Tag Archives: Isaiah

by | November 12, 2020 · 8:37 pm

To Catch a Shooting Star

by Timothy W. Tron, Nov. 2020

C.S. Lewis wrote, “A blind man has few friends; a blind man who has recently received his sight as, in a sense, none. He belongs neither to the world of the blind nor to that of the seeing, and no one can share his experience. After that night’s conversations, Robin never mentioned to anyone his problem about light. He knew that he would only be suspected of madness. When Mary took him out the next day for his first walk he replied to everything she said, “It’s lovely – all lovely. Just let me drink it in,” and she was satisfied. She interpreted his quick glances as glances of delight. In reality, of course, he was searching, searching with a hunger that had already something of desperation in it. Even had he dared, he knew it would be useless to ask her of any of the objects he saw, “Is that light?” He could see for himself that she would only answer, “No. That’s green” (or “blue”, or “yellow”, or “a field”, or “a tree”, or “a car”). Nothing could be done until he had learned to go for walks by himself.”[1]

Appalachian State University, November, 2020 – photo by Timothy W. Tron

Walking aimlessly about, yesterday found me wanting to breathe spiritually, to take a break from the self-imposed incarceration – chiseling away at the stone within the rock quarry of intellect. In that temporary reprieve, a young man of interest crossed my path. He is a true savant, and at the same time, he’s a broken being, by the world’s standards. For sake of privacy, I will call him Ephraim.

Ephraim is only a high-school-aged student but is attending ASU. His disability, if you can call it that, is Autism. While he is on the high-functioning end of the spectrum, it’s effect upon his countenance is obvious. In his daily walk, he is as one that has just received his sight – he has no former friends and has yet to make new friends in this new world in which he has been thrust. It doesn’t help that he walks about often talking to himself and exhibiting the quirks of his gift to the extent others stand off to the side and make comments to one another, reprising the scene before them, thankful they’re not in his shoes. Yet, his burden, as some would suggest, is his blessing. Ephraim flourishes in the world of numbers, and analytical paradigms. In this environment, he is in his element. He has a drive, a hunger unmatched by his rivals. The enthusiasm which he exudes is like that of a burning, shining comet – flaming across the heavens. We observers of this glorious creation are reminded of the double-edged sword for which God often uses us in his life – one is the obvious blessing, the other is the hidden meaning.

For, as a new believer, Ephraim goes forth with much eagerness to seek that which is pure. To him, all the curriculum through which he is presented each day are as flashes of light. To his peers, they are an unending continuum of procedures, methods, and programs. If one were to tell Ephraim otherwise, they would only hear him evoke how marvelous their purpose and what other variations they produce in his spinning world of intelligence. His mind, like that flashing comet in the sky, races from one idea to the next. All we can do is try to grasp the tail of the phenomena and for a moment, feel the magnificence of God’s glory, even upon one so challenged in this world.

Ephraim was looking for the lost and found. Yea, how relevant was this statement at that moment, for as we walked, one had to ask, “Is he a believer, or is he seeking – is he lost or is he found?” Not knowing the answer to Ephraim’s question, I offered to join him in searching for the physical “Lost and Found.”

“It’s near the coffee shop, someone told me,” he said as we began to walk with purpose toward his assumed destination.

“Oh, ok. I’ve never seen it myself, so I guess we’re going to learn together.”

Therein the statement of profoundness overwhelms me as the words slip through my fingers onto the keyboard and onto the screen before me. Being content to, “not think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but to think soberly according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith,”[2] should be in our forethoughts each second of every waking moment of our daily lives.

As we walked and talked, Ephraim mentioned a paraphrased quote from C.S. Lewis that had impacted him recently. To one seeking for other believers, there are certain keywords that offer clues as to the mind of those around us. The words, “C.S. Lewis,” instantly gave me hope that Ephraim was either a believer or was seeking answers. As God would have it, earlier that morning I had read the passage presented earlier in this piece. As my mind began to grasp that meaning and its relevance for the moment, a sudden dawning washed over me; Ephraim was possibly as one with the blind man – either from the natural perspective or as the spiritual, each imploring the beauty in the endless opportunities with which to rejoice in the creation around us, which so many of us take for granted each day, to that which we have consoled our minds to accept as the accepted description rather than the unspoken name for which only God knows the answer. To people like Ephraim, the instantaneous revelation of light, that inspirational spark of the moment, excite them and encourage them without need for an end. They are lifted up so that they are unable to understand the discouraged amazement of those in their presence.

As Ephraim listened, which was somewhat unaccustomed to his demeanor, I began to expand upon the Lewis passage. It is important to note that his professors find him challenging as a student since because of his gift, he cannot curb his joy and speaks incessantly. As one may imagine, this also puts him at odds with his fellow classmates. However, at that time, my thought was as only God would have it, toward another meaning of the passage that impressed upon me – the obvious allusion to light and color, and how this can speak to us through a faith lens. As Ephraim listened while we walked back to my office, my presentation included the science of light and how it relates to that of the Computer Science realm of study; an attempt of mine to keep things relevant to Ephraim without scaring him off. Mind you, at the moment, and still, do not know the true nature of his mind. So, with caution, my seed planting ensued. It was in my office, as we shared drink and crackers, the words of John 1 slipped from my lips – “Because thy lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise thee.”[3] Ephraim accepted the word without flinching, which was an encouragement, and we continued onward as he responded with his own account of the resultant destination, that of programming in a linear format, moving the memory pointer as needed, without using registers or stacks. In other words, he was framing God’s words with a memory location of his own, so that through a serial aspect, he would recall that someday and move his pointer to its location and recall it as needed. Looking back at the moment, it was almost surreal watching God work through Ephraim’s beautiful mind, allowing this child to understand like no other.

In all, the verse, “And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God,”[4] resonated once more. While we cannot anymore control the future, we must be prepared to change and adapt to be ready to give a witness to them around us. The youth of today are not of the same as our own generation. We must understand their perceived meanings of God’s word are as varied as our own, and in this manner, we should not be dismayed or distracted. Isaiah 29:14 says it like this, “Therefore, behold, I will proceed to do a marvellous work among this people, even a marvellous work and a wonder: for the wisdom of their wise men shall perish, and the understanding of their prudent men shall be hid.”[5] As our generation passes from this world into that of eternal life, we must find those whom we may pass on the word, for as the psalmist wrote, “the truth endureth to all generations.” In that manner, our own words, our individual understanding may be at odds with them that come afterward. We must find a way to speak to them so that they can relate without putting them off at the same time. Likewise, we must be prepared to hear interpretations that might not be from a perspective of our own. Yet, as we listen, we should also be prepared to direct as God would have us. In another way of speaking, we should ready our minds to hear their perspective of what we know, and through that, guide them to the truth, lest they become lost in the weeds.

Once in a great while, we happen upon something in this world so remarkable, so breathtaking, that we are literally dumbfounded. Sometimes that beauty is a cascading waterfall, roaring a thousand voices as if it were a host of heavenly beings. Other times, the glory emanates from the face of a newborn child, whose innocence and purity remind us of one who knew no sin but died for ours. And then there are times, when we meet that individual that, not by any fault of their own, exhibits an unnatural ability with which only God could ordain. In all, it should remind us that we are aliens herein – only passing through.

Those flashes of light, those shooting stars, those brilliant rays of hope are here but for an instant and then they are gone.

With them, those child prodigies, take our breath away, and in that instantaneous vacuum, we can feel the presence of God. It is in these fleeting opportunities, like the passing of two ships in the night, we must be prepared to give an answer to them that ask, a witness to them that seek, and a light unto the world. “For he that doeth truth, cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made manifest which are wrought in God.”[6]

Thanks be to God.

[1] The Dark Tower: And Other Stories. Copyright © 1977 by C. S. Lewis Pte. Ltd. All rights reserved. Used with permission of HarperCollins Publishers.

[2] Romans 12:3 KJV

[3] Psalm 63:3

[4] Romans 12:2 KJV

[5] Isaiah 29:14 KJVß

[6] John 3:21 KJV

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by | February 6, 2020 · 8:16 pm

A Love Like no Other – to Barney and Otis

Their shadows raced across the ground, fleeting patches of darkness. Like spirits nearly visible, “…the substance of things hoped for, evidence of things unseen.” Their existence being enough to block the light, but not enough to be seen. Above, in the brilliant Carolina blue sky, their sharp cries pierced the morning air. Slowly, the pair of Red Tail Hawks made their way up the river, twisting and turning in figure-eight patterns; seeking, searching, hunting for their next meal. So many times, the river has been a source of my inspiration, a bridge for which God sends to me the words with which I share.

The morning chill had given way to a welcoming warmth, despite the frigid air. It was just a couple days into February, yet it felt more like the beginning of spring. My weekly walk to church had culminated in the parking lot as Ms. Dorothy had picked me up just yards away and carried me honorably the remainder of the way. Each time she stops to beckon me into her vehicle, we make a quick rearrangement of her week’s collections in the passenger seat before I jump in, backpack, walking stick, and all. Encouraged from our encounter, like the first few sips of a morning coffee, we eagerly chatted about the reorganization and plethora of oddities she had collected in her life that week.

“Those boots I’ll probably use for firewood after I take out the laces,” she said with a wink and a grin.

I laughed, “Firewood?”

“Yeah, look at em, they’re not much good for anything else. Somebody dropped them off, and ain’t nobody gonna want a pair of boots that look like that.”

Looking at the well-worn boots, I had to muse about Dorothy and her take on life. That would have to wait for another story, another time.

In the back of my mind, I too had many items to share, but unlike hers, mine had no tangible evidence. Memories are said to be like smoke in the wind, they are seen but for a moment and then are gone. Just the week before, as I once more sat on the picnic table by the General Store, I had written in my journal about the two town dogs, Barney and Otis. Each had made an impression upon me, although they never graced my presence for more than just a few minutes each time we met. It was in my reflection of how each had their own character. Barney, with his unrivaled enthusiasm, would follow me to the picnic table and jump up on it, so eager he was for affection. Otis, meanwhile, would patiently sit upon the ground and lean against my leg where I sat. He would gladly take the petting that would follow in time.

It was during my thoughts the previous week that I realized it had been many months since the last time we had shared our time under the broad elm by the river. Both Barney and Otis had been up for many hours as was evidence of their wet, muddy coats. It was something out of the ordinary, in a way, since they usually were clean and reserved. Each had been in the river and looked to be quite animated that particular morning from my recollection. After our brief time of greeting, they soon ran across the bridge and down on the other bank to where they continued their hunt. Evidently, they had found a den of groundhogs and were bent on capturing the remainder of the brood. I watched as the two friends worked together, Barney sniffing them out and then chasing them toward Otis who would patiently wait at the far end of the rock pile where their prey kept quarters. It was a fascinating adventure to observe. Had I known it was to be my last, I might have filmed it rather than merely observing it.

Not long after that chilly morning together, Barney was struck and killed on the road somewhere near the bend in the road above his house. We all knew it was just a matter of time. Barney had grown so old and careless that he would sometimes lay in the middle of the parking lot at the store while cars and trucks would haphazardly pull in, not realizing a dog was sleeping in their path. After Barney died, Otis wandered around town, like a lost soul, looking for his buddy. He was never the same afterward. We all, too were changed in seeing the poor dog missing his old friend. Who could blame him; we all did?

So, with a heavy heart last week, my thoughts turned toward Otis and what may have happened to him since I hadn’t seen him in quite a while. The last story I had heard of him was that he saw some people going down the river in kayaks. They petted and spoke to him, kindly giving him some much-needed attention. Otis was so happy to been shown affection that he followed them, swimming and running when he could down the river; and not for just a few yards either. He went with them all the way down the river to a point they eventually put him in the boats with them for fear of him tiring and drowning. Finally, when they reached their destination, they carried Otis back to Collettsville, his home. The lady that brought him back told the people working at the store about his adventure and that she figured it was best to bring him back to where he first started following them.

It was true. Otis, the dog, was home again.

Oddly, as my thoughts had turned toward them last week, it was this week that I learned of the sad news. Otis had been put down. He had developed a brain tumor and, toward the end, couldn’t even open his mouth to eat. It was a bitter end to an old hound dog that had blessed the hearts of so many in the community. Like the sauntering old Otis from the Andy Griffith show, you couldn’t help loving him, even though he nor Barney may have been the cutest dogs around, they were definitely the most loveable.

Once more, my mind still goes back to another morning of our time together. It was a cold, wet morning when I rounded the bend in the road, and there the two town dogs stood, eagerly waiting on me at the edge of the store parking lot. At first, they were hesitant to acknowledge me – a stranger walking down the road in a coat and toboggan. But when I called to them, greeting them, they instantly knew me by the sound of my voice and began to bounce on their front legs, whispering quiet barks of fog into the chilly morning air. Their tails beat so violently that they were quite literally the epitome of – the tail wagging the dog. They were cold and wet, so when I reached our bench at the front of the general store, I could sense that they wanted to share a moment or two together. Years on the farm had taught me to sense an animal’s demeanor, be it good or bad. That day it was one of welcome relief. Thankfully, I had left home early enough to afford me plenty of time before Church started. Enough time that I sat petting my two friends while seated on the bench in front of the Collettsville General Store as they both drifted off to sleep. It was a heartwarming moment, knowing that they had eagerly invited me to join them and then, in their comfort with me, fell asleep on my lap. Their trust and instinctual love allowed for them the presence of mind to let down their guards and to rest in peaceful sleep. In life, there are those rare times that you are aware that your presence is actually making a difference. Sometimes, those moments come in unexpected ways, and when they do, we should take comfort in knowing that God is giving us an example of our love for him, allowing us to find peace in his presence, and when we do, we can finally fully trust and relax in his arms; giving all our cares up to him so that we have nothing to fear. “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”[1]

And for a few minutes, one cold, chilly Sunday morning, two dogs and an old man come together to find solace in one another’s presence, each being cared for by God’s loving hands.

These are the days that sometimes pass like the shadow of the hawk upon the ground, fleeting, but when we look toward the sky, we know from whence they came.

Thanks be to God.

[1] Isaiah 41:10 KJV

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by | July 8, 2019 · 9:38 pm

Make a Way in the Wilderness

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

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by | June 23, 2019 · 8:54 pm

Changed by the Storms of Life

“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.

Let your light shine for all to see.

Thanks be to God.

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by | September 2, 2017 · 10:09 pm

The Rivers We Cross…

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name;
You are Mine.
2 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned,
Nor shall the flame scorch you.
3 For I am the Lord your God,…” – Isaiah 48:1-3

Before me, the mountains lay shrouded in the mist.

Grandfather remains hidden under dark skies. He doesn’t want to be bothered today. The rain had cleared long enough for a short hike, so here I stand watching as clouds like waves on the ocean, crash against the shoreline. In calm, quiet, but formidable stealth, each one smashes against the bulwark of the peaks yet to be engulfed by the coming storms. Somewhere below the mist lay the sleepy little village of Collettsville. Along its main street lined with mill town houses the John’s River flows, clear and cold. Part of my walk had already taken me past its banks confirming that the water was once more, clear of the day’s rains. My mind thought of the recent journeys to church and how for three Sundays in a row I had crossed the river to reach the other side. It became part of my personal challenge. As I explained it to Pastor Joe, it made me appreciate being able to make it to church. In life, we often take for granted the ease with which we worship and all that has made that possible. This summer’s journey had made me more aware of this fact than ever before. So, as part of my weekly walk to Sunday morning preaching, fording the John’s River became my rite of passage, so to speak. Each time I encountered a new twist, a new challenge. Each time, there were the difficulties making it out of the river and up the steep bank on the town side of the water. It made me think of how we often cross our own rivers.

Both my mother and father have gone on. They have both crossed their River of Jordan to reach that far distant shore. Each passed in their own way, but it was my blessing to have had the opportunity to say goodbye to each of them before they stepped into the current and began their journey across; God made that possible. I was not there on the other side to welcome them home, but in some instance, I know they both had steep embankments up which they had to struggle; death did not come easy. So it is for many who have died, and for those times we pray that the Lord give them comfort in their time of crossing. We would want the same. As Christ suffered on the cross for our sins, he too felt the painful anguish of death’s sting, but he was not defeated by it. From life to death we all shall pass, but where we finish is up to us; a choice that must be made here on this side of that beautiful flowing strand.

“A decision many fail to make in time,” I thought to myself, standing there admiring God’s beauty even in the midst of an approaching storm.

The stillness was broken by a shrill snort. Behind me on a tree-covered peak beyond where I stood, a buck huffed irreverently at me; my presence had encroached upon his domain. One couldn’t help to think that perhaps he was as enamored with the scene as was I. The crickets spoke of the coming darkness, so I made my way back down the slope to home leaving the deer to his peace. My thoughts meandered back to the clear flowing waters. Tomorrow I would try once more to find myself wading the waters to reach the sanctuary, challenged but not diminished by what it took to reach that distant shore. The first step is always the hardest.

Likewise, when we decide to take our leap of faith and commit our lives to serving the Lord, the first step is the most difficult. Stepping from the safety of the shore into the unknown can be enough to cause us to reconsider our decision. We think it is all our doing, that we’ll have to make it on our own. What we often fail to realize is that once we begin our journey with Him, that is Him, God, that will be there to help make up the differences we cannot fathom. So when we finally realize that we are not alone, we can make that first step.

The freezing water at first is like burning fire, but with time, we become numb to its pain. As we learn to trust in Him, we are able to carry on, pushing forward, becoming numb to our previous fears. The current is strong, and it takes every ounce of strength to take each new step, yet we are not deterred. In our weakness, we become strong in Him. The reward we seek is far greater than the obstacles that try to dissuade us from reaching that distant shore. The cold has lessened the pains; still, we continue on regardless of what others might say or think. Once we find ourselves committed, standing on the brink of the rushing waters, we still struggle to make the crossing. They never said it would be easy. Trial and tribulation buffet us like the coming storms before me this night. Below the surface, rocks make each step painful as our bare feet seek to guide our way. Meanwhile, we are burdened down by the past life; financially and emotionally. The anchor of our self-inflicted burdens become unwanted drag against the current. Breaking free is in some ways as difficult as dying. In essence, we must die to our formers selves so that we made be made anew in Christ. As Paul said, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.” We tend to try to bring the past with us, and the problems therein. With persistence, we push on. One by one, we set our burdens free, lightening our load. As we learn to walk in our faith, those restraints that kept us shackled to the past are broken away, and we are set free.

With each step, we find a rhythm to the river’s bottom, and soon, we are beginning to find the nearing distant shore. We know we are on the right path for the current is against us, like those trials through which we persevere, the build our character, and with each one, we become stronger in our faith. Once we make landfall, we wearily climb up out of the river, careful not to slip and fall back in. Looking down from above, we can see from whence we came. There is peace in knowing that you have made it through the storm. There is peace in knowing that with Him, all things are possible, and because of Him, we have that distant shore for which we may strive.
The choice is ours.

Step into the water and begin your journey.

You’ll not turn back, for if it is His will, then it shall be done.

Thanks be to God.

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by | March 31, 2016 · 9:22 pm

The World Outside the Box…

If we were to turn to our own way, He would have died in vain. Yet, he did not, for we must instead turn away from these bondages 20160325_194419~2of sin that drag us down.

Tonight I sat in a meeting next to a man that had lost his entire family in the span of 22 months. “I’m the last of my family,” he said somberly.

The words hit me hard. To some people, this would have been enough to make them give up, not the man sitting next to me. He went on to create a successful cleaning company and now stays busier than he wants to be some days.

Many people spend a lifetime seeking, searching, and living in a world they cannot understand. Unable to rise above their environment, they give up and succumb to what weighs them down. If we are to stand for something in our lifetime, we must struggle through the pain and apathy that kill so many dreams.

One by one, we lose those loved ones until one day, we too are no more.

Someone once said that we are nothing but two dates separated by a dash; it is all that remains.

Yet, to me and so many others, the dash in between is where all the living exists. It may be a short, straight line, but if we truly become who God made us to be, the line will be anything but straight and short. To live outside the box of your environmental boundaries, to set break free of the bondages that hold you and keep you from becoming all that God intended you to be, is what living is all about.

“How is that possible,” you ask?

The prophet Isaiah gave us the blueprint for salvation so many centuries before Christ arrived. All that is required is for us to believe in Him, confess with our mouths that Jesus Christ is the one true Son of God and that He died for our sins, on the third day arose and sits at the right hand of God the Father.

“How is that setting me free of my bondages, my addictions?”

Once you truly accept Jesus into your life, your body, mind and soul begin to change in ways that you had never before thought possible. For some, it’s instantaneous. But for most, it takes years for the transformation to be complete. Slowly, day by day, you will find the more precious gifts in life have no price tag: The morning dew on the blooming flower at sunrise: The call of the whippoorwill at dusk, as the fireflies begin their dance across the pasture: The brilliant sunset against a sky of clouds arranged such that their golden seat of God’s heavenly throne is all but complete.

My world is now anything but inside the box. I have chosen not to turn my own way, but His.

I now live in the world solely outside the box, walking in His pathway.

The dash is not a sprint, it’s a lifelong journey and living for God has a whole new meaning.

Yes, each day is another exciting spiritual journey that you never know where it will end.

Thanks be to God.

“But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; We have turned, every one, to his own way; And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” -Isaiah 53:5-6

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by | February 14, 2016 · 8:34 pm

Deep Dive Discovery…

“The work of righteousness will be peace, And the effect of righteousness, quietness and assurance forever.”-Isaiah 32:17

Deep diving into the depths of time. The feeling of finding something left abandoned for centuries, left to its own, quiet repose in the darkness of the ages. The heart quickens with the turn of each page, with the kick of each flipper, deeper and deeper you plunge. The pressure increases as the breath inside tightens against your chest; time is not a luxury here. TextimagesC0RS0RI5 can disappear with time, purposely destroyed by its enemies, crumbling beneath the touch of the finger or simply being lost in vast, dusty repositories, never to be seen again. The moments beneath the surface can seem the same when there are but precious seconds to find a world foreign, fleeting and yet, intriguing. Each mystery calling your inner child to come and follow, so you push on.

We sought the dark holes that were deep enough to challenge us, yet not so deep that their bottom was beyond our grasp. One such place was “Brown Jug” springs, so called because the shape of the cave that surrounded the flow was like a jug, complete with a spout through which you had to pass in order to reach the entry point of the cave where the water poured forth. The water above the spout made a crystal clear pool surrounded by lush, tropical vegetation. In those days, we had explored many of the springs in central Florida while attending college, so I had become pretty good at free diving. However, Brown Jug would test my endurance and strength.

We had no idea of the force of the flow that exited the spout of the jug, so when my friends and I began to try to enter the jug, we soon learned the pressure of the water exploding out of the jug’s mouth was nearly impossible to push through. Adding additional weights to my wetsuit belt, I paused floating on the surface, took the deep breaths that would sustain me as long as possible and dove for the bottom.

I passed the lip of the spout, its depth about six to eight feet, then flipped past the opening into the body of the jug and suddenly the pressure of the flow ceased; I was out of the current and free to explore.

What awaited me was a marvel that I hopefully will never forget, no camera could capture.

There around me was an ancient cave with all manner of column, boulder and rock formations that created a bewildering array of beauty most would never see. Knowing my time was short, I moved around the perimeter finding the source of the flow, another opening from which millions of gallons of water pulsated, blasting out and beyond the spout that was now many feet above. It was a world I will never forget, a place so alien, yet so God-like in its creation. Too soon, the pangs of oxygen deprivation began to remind me, time was of the essence, and I quickly jumped back into the flow, bursting from the cave floor toward the light of the spout above. My body shot through the jug opening and before I knew it, I was back to the surface, drinking in the air as quickly as my lungs could refill.

I could never fully explain the exhilaration I felt at that moment.

risenJesusLooking back, I can only imagine the possible minute similarity of how the women who found Christ not dead, but alive might have felt at the moment of their discovery. What unimaginable exhilaration of joy, their hearts must have felt as they ran with tears flowing to tell the others, “He is risen, He is risen.” There were not enough words, not enough waving of the hands, not enough time to describe the vision of a risen Christ; each would have to see for themselves. Eventually, those who would never see would be forced to have faith in the unseen, “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, evidence of things unseen.”

Today, the diving continues but in another type of exploration, in another medium.

My search is similar in that what I seek, many have never heard, read, nor seen it, yet it is something that has much greater significance than the bottom of a cave; the true Word of God. As I spend countless hours searching ancient documents, archives and repositories for history’s recorded information of how our ancestors kept the Word of God pure for centuries, it is of utmost importance to show how this word found these mountain people. What once was a goal to provide proof that the people of the valleys were directly connected to the Apostles has now become a much greater quest. Now, there is something greater through which God had intended to use them; to preserve the true Word of God so that mankind’s ability to seek Him would not be controlled nor diverted from the original intent or writings.

This last week, as I prepared for my visit with a grad student, brother Timothy Makin, whose Master’s thesis was on the Textus Receptus or Received Text. I took one more dive the evening before our meeting, to seek out one more document I had inadvertently left open. The book itself was suspect for consisting of some questionable personal interjections. Yet, it had provided some very solid references. So one more push into that unknown before the day ended was all that I sought. As my fingers found the page where my last search had left off, I opened it and wrote down the last footnote to investigate. The pages listed were 17-18. From countless other searches, I quickly found my reliable archive and like the experienced diver, knew I was close but time was ticking. The document successfully loaded and I raced to pages 17-18 and began to read.

Nothing. I almost headed back to the surface for air and to end this madness, but something, a voice if you will, told me to look again.

There was no matching text from which the document had referred to the footnote. Almost dejected I started to surface and then stopped. “Before I leave,” I thought to myself, “what if they got the numbering system wrong,” I said as I quickly turned to the Roman numerals for 17 and 18, xvii and xviii. My eyes followed the text until the familiar words leapt from the screen.

There it was!

I breathed a sigh of relief and came up for air.

“Could this be,” I asked myself. Just to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, I reread the passage and then beyond the point of reference; yes, it was true.

There in the document dedicated to the inquiry of the integrity of the Greek Vulgate or Received Text was the quote that hit me like the exhilaration of that surface experience back at the Brown Jug so many years ago:

“This is a supposition, which receives a sufficient confirmation from the fact, that the principal copies that version have been preserved in that diocese, the metropolitan church of which was situated in Milan. The circumstance is at present mentioned, as the author thence formed a hope, that some remains of the primitive Italick version might be imagesCUN5TW2Tfound in the early translations made by the Waldenses, who were lineal descendants of the Italick Church; and who have asserted their independence against the usurpations of the Church of Rome, and have ever enjoyed the free use of the Scriptures. In the search to which these considerations have led the author, his fondest expectations have been fully realized. It has furnished him with the abundant proof on that point to which his Inquiry was chiefly directed; as it has supplied him with the unequivocal testimony of a truly apostolic branch of the primitive church, that the celebrated text of the heavenly witnesses was adopted in the version which prevailed in the Latin Church, previously to the introduction of the modern Vulgate.”-Dr, Fredrick Nolan, 1815, “An Inquiry into the Integrity of the Greek Vulgate or Received Text of the New Testament.”

Suddenly, the world became a little brighter and the week’s weariness was gone.

There in his own words, Dr. Nolan had said that the Waldensians were the remains of the original primitive church, a direct lineal descendent of the people who kept and translated the Textus Receptus from the Greek Vulgate.

Wow.

Not only did I have another confirmation of the Apostolic connection, but now there was something much greater sitting before me; a connection also to the true unadulterated Word, the Textus Receptus, or Received Text through which Dr. Nolan had found proof of our ancestral ties to the lineage of the primitive church of the wilderness.

Although I had never met brother Timothy before, the following day’s meeting with him and his colleagues and subsequent sharing of information about what we have researched and discovered were more than abundantly rewarding. His work is a brilliant piece of study, education and research that is verse by verse showing the proof of purity in the Textus Receptus and how it can only be the True Word of God from which all other interpretations should be taken, and nothing less.

There are still many pages to read, still many references to study. My work is far from over, but with each new discovery comes the hope that the work we do will somehow provide others with a firmer foundation and appreciation for the Truth. Perhaps, this truth will become important enough that there will be a reckoning of faith so that those that have strayed may see the need for preserving His Word. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory.” If nothing else, we must realize, the Word is Jesus and to that end, it’s purification must mean something.

My time here is but short, but the journey I travel has so much more meaning now. Those deep dives are becoming more and more rewarding and someday, the glorious reunion with our Heavenly Father will be one from which we shall shout from the mountain tops with exhilaration.

In everything we do, we must exalt Him and he will surely direct our paths.

One dive and one step at a time.

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by | June 2, 2013 · 11:57 pm

Trains Blowin’ in the Wind…

I have no idea where I was, other than there being green grass on a hillside that dropped off into a valley below. I was there to preach a sermon to a people, yet I had seen nobody. All around me there were what appeared to be white sheets hanging down from the sky, as if there were a huge clothesline in the heavens hanging their laundry out to dry. I searched for someplace secluded that I could change out of my overalls into my suit, so I could prepare for today’s preaching. I was doing like my good friend, Pastor Johnson had suggested and dress up. So today, I actually brought a suit to wear for today’s ministering.

I found a little building setting off to one side, away from the expanse of white cloth that was gently swaying in the breeze. There was a tiny bathroom in the building, and once inside I realized it was so disgustingly filthy that I was afraid to lay anything down, which made changing all that much more difficult. There was no sink in the room, just the toilet. The toilet was the institutional type, so there was no tank or lid where one could place belongings upon. Changing in here would be liability if nothing else, but I continued on.  I eventually succeeded and re-emerged from the glorified outhouse to still find the sheets wafting gently over the green vista before me. The clean air made me quickly forget the filth I had just experienced and I walked through the sweet smelling sheets, reaching out and feeling their freshness as I walked passed. Somehow, touching them made me feel whole and gave me great comfort.

I awoke from the dream, only having acquired half of the sleep I needed for the day, but was somehow refreshed. I wrote down what I had seen just then, but didn’t understand it or what it meant; if anything. I figured I’d give it some time and if it was important, God would reveal it to me.

Sunday we were sitting in our class, preparing for the lesson. The class was speaking about concerns for the members and while they were doing so I looked over my neighbors shoulder to find out what scripture was being covered in today’s lesson. I had missed several weeks and didn’t have the new study guide. I found Isaiah 6:1-8 posted on her weekly study guide, so I silently turned to it and began reading it while the class continued on with their discussions.

At first the Seraphim stood out, with its six wings. I looked up what a Seraphim was while the class was now beginning to read the scripture out loud. As they did I was still listening when I too turned back to the scripture to read along. It was then I heard the words, “In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filled the temple.”

“The train of his robe,” I thought to myself, then about that time somebody or a voice said out loud, “That would look like sheets hanging down from the sky.” I nearly fell out of my chair. I had my journal with me and turned to the page from last Thursday to see what I drew, and there it was; the picture of the sheets hanging down from the Heavens.

I then feverishly read all of the scripture again, pretty much losing track of where and what the class was discussing until I overheard the teacher ask if anyone had ever had visions. One of my dear friends, Laverne Thornton, looked over at me and then pointing in my direction said,”Tim seems to have them quite often.”

“Well, now that you mention it, I was just finding that today’s lesson revealed to me what I had seen last Thursday,” I said as I opened my journal to the drawing. I then explained my vision to the class, and explained to them at the time I had no idea what it meant; not until today. We passed the drawing around for everyone to see. I told them it was giving me chill bumps just thinking about it, because it was still sinking in.

Laverne replied with his usual humorous quip, “I still have that referral to a psychiatrist that I need to get to you.’

We continued following the scripture, but I jumped ahead to the end and saw the final words, “Here I am, Send Me.” I realize that somehow, I had been in God’s throne room, while the train of his robe blew about me. Was I there to receive my orders? Unbeknownst to me the Word of God reached out to me once more when,

“I heard the voice of the Lord, saying:

“Whom shall I send,

And who will go for Us?”

Then it struck me again, “Here I am, Send Me.”

What else can I say?

Now to find those Seraphim.

—————————————————————————————————————–

“In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filled the temple. 2 Above it stood seraphim; each one had six wings: with two he covered his face, with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. 3 And one cried to another and said:

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;
The whole earth is full of His glory!”

4 And the posts of the door were shaken by the voice of him who cried out, and the house was filled with smoke.

5 So I said:

“Woe is me, for I am undone!
Because I am a man of unclean lips,
And I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips;
For my eyes have seen the King,
The Lord of hosts.”

6 Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a live coal which he had taken with the tongs from the altar. 7 And he touched my mouth with it, and said:

“Behold, this has touched your lips;
Your iniquity is taken away,
And your sin purged.”

8 Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying:

“Whom shall I send,
And who will go for Us?”

Then I said, “Here am I! Send me.”- Isaiah 6:1-8

 

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