took a short walk along the ridge where he lived.
In the distant, the blue peaks stood majestically; proud and stoic. Never so
bright were the flowers. Never so blue was the heavenly blue azure sky above.
The trees sounded as if they were singing the praises of the noonday sun. The
joyous memory of that evening in the St. Joe Diner sparkled once more in his
mind. The flicker of life revived, of happiness and laughter. The old spirit of
rejoicing with gladness the moments in life afforded us, no matter the setting,
no matter the circumstance had been rekindled. The old spirit had reunited with
the new Spirit; together, their energy was more than enough to uplift the weary
soul; they gave new life to the body within.
Jacob’s life had been a culmination of
learning and finding the way through failure and loss. The sins of his life had
kept him shackled to the world of the flesh, and because of it, had prevented
him from being to that which he was called. Subtlety, and without any
instantaneous change, Jacob found himself seeking direction from something beyond
the temporal world around him. Once he did, God began to work through him in inexplicable
ways. Some say that God works in mysterious ways, but when one walks through
the valley of the shadow of death and someday finds themselves on the mountain
top of that remorseful valley below, it is then that they can finally
appreciate what it is to receive Christ into their lives.
Yes, my brothers and sisters, God is
waiting for you to answer your call. He is ready for you to take him into your
life. Not only will your spirit be renewed, but your body will be blessed
beyond measure.
Look to the horizon and climb the
nearest mountain, leaving that valley below. When you reach the summit, allow
all that you experience to fill your cup to overflowing. Allow yourself to be
changed. Sup from the spring of God’s mercy while you can for the peaks of our
lives never last forever. May He annointest thy head with oil. Share the testimonies
and miracles in your life, for you may be the inspiration that someone needed
to hear.
Someday, you will descend into another valley,
and when you do, take with you the precious gift of God’s grace. By our scars,
we can be healed, and by Christ’s scars we can be reborn. Be the light for all,
no matter where you are; whether if you are on the highest mountain top, or in the
deepest, darkest abyss, let your light shine for all to see.
As Paul said, “For to me to live is
Christ.”
So, my friend, live as if living is
Christ, and goodness and mercy will follow you all the days of your life.
We awoke this morning to a
blissful 64 degrees here in the foothills of the Blueridge Mountains. It was
indeed a long-awaited respite from the summer’s toils. Although the sky was
overcast, the soothing temperatures allowed for a more leisurely feel to the
walk to church. Along the way, the bountiful colors of the wildflowers began to
catch my attention. “Had they been there all summer and I just missed them
amid the turmoil of heat and fatigue,” I pondered as my walking stick continued
to make the rhythmic knock upon the trail? At first the red of the Cardinal
flower caught my eye, but the farther I walked and became aware, the more
colors that began to reveal themselves until the full spectrum of the rainbow
was pulsating within view; the Vincas, Violas, Orchids, and Lilies of all shapes,
sizes, and varieties. Pausing to catch my mental breath, my mind began to drift
back to another hike in a far distant land. The place where the 23rd
Psalm seemed to come alive; the Germanesca Valley in Italy.
My heart began to race as my
thoughts returned to the life-changing scenery we had experienced on our Alpine
journey.
Like a wounded warrior returning
from battle, my body fought to keep the path of descent. In our unencumbered ascent
up the mountain, we had seen with beholding eyes unspeakable beauty, flowers of
every color of the visible spectrum. We had just scaled up the Germanesca
Valley in the Cottien Alps to a point not far from the summit of Col-du-Pis.
The altitude was challenging alone, reaching slightly above 9,000 feet in elevation.
The thin air caused us to breathe while we walked as if we were running at full
speed. Each new turn in the trail unfolded
another revelation of God’s creation, one that we had heretofore never
witnessed. But in our haste and unimagined divine adventure, we had not
accounted for the human element which so often detains us, shackling us to man’s
law; time. From unimaginable heights we now scurried, our bodies weakened by
the lack of oxygen battled to keep pace with the spirit within. In our haste,
we pressed the pace around another massive boulder only to find a spectacle
beyond comprehension. Looking back, had we not been suffering from the
consequences of poor planning, or rather, spontaneously inspired destinations,
we might have taken the moment we were about to encounter more slowly, more
diligently. We are often reminded in those fleeting few seconds before death
that events you thought could never be captured return in one glorious review.
What was thought lost returns with a voracious message of what was most
important.
How many times had the disciples
asked themselves the same thing? Had they only taken more time to appreciate
the precious little time they were allotted to spend with the Son of Man, Jesus
Christ, how much more would they have understood? Jesus had tried to make them
realize again and again.
“Jesus replied, “You do not
realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand…. I am telling you
now before it happens, so that when it does happen you will believe that I am
who I am.” – John 13:7,19.
How many more questions they could
have asked? How much more faith they might have found had they only known?
“Why weren’t they warned,” you
ask?
Jesus foretold his death and
resurrection on more than one occasion. “Now
Jesus was going up to Jerusalem. On the way, he took the Twelve aside and said
to them, “We are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be delivered
over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to
death and will hand him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and
crucified. On the third day he will be raised to life!” – Matthew 20:17-19
Yet, they too were so pressed for
time of this world, trying to make it day-to-day in circumstances under which
they had little to no control. Albeit they were in the presence of Jesus, they
too found it difficult, seeing so many miracles and hearing so much, that there
was little time to take it all in and absorb it fully. After a while, their
human bodies began to tire. The weariness of the journey was more than many
could physically take; the emotional and spiritual strain alone of having one’s
mind stretched beyond belief each day would be enough to cause a mental breakdown.
Yet, Christ afforded them through his divine power the ability to
understand, as he opened their minds as only God could do. “Who hath ears to
hear, let him hear.And the disciples came, and said
unto him, Why speakest thou unto them in parables? He answered and said unto
them, Because it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of
heaven, but to them it is not given.”-Matthew 13:9-11
Enthralling scenes that no human
could imagine took the disciples breaths away; again and again. They could
never dream of what was just around the bend.
Just beyond the shadows of the granite edifice from around the curve in the path lay a patch of grasses covered with wildflowers, colors as vivid as the cloudless azure blue sky above. Yet, unlike anything we had yet to discover this day of miraculous discovery on the mountain, there was something unreal; something that pulsated from this patch of living color. As we neared, our shadows ran before us, touching the breathing spectrum of life. Without warning, the colors began to rise in place, as one. Our mere mortal eyes couldn’t understand what we were seeing; yet, we saw something beyond explanation. We inched closer and soon realized the cloud of flowers were hundreds of tiny butterflies, each matching the fauna of their selected petals below. As if their spirit could sense our breathlessness, before we could capture the image for all to see, the cloud of cuspid elegance dispersed into nothingness in a cloudburst of flight. Pausing, my traveling companion and I simply looked at one another in awe of God’s unending magnificence.
Numb from our weakened physical condition,
we shook our heads and pressed on. Had we been less hurried, less concerned
about our fear of missing the bus, would we have been able to capture the
magnificent event? Would we have found the moment more impressive at that
instant than we had otherwise seemed to feel considering our weariness and exhausted
conditions? Each of us had witnessed something that would forever be part of
something special, something that would allow us to forever change our perspective
of life.
It would take many months for the
scene to return to our minds in as an epiphany of revelation.
How do you describe the
indescribable to someone?
How do you share a vision or
testimony to someone that hasn’t shared the same path as yourself or has walked
in a field of wildflowers?
More than likely, your answer is
that it is nearly impossible. If the person you are sharing with has never had
a similar experience in life or has never found themselves able to question
their own spirituality, then they probably will not understand how to relate to
what you are describing. Just as Jesus fought to make his disciples aware,
against even the most obvious, in-your-face statements, they continued to be
confused. Up until the very day of his capture and eventual crucifixion, they
had yet to come to the understanding of all that he had said. It was until
after his death and resurrection did they finally begin to fathom the trail of
clues their Master had provided during their earthly time together.
Likewise, we must be aware of
those around us that are either knew in faith are or those who have yet to
accept Christ at all. They will look at you with ears unable to hear, with eyes
unable to see, and with hearts often hardened from years of hearing the very
words you might say to them. It isn’t until they have walked the trail of
wildflowers and seen the cloud of flowers burst open into a prolific spectrum
of colorful butterflies will they finally be able to comprehend your words. In
the end, it isn’t us that can come into their hearts and minds, but Christ who
must be the one. Alone we are only mouthpieces. It isn’t until Christ speaks
through us in spite of us can we reach the lost souls of our world.
Yes, we can never do it alone, nor
are we ever alone.
Open that back door and take a
walk down the nearest trail and search for God in all that you do.
You will never be disappointed,
and most importantly, you may find a miraculous beauty made by our Lord that
will forever change who you are.
Robert Frost so famously wrote in the
final lines of his poem, “The Road Not Taken,” “…Two roads diverged in a
wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the
difference.”
As I stand at another crossroads
of my own, God has prepared an unusual circumstance, in that both roads in my
journey are “the one less traveled,” regardless of which one I choose. Unlike
Frost’s divergence, where one path eventually proves morally significant over
the other, with my choice, each has the potential to share the Word of God in
the duties required. In other words, they both have the ability to become blessings
to others, in that I will be serving the Lord on either journey; and that, yes,
that fact truly makes all the difference.
As a matter of confirmation, I was
afforded an opportunity to interview with a school the first part of this week.
I had just got through sharing my testimony with a friend when the phone rang.
Like Abraham at the altar, Isaac lying bound below his knife blade, the feeling
of his muscles’ s tightening in his shoulders as he was about to drive the blade
into his son; my path seemed perfectly clear, the decision to follow through
with what God had provided was made, there was no turning back. But then, in my
case, the phone rang. In Abraham’s, God sent an Angel of the Lord. The parallel,
as it ran through my mind, literally made me laugh as I answered the call. The
caller was from a school that I had applied for many months ago, so it was a
bit of a surprise when they called Monday morning asking if I could come in
Tuesday for the interview. Knowing that God has prepared one path already, I
was a bit hesitant, but thought that at least I should perform my due
diligence.
“Was this God seeing how committed
I was to finally accepting the position at the Children’s Home, and then
providing me an opportunity to go on to a job that would allow me to more easily
provide for my family?” “Was this like Abraham, where he could see that
I was going to follow through with it, no matter the cost?”
It was with these questions in
mind that I drove to the school the next day for the interview. I felt
wonderful, and it was a beautiful day; clear blue skies, low humidity, and a
feeling inside that God was with me, no matter what. The interview went very
well, and it seemed that I was always one step ahead on the panel’s questions.
They told me before I left that they would have an answer within a couple days.
By the next morning, Wednesday they had made a decision; one that didn’t include
me.
In many ways, the news was a relief.
I thanked God out loud, for it was as if He had chosen for me. He knows us
better than we know ourselves, and that being the case, would understand how
hard it would be for me to decide between the two. Comforted once more that God
is in control, I returned to work on the Retreat; there was always one more
thing to be done.
Thursday came, and once more,
there was another knock on the door.
I opened the email, and there was
another opportunity to interview with another potential employer that I had
applied for many weeks earlier. They had moved my application to the next round
of the selection process, which meant they were giving me 72 hours to perform
the interview and submit it for review. Once again, making sure I performed my
due diligence, I logged into the web site on Friday and began answering the
question. Before beginning, I prayed that if this was God’s way of holding the
best until last, then so be it, but that I was already more than well pleased
with the choice He had provided. The questions were not of the customary type,
but rather, asked things like, “How do you grow and maintain your walk with
Christ?” “What was your personal testimony with regard to accepting Christ, and
how have you continued that walk?” In each case, there was so much I wanted to
share, but the challenge was a one-minute time limit on each response. Needless
to say, it took a lot of effort to pare down all that I wanted to say and get
it to fit into the concise timeframe required.
Thankfully, there was no limit on
the amount of time given to think about each question, and as I peered out the
vista before me, I began to reflect on all that had transpired this past summer
and how it had been one of the most challenging periods of waiting for God to speak
to me in my life. My setting for the interview was at the Lodge, a place in our
community that literally sits on top of a mountain that provides a 360-degree long-range
view of mountains, as far as the eye can see. From my mountain top vantage,
there was the feeling of being literally closer to God. One question after
another, my reflection kept reminding me that I had never been alone, even when
I felt the loneliest. Looking back, those solitary moments were steppingstones
to the answers that would play out. In the waiting, there was the feeling that
God was working on something big; something that would make it clear there was
much to do in order to make it possible. Because, with God, nothing is
impossible.
Finally, after the last question, I
hit the submit button.
It was done.
Have you ever completed something
and wondered how well it went? Did you get the sudden feeling that there many
things you hadn’t said that you could have? These questions and others began to
form in my mind, but as they did, there was the comforting hand of God upon me,
consoling me, assuring me that this was all that was needed. There was nothing
left to be done.
Lowering my head in prayer, I
began to thank God for the opportunity, regardless if I got the position or not.
In my heart, it felt as if God was allowing me to see that He was covering all
the bases. Should I finally, and ultimately land at the Children’s Home, I will
have the comforting sense of satisfaction knowing that all the other doors of
possible paths had been covered and provided. Each one, even though they chose
another candidate, allowed me to see that He was listening and that he had put
me where he needed me the most. In the end, although I initially felt like Abraham
at the altar, I realized that God was just letting me know that there should be
no other questions about his desire for me to be where he wants me to serve.
Talk about a feeling of God’s hand
upon your very heart; there is no greater satisfaction in this world than
knowing you are being cared for by the Almighty God.
In every step of this long summer’s
journey, as my ability to provide for my family has diminished; when there was
no more job, when we lost our medical insurance when health issues began to
arise, God was with us. He was providing
for us in each time of need; albeit finances, medical insurance, health, and strength.
The scripture from 2 Corinthians
4:17-18 keeps coming back to me. It can best summarize the recent course of
events in, “For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for
us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; While we look not at the
things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things
which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.”
“I must decrease, so that he
may increase,” said John the Baptist, and for my walk of faith, it is the
same. “When we are at our weakest, he is strongest,” wrote the Apostle Paul,
and it has never been clearer in my own life.
Where the next few days, weeks, or
months will take me, I cannot say.
But one thing I do know, wherever
He leads, I will follow.
And in that, we can most assuredly say, “Thanks be to God.”
“For our light affliction,
which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory; While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the
things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the
things which are not seen are eternal.”- 2 Cor.4:17-18
The afternoon storms brought
blinding rain, blowing in gales of white sheets of water, tossing the canopy of
the forest like waves upon the ocean. From my vantage point on the porch, the
sounds of drops of water from that storm still find their path to the forest
floor, one leaf after another; a continuous soothing sound of liquid falling in
soft echoes. The remnants of the storm that had preceded this evenings chorus, the
tumult long ago swept away by the currents in the sky, now are only a mere
shadow of its former self. The fearful tempest had given way to the calming
collections of water cascading from the treetops in a never-ending cycle of
life. What once was a frightening scene had given way to one of peace.
Our lives can be much like this
very scene; the incomprehensible tempest that eventually gives way to a calm in
its wake. We try to wrap our minds around how out of control our lives can seem
at one moment, and then within a few hours or days, it is as if nothing ever
happened.
This past couple of weeks, my life
has been very much like today’s thunderstorm; a physically debilitating illness
so severe that there was no leaving the bed for several days for the sake of
the pain. Then afterward, a slow, wayward climb back to normalcy; a calming
effect of what life had once been; the new norm.
Sometimes our afflictions seem
anything but light.
The fever that began a couple Saturdays ago
was unusual in that there were no other signs of infection; no lymph nodes
swollen, no rashes, nothing to indicate a cause. Everyone suggested Rocky
Mountain Spotted fever, or even perhaps Lyme Disease. The doctors searched, one
blood test after another; nothing gave any indications other than the obvious
facts of white blood cell counts falling daily, and blood platelets
disappearing faster than my weary body could produce them. Finally, the Oncologists
provided insight as he stood before me with a medical chart in hand. Before he
began, my thoughts flashed to my friend and brother in Christ, and the battle
he still fights daily. Not long ago, that friend sat in an office much like the
one I was in at the time and heard the heart-wrenching news of finding out he
had Leukemia. He and his wife are always in my prayers, and Leukemia was something
that had definitely been on my mind. So, as I sat there listening, the doctor
was nearly giddy with the news, as he conveyed that my results did not indicate
cancer. We both smiled. The bad news was that the illness was pointing to some
type of insect-borne disease; the results of tests that would identify the
source wouldn’t be available for several more weeks. What friends and family
had suggested had yet to be ruled out. So, finally, with a prescription for an
antibiotic, I went home and began to recover within 24 hours of the first dose.
It had been a mere precaution from the Oncologists but proved to be precisely
what was needed; as the Oncologist would say later, there definitely been some
type of infection.
Tonight, as the calming sounds of
the raindrops comfort my weary body, the thought of the verse in Corinthians
makes more sense. The light afflictions of our daily lives, unlike those that
Christ suffered for our sake, are mere stepping stones to what our Savior has
waiting for us in eternity. Even the extreme fevers, which may only be for a
moment in time, when compared with the extent of our earthly life, are just
another trial through which we persevere. Sometimes we survive the tempest to
reach the evening that follows of complicit temperatures and pleasant sounds of
soothing raindrops softly falling in the forest. When we battle through the
spiritual wars in our life, much like the ferocity of thunderstorms, we are
left wondering if our boat will capsize and all will be lost. It is in these
tempests that we learn to lean on Him.
Day after day, we must remind
ourselves that we are not alone, nor does He want us to go it alone. As Paul
wrote, “When I am weakest, it is then He, my God, is the strongest.” For
myself, the most difficult part is remembering to lean on Him. So often we
allow our human nature to take over, and we strive to “make it happen.”
I hear friends tell me that they sometimes don’t think they can go another day,
that their job is just too demanding, that the workload is more than they can bear.
It is then that I ask, “Have you asked Him for help? Are you leaning on your
Savior, or are you trying to do it all alone?” I know from my own perspective,
I’m guilty of forgetting to ask Him for help and then finding out I’m once
again trying to do it on my own.
The old gospel song, “Learning to
Lean,” is a perfect example of how we must remind ourselves that we are not
alone, and it is our Savior’s desire that we reach out to him and ask for help.
What parent has not had their heart melt when a child reaches up to them with
open and arms and asks, “Can you help me?” God, our Father, is the same; loving
each of us unconditionally, regardless of our faults, our sins, and our past.
We are forgiven. All we have to do is confess our sins and ask Him to come into
our lives. With childlike faith, we must have a heart that is willing to lean
on Him. We battle against powers, principalities, and dark forces that are not
of this world, so why would you think you can do it by yourself?
Leaning trees on the John’s River, near Collettsville, NC. in the Blueridge Mountains.
As a teacher, you spend countless
hours during the course of the school year, foregoing sleep, family, and often
personal time for yourself. It is during the few weeks of the summer that
teachers can catch up and find time for themselves. Unlike what I might have
wanted or envisioned, this summer has been anything but relaxing. I’m not
complaining, for it has been a season of growth; finding my walk with God
becoming closer than ever before. It has been a time of finding a level of
patience that heretofore I didn’t know existed. In the waiting, searching for
the next door to open, I found a sense of peace within that was only possible
because of the grace that God had provided.
Were there moments when the
thought of no medical insurance, no job, and no hint of future employment would
crash into my mind and mentally take my breath away?
Yes, of course.
Did I allow those thoughts to drown me in depression and sorrow, feeling pity
for myself?
No, I didn’t.
Each time those fears surfaced, I
remembered what the Word had taught me, and I would take a deep breath and feel
the hand of God upon me. He builds a hedge of protection before and behind us
in all that we do. The scripture says, “If God is for us, who can be against
us?” When we truly walk with our Savior each and every day, we learn to
think of him being by our side. It is then that I have found that we find we
are never alone. People look at the Retreat and are often impressed by the magnitude
of a simple little building built by me; me a mere whisper of a man, barely
150lbs soaking wet. It is then that I remind them that I haven’t done it alone.
Other than the occasional help from friends and my son, the majority of it was
accomplished by just the two of us; God and me.
Now I know, and often when I say
this, I can see the skeptical look of most people arise, as you might be
thinking at this point. But let me give you just one moment when I learned
early on that He was with me.
The floor of the foundation was
covered with the first layer of plywood, and I had begun to put up the outer
walls. Before starting to build them, I first engineered a system of cables,
and pulleys such that I could use my tractor to help raise the enormous weight
of a wall. At this point, I can most assuredly tell you that God had given me
the insight on how to do this because alone, I would have never figured it out.
But that’s not the testimony I wanted to share; that is yet to come.
Once everything was in place, I
boldly built the first wall. It consisted of ten-foot-tall 2×6’s complete with
a front door and two windows, all consisting of full headers above each. The
headers alone probably weighed 300 lbs. When it was time to lift the wall, I
attempted to wedge a crowbar under the top plate in order to put the chain
around it. There was no budging it. Feeling defeated, I sat down on the far
corner and viewed the monstrosity of workmanship.
“Would it have to be taken apart
and done one piece at a time,” my mind questioned.
Then I remembered the most
important part of all that I was doing: “I hadn’t asked God for help.”
At that moment, I went to Him in
prayer, thanking him for all that we had done up to this point. There had been
so many other times when He gave me strength, wisdom, and encouragement. Like
never before, I needed him now. As my prayer was lifted up, there was that
feeling of energy flowing through my weary limbs, as I had felt so many times
before. I said “Amen,” and stood up, walked over to the wall and jammed the
crowbar underneath the top plate, as I had attempted to do before, but now was
successful. Quickly, I snaked the log chain around the top plate and then
connected its hook around the other part of the chain.
It was ready to lift.
Once more, knowing what had just
transpired, I asked God for his help in this, and that he help me get the wall
standing before the end of the day.
A few minutes later, the twenty-foot long wall was standing at a 45-degree angle. It spanned the entire length of the front of the building. As I had learned in construction many years ago, I had placed braces to keep it up, even though the chain held it, but in my excitement, I had missed that the block and tackle had jammed into the chain at the top. There was no more the tractor and cable system could do. Now it was up to me to inch the wall up vertically using the two braces, each held in place by a single nail. It was at this point that with every breath I prayed. Every inch, the wall began to rise. Because the block and tackle were preventing the wall from going any further up, it had to be disconnected. Now, not only was there nearly a ton of wall looming over my head, but there was nothing to keep it from crashing down on me; nothing but the hand of God. Feverishly I worked, praying, sweating, and putting all that my small frame could humanly muster, all the while, the power of the Holy Spirit flowed through my veins.
Suddenly, before I knew it, she
was standing tall.
I stepped back and looked. There
before me, the entire twenty-foot wall stood perfectly in place, perfectly
erect. The two braces were holding tight. To make sure it was finished, I
walked over and took the level to make sure it was right.
It was perfectly level.
I leaned the level against the
wall and stepped back.
“Amazing,” I breathed, “I can’t
believe I did that,” I thought to myself.
Did you hear it? Did you hear when
I once more allowed the natural man within, that fleshly part of our being that
wants to take all the credit? It’s so easy to forget. But there is always an
answer in the word for our stumbling blocks. James wrote, “Humble yourselves
in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up.”
Yet, for a split second, the
natural man resurfaced and entered the self-gratification he so often seeks. In
my haste, not only had I forgotten that “I” hadn’t done anything, but rather,
God had done it through me. The verse, “I can do all things through Christ
who strengtheneth me,” never rang so true at that moment. In my exuberance,
the thrill of seeing what we had done together, I had forgotten to nail the braces
to the floor to keep the wall from going any farther in the direction I had
been pushing it.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a breeze stirred the top of the trees. My sweat-stained shirt felt the coolness, which was a relief in the autumn heat. The leaves swirled slightly at the foot of the building and then in horror, I watched as the wall eerily, like a slow-motion film, began to tilt the opposite direction. It quickly picked up the speed until it became a crescendo of crashing lumber falling off the front of the building, crashing into the tractor and support structures below.
The once impressive display of
engineering was now a broken pile of wood and nails.
In that brief instant, I realized
what the error of my ways. In my moment of self-elation, I had merely thought
that it was “I” that had done something, rather than giving God the credit. In
the blink of an eye, it was all taken away. The testimony at that moment was no
longer about the success of the project, but rather, now it was about my failure;
yes, my affliction.
How many times has something gone
wrong in your life that you’ve had to start over? How many times has what
seemed a disaster eventually became a blessing? Time and time again, what
seemed to be a failure only allowed another door to open, and with it,
something more precious and valuable arose. It is then the line in the verse, “our
light affliction, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight
of glory,” comes into focus.
It took three days, and two more
men to help me correct the disaster and to redo what God and I had done in just
a few minutes. By reaching out to those other men for help, it allowed them to become
part of the Retreat construction, and in so doing, also gave them the
opportunity to feel God with us. From that point forward, the sharing of the
labor of love began to grow, and many more would eventually come to help when
time allowed.
In the end, what seemed a
momentary affliction worked a greater glory, one that wasn’t visible from the
start, but in the end, was something that would go deeper than the temporal; an
eternal blessing. Once more, I learned to lean a little more on my Savior.
When the storms of this world crash
into your life, hold on tight and pray. Yes, my friend, pray that God is with
you. No matter how dark the night, no matter how painful the fever, there is
always a dawning of a new day, and with it, the opportunity to rise from the
ashes. There is no sin too great that God cannot forgive. Christ died for all
men, even those who knew him not, so that we all, yes, all of us could have the
hope of eternal salvation.
The tiny droplets continue to fall;
one precious leaf after another until their weight gently caresses the forest
floor. The mist begins to cover the lower reaches of the valleys below. From
the mountain, the vastness of God’s creation exceeds our ability to comprehend,
but for a moment, we can inhale the beauty for which we have been created.
Let not the evil of this world encircle
you so tightly that there is no light from which you can reach too for help. The
pain will pass, the storm will give way, and in its wake, a peaceful assurance
will be waiting; your confirmation that God is with you, for now, and evermore.
The old path had been obliterated
by the multitude of floods sweeping through the valley. Over the course of the
late winter and early spring, the rains had fallen heavily upon the mountain.
The water had nowhere to go but down into the valleys below. Massive logs had
been strewn this way and that, like straws spilled on a table, their remains
were all that was left, like bones upon the shoreline of a distant war. Now, there
were only piles of dark, entangled webs of roots and logs. Their bulk lay wherever
the currents had subsided.
John’s River, Collettsville, NC.
One such testament to the
disasters of this past season had now blocked the old trail which was once
where my weekly crossing of the river would lead. It had been over a year since
my last venture. Like a blanket of comfort, vines and forest growth had already
claimed their new patron as their own. To once more scale the opposite shore
would require finding a new way, a new path; blazing a trail once more through
the wilderness. It was as if God was speaking to me this past week when all the
events had fallen into place such that there was finally time to seek out this
new pathway. Much like many of our lives at this moment, you too might be
waiting on that next door to open. You might feel like those prayers you have
lifted over and over again are not reaching through your own ceiling. In this
time of waiting, there is learning. In this season of pause, we must seek what
we have yet to find in our faith.
One might ask, “Is it even worth
the effort to reclaim that old path?” or if your congregation has lived through
a natural disaster you might ask, “Is it worth the money to rebuild the church
after the storm?” To those fallen on even the direst of life’s circumstances,
the question may arise, “How can I even go on living?”
God tells us through his prophet Isaiah,
when he states, “Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth;
shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in
the desert.”
We often cannot see beyond the
next hill or bank of the river. God has put before us the opportunity to blaze
new pathways, leaving the old behind. When we find our way is blocked by
circumstances beyond our control, or have a tragedy strike, we must first seek
Him. When we find God, we must then listen, for when we receive him, his
indwelling will become our guidepost. When we learn to listen for that still
small voice, we shouldn’t be surprised to find guidance and direction, and
often in the most unlikely of places.
The afternoon thunderstorms had
been heavy, so it was no surprise to find the river was up. The sandbar, covered
with all manner of stone, was now under water; it being my gauge as to when it
is safe to cross or not. Having already decided that this would be the day to
find out if there was a way possible, I went ahead with the plan. A wiser man
might have simply passed for another day; not I. The first few footsteps into
the murky turbulence proved my intuition was correct, the current was tearing
away at my footing. Scarcely had not one step been taken before the next was
nearly washed out from underneath. The crossing was not going to be easy. Not
to mention, the distant shore, now covered with a network of vines and briars,
would be even more daunting. I had just begun, and it seemed as if all was
lost. In the back of my mind, the question arose as to, “Why, why are you
doing this?”
Many times, when we are in the midst
of our trial, even though we may be within the darkness of the valley of the
shadow of death, we are not alone; God is with us. As we take that next step,
there are those in our lives watching, like the boats surrounding the ship upon
which Jesus had fallen asleep. Each small vessel carried passengers who also
wondered if this may be their doom, waiting for a sign from the boat upon which
Christ had found passage. To their amazement, from a distance, they watched as Jesus
rebuked his disciple’s unbelief, and then calmed the raging seas. Those too,
who are with us each day, watching our demeanor and response to the hardships through
which we travail, are likewise inspired by the sometimes seemingly insignificant
details of decisions we make; regardless, if it is something we find as trivial
or something as horrific as the loss of a family member through a tragedy, each
event elicits a similar revelation.
So, as I fought the raging
currents to reach the other shore, it was with admirable satisfaction that when
I embarked upon scaling the steep embankment, there was already an opening made
by the hand of God. The force of the flood had caused not only trees to be
washed away, but also the shape of the briars and vines had been swept into uniform
patterns, causing them to lay one upon the other, like matting upon the earth. I
easily found footing and barely had to cut back but just a few thorny green
briars, here and there, until the paved trail of the Collettsville Park was in
sight. All of my apprehension and fear had already been taken care of by the Master’s
hand. All that was asked of me was to try, to take that first step into the
raging torrent and trust in Him.
“When thou passest through the
waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow
thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither
shall the flame kindle upon thee.”-Isaiah 43:2
When we find ourselves in these
times of trial and waiting, we must forge new forays into God’s Word, turning
pages we might have never sought before. We are often taken aback at how direct
the word may speak to us. Who hasn’t sought an answer from God, and in so
doing, opened the Bible at random and found the very text to which your eye had
cast upon answering you? But even in our doubt and struggle with waiting, we
must keep every present in our mind that He will not leave us in our struggle. The
wrath of destruction through which we survive, be it spiritual or physical, is not
unnoticed by our Heavenly Father. When we pass through the storm, we will be
blessed with the most loving promise, “Who redeemeth thy life from
destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies;”
In the silence, God is working on
answering your prayers.
Be ever vigilant and patient. It
takes time, at least from our humanly perspective, for rivers to emerge from
deserts. From the driest and most arid of the human soul can the fruit of the
Holy Spirit spring forth, bubbling up unto the presence for all to see; a
testimony of having battled through hell and survived by the Grace of God to
tell the story.
Step into that torrent, blaze that
trail once more and never give up. Christ didn’t die for your sins for you to
throw away your life.
You can make it. You have His
promise.
Thanks be to God.
“Who redeemeth thy life from
destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies;”-Psalm
103:4
“When thou passest through the
waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow
thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither
shall the flame kindle upon thee.”-Isaiah 43:2
“Behold, I will do a new thing;
now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the
wilderness, and rivers in the desert.”-Isaiah 43:19
Day after day, as one rock is painstakingly placed upon the next, the
form of an ancient fireplace begins to take shape. The work keeps my mind off the
fact that nobody calls me back from the multitudes of job applications I have submitted
to various agencies. Prayers are lifted unceasingly. While working with mud and
stone, there is time for the mind to wander and reflect; to commune with God. I
am never alone, even when it may seem that I am.
The work is slow and arduous. There are times it seems as if it will
never be completed, so little seems to be accomplished. It was upon these last
few words that the dust of intellect and God’s voice settled.
How compelling to see a structure rise up from the ground, knowing that
the only access to the site where a building now stands was a trail through the
woods. God’s hand was upon me every step. When block and stone began to be set,
what seemed to be an incredulous speed of advancement seemingly came to a halt.
Now, as the daily heat begins to climb as our calendar advances toward July,
the afternoon temperatures began to soar, causing the pace to slow further.
It was on one of these recent sweltering days that the words began to
form.
Standing back and looking upon the work of thy hands, God impressed
upon me how permanent these stones are versus the rest of the building. The
stones are like our faith and the Word of God. We are as dust, here today and
gone tomorrow, but the Word of the Lord endureth forever. Who hasn’t driven
down some lonesome backroad and happened upon an abandoned old farmhouse. The
only evidence being the singular rock chimney built from indigenous stones
found nearby. The remainder of the structure, if still there at all, had long
ago succumbed to the rigors of rot and decay. Sometimes, the entire chimney is
still completely intact; the heart of the old homeplace where often times the
food would be cooked and would also be the only source of warmth in the coldest
of winter days.
Like that old chimney, the Word of God continues long after the fragile
flesh of this world have gone. It should also be the center of our lives. When
we are gone, the remembrance of who we were will vanish. All that will often
remain of our earthly life is sometimes the work of our hands. “For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth
that we are dust. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field,
so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place
thereof shall know it no more.”-Psalm
103:14-16
However, that is not the point, leaving a legacy of ourselves. We might
think that what we leave to this world should be like the chimney, a visual
reminder, but that would be misguided. Don’t get me wrong, it is more than
pleasing for our children, and their children to look upon the work of their
ancestors and marvel at something that their ancient hands had created that
remains until their day. Rather, what we should prefer is that our legacy
points to Jesus and a Christ-centered life.
Those stones of the fireplace, each one carefully placed after being
hand chosen, can be thought of as the individual moments in life where what we
say or did something either in the Word or in a Christ-like manner, made a
lasting impact on someone’s life, in a positive way. No stone is the same;
likewise, no two events are ever exactly alike. It takes a multitude of rocks
to build the entirety of the fireplace; similarly, life is a never-ending stream
of events. In our own minds, they are interrelated, no matter the circumstance.
They become forever who we are. Those who we reach in our life’s journey become
part of who we are as much as the individual stone becomes part of the
fireplace.
The mortar, like God’s word, carefully prepared bonds those moments
together, uniting all into a solid, rock-hard formation. If the mortar is too
wet, it runs and cannot uphold the next stone; its bond is weak. So too is the
Word of God if it is watered down. Too often in today’s world, the church seeks
to make God’s word “fit” the audience; make it relevant. That’s okay if it is
kept in line with scripture, but the problem arises when it is weakened and
altered to “blend” into what is considered acceptable by the world, to the natural
man’s desires. When we hear of churches becoming more of an entertainment venue
than a soul-saving institution, then we know the mortar has started to run.
From the opposite side of the spectrum, if our mortar is too dry, the
stones cannot bond for lack of moisture. When the Word of God is delivered in
such a dry, ritualistic manner, it becomes foreign to the listener. The
concepts and teachings of Christ must be delivered in such a manner that they
may be easily understood but without compromising their meaning. If those receiving
the message are not right with God, then they too will be unable to understand;
simply going to the show does not allow for reception of the word. “For the heart of this people is waxed gross,
and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes have they closed; lest they
should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their
heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.”-Acts 28:27 When the format of the program
seeks to follow outdated legalistic procedures that are not biblical, let alone
have a purpose, they destroy what the house of God seeks to employ; the
presence of the Holy Spirit; the water of life and the moisture in the mortar.
In the end, if the mason has done their job well, the structure they
have created will stand the test of time. If a life has been well lived, there
should be no regrets. As a life well lived, the Apostle Paul said it best when
he said, “I have fought a good
fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown
of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that
day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.”
Each stone, each moment in time will have created a living legacy of a
Christ-centered life to which many will attest for years to come. If they are equally
blessed, there may be a certain fireplace around which they may gather and
think of the one who built it, not alone, but in the presence of God.
“And whether we be afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effectual in the enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation.”-2 Cor. 1:6
The morning brought about overcast skies; something that hadn’t been part of yesterday’s plan. Contemplations of getting up and finding new subjects to capture to use for future inspirational messages were quickly shrouded over by the gray skies above. From my vantage point, sitting on the picnic table at the Collettsville General store, I sat in humble submission to all that God was trying to reveal to my simple mind. Even knowing what I know about my walk in the Lord, it was evident, His plans were not my own, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.”-Isa. 55:8
Blueridge Mountains, Collettsville, NC.
The clouds loomed
so closely that one might have perceived it to be dusk; the birds flitting to
and fro cared little. Cars going by, crossing the bridge, had their headlights
on. For late June, it was a pleasantly cool morning. The John’s River flowing
past echoed a constant gentle whisper. Its voice was the blank canvas for all
other voices, bemoaning a solitude to any that might listen; a respite from the
worldly nature of mankind. If only one could sit each waking hour by such a place,
how much more complete would their earthly life be? If the curse had not been
placed upon the world, how much more awe-inspiring would this appear?
While contemplating all that was before me, the thought of
how much more this might mean to one that had known struggles, darkness, and
sorrow came to mind. Many of my friends, colleagues, and even myself included
are facing all manner of persecution and trials. To this end, my thoughts began
to reflect upon how much I wish each of them were here with me to see what I
can see. But even in our afflictions, we must keep mindful of how our Savior is
using this to mold us, make us stronger in our faith. As the Apostle Paul
wrote, “And whether we be afflicted, it is for your consolation and
salvation, which is effectual in the enduring of the same sufferings which we
also suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation and
salvation.”
Like a soldier having survived the atrocities of war,
perhaps even death by his own hands, to then return into the normal society; he
cannot help but be changed, forever altered in his perception of the fine line
between civility and cruelty. For a moment he can be in the real world, and a
split second later, he’s back in the hell from whence his world was forever
altered; blood, gore, and mayhem the likes many of us may never know, nor shall
we want too. Likewise, a person can return from the depths of struggle and
despair so great, that once they do, they too are forever changed, never to
look again upon a normal life without understanding how many divine
circumstances have attributed to that fragile thread of what is deemed
normalcy. Each one of us is so close to the edge of the abyss of having
nothing; ever so close to losing it all, yet we doubtfully are aware. Those who
comprehend this perilous precipice have the perception of both edges of the
double sword. They are keenly aware and feel the sense of urgency unbeknownst
to those around them. This difference makes them often seem either distant –
when they choose to remain silent for fear of distancing those with whom they
wished to be with – or that they appear overzealous in their beliefs to the
point they unintentionally ostracize those they love. In essence, they push
away those very people who they seek to reach.
When we accept Christ into our lives, when we turn away from
the old ways and take on the new, we are also forever changed. “Therefore if
any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold,
all things are become new.”-2 Cor. 5:17 All of those things in the past are
forgotten; those old ways of sin, those old habits of which kept us in bondage
are gone. We are set free. At that moment, in that embrace of total immersion
into following Christ, we too can become separated from those around us who
either never realized our change, or who have yet to come to know Him as we
have come to know Him. Either way, we become a different person, one in which
we have died to our former selves, and being such, we no longer rely on the old
ways.
In that moment, when we are saved, we become a new being.
When we do, we face the same circumstances as those who have either lived
through traumatic life events or circumstances. We must be mindful of our
presence among those non-believers or even those who think they are Christian
but are not.
It is a precarious path we walk when we are changed.
Not only that, but our perception of this fallen world
changes as well. The world around us takes on a new light. Things once unseen
for the sake of chasing after the natural things of this world are now visible.
Our senses are like that of a babe, freshly receiving inputs from old receptors
but are now seen through new eyes. Gone are those filters of addiction and
worldly influences. We are cleansed by His blood, washed white as snow.
“Wherefore, he saith, Awake thou that sleepest, and arise
from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.”-Eph.5:14 When we awaken
from that death, we open the door as if to a freshly fallen snowscape; pristine
as it had been from the beginning. In our sin, we were too lost to see what was
before us all along.
Lastly, when we become one with our Father, we no longer
have to question our ability to speak with Him. We know that he listens to all
that we lift up in prayer. Even in our
weakness, God will intercede for us in prayer, “Likewise the Spirit also
helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought:
but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be
uttered. And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the
Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of
God. And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God,
to them who are the called according to his purpose.”-Rom.8:26-28
We understand that even on the
darkest of days, those in which thunder clouds are looming on the horizon,
there is still even reason to rejoice. Even when those countless prayers we
have lifted up go unanswered, we still know that He is listening. “I had
fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of
the living. Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine
heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.”-Ps. 27:13-14
In the waiting, there is learning…and
always hope.
When we feel downtrodden in that
waiting, take heed and remember, He sends us his helper, the Comforter, “But
when the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you from the Father, even the
Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of me.”-Jn
15:26
Yes, even on those days when you expected
sunshine and God sends showers, rejoice in all that is given. We only have one
earthly life to live. Let us not waste this time in despair, but rather, share
the gift of salvation to all those who will hear. Be mindful of your audience
and be not anxious. Some are meant to plant while others will reap; often will
we see both. The fields are ripe for harvest. Now is the time.
