Tag Archives: Jesus Christ

by | April 18, 2017 · 10:14 pm

A Sunrise, An Easter, A Moment in Time…

Behind Floyd, which was how he had introduced himself to me, the sun began to cast its light upon the ball field. We sat under the shelter of the Athletic Park in Collettsville, not yet squinting, but rather listening intently to the words of the man before us. Pastor Floyd shared with us his past having ministered to many from behind the pulpit at the Berea Advent Christian Church, just across the river. He chuckled to think that probably half of Lenoir had been Baptized in that little river that flowed near where we sat. Behind us, the mountains rose like a giant backdrop to the scene below. The soft golden glow of the sun’s rays were just beginning to melt away the darkness of the night before on those lofty peaks. A few yards away, the echoes of the John’s River could be heard whispering through the trees, its watery pathway unabated, ever flowing. The weathered preacher’s voice had the sound of those old-timey stump evangelists who would travel their circuits, riding on horseback from one little country Church to the next. A twangy drawl with the hint of a nasal pitch that could easily wield the tenor’s spot in the choir. They would draw out certain syllables in order to make the phrase or point more poignant. Their sermons developed a melody of their own as they delivered God’s Word from one hollar to the next. They not only carried the Word of the Lord, but with them traveled the news of the day and the hope of a better tomorrow. It was a combination of two but separate worlds into one. The intertwining of mankind with the earth around us seemed fitting for this Easter morning; our Sunrise Service.

All around us, nature was waking up, acknowledging God’s call to rise. The birds sang in a chorus as the clear blue sky above seemed to ring out the peacefulness of the coming dawn. A slight chill in the air began to sink into one’s being causing one after another to reach for their jacket or sweater, pulling them a little closer around their necks. There was no breeze. The air was still, like the pause before the expectant event, the calm before the storm. His breath steamed in little puffs from his lips as he spoke. My mind drifted over the scriptures he preached about and from one to another, the thoughts seemed to settle. Again, and again, the words scorned the thought of those that would not believe. As we sat and welcomed the chastisement of those who refused to accept that Christ had risen, one couldn’t help to understand how so many, including those early believers had to accept the miracle that took place. For to believe, is to believe in the miracle of the risen Christ. Just as he had prophesized, and like so many before Him, all who had told of the coming Messiah. Yet, there would be those that would not accept his resurrection. So it is today.

Sometimes miracles are too improbable to accept. There must be a law that has been broken, an imparting of the natural, a suspension of belief, for if it were not so, then what has occurred should never have happened; a stone rolled away when it shouldn’t have been, the vision of the risen Christ before a multitude of people.

Yes, the empty tomb is just the beginning of our story.

As the pastor concluded his service, the sunshine began to reach through the trees in bright rays that still had not broken through the sleepy mist that shrouded the world around us. Its muted beams of light glowed upon all the faces around me, erasing age, and time. I paused in my breath as before me, the aged were anew, the affirmed were young once more, and there was no more sickness or sorrow. For a moment, as the break of dawn could be heard across that little valley, there was Heaven on earth.

A sparrow flew past, breaking the spell, and an Amen was spoken by all.

There are moments in time that one seldom dwells upon, but then there are those that one may never forget.

He is Risen, He is Risen Indeed.

Thanks be to God.

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by | April 15, 2017 · 5:58 pm

The Last Piece of Bread…

“30 Now it came to pass, as He sat at the table with them, that He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished from their sight.”-Luke 24:30

Sometimes we find ourselves rushing through this world, missing the blessings that exist before our very eyes. Then sometimes, we are lucky enough to catch that glimpse of something that appears to us which we seemingly cannot believe.

This past Thursday evening, I had just finished a day of testing my students in the last unit before Spring Break. The next day at school would be filled with fun activities that required very little in preparation. Outside the window, the sunshine and blue skies had beckoned all the day long. When my car finally pulled into our driveway, and I opened the door, the fresh air and sound of the woods enveloped me. There was something calling me. So as quickly as I could eat a bite, I found my walking stick, hat, and hiking shoes and set out the back door into the forest beyond.

My anticipation quickened my heartbeat matching those of my footsteps below.

When Mary reported back to the disciples that she had seen something at the tomb, Peter and John rushed out the door, their hearts beating nearly out of their chests. Their minds were ablaze with the impossibility; was He truly alive? Could Mary have been seeing things? Her fervent testimony left no doubt, so they ran onward. Their anticipation drove them faster. As they raced, memories of His teaching drifted back into their consciousness.

As my footsteps traveled along the cool, shadowed pathway, my mind wandered back to the previous week where a walk like this was a strain. I had been fighting a serious head cold, and it was nearly all I could do then to walk the new trail my friend Leroy wanted to show me. It was a wonderful walk along a continual waterfall that ran parallel to us. Opposite to the stream was a grove of Poplar trees. As we walked along, I couldn’t help trying to spy to see if there were any morels along the way. The undergrowth on the forest floor was nearly non-existent, which meant there was little hope of finding any of the precious little mushrooms during that day. From my experience hunting the elusive forest food, I knew that the lack of greenery usually meant it was too early I the season. Usually, they only grow in certain soils in particular weather just about this time each year. In other words, they are difficult to find.

Here I was a week later with the sun slowly setting. Time was running out. I hesitantly put the hopes of finding any morels this season to rest. It was more likely that it would be another year before we might be lucky enough to find them in the new area we call home; that’s just the way it would be.

John literally outran Peter, reaching the edge of the tomb. As he leaned against the round boulder that had the previous day covered the entrance to the crypt, he could smell the dampness of the inner chamber. His legs quivered with fear and excitement. “Was his Savior inside?” There was something that kept him from entering. Around the bend, he could hear the footsteps of Peter coming, yet he could not move. Was it fearing to find the brutally ravaged body of Christ that he dreaded to see once more? Was it the fear of a spirit he hastened to witness? It wasn’t until Peter rounded that curve and came into sight did his courage return.

Like so many of us that go into the world today to witness for Him, we fearfully stand outside the realm of those who need our words the most. We fall short of speaking to others the very thing they need most, the Truth. We cannot go it alone.

Onward I pushed, happy to be out in the sunshine and finally feeling more like myself. As I walked, I began lifting up prayers to God. Before long, I was being filled with his Holy Spirit. He was filling my mind with a multitude of things of which I couldn’t keep track. My cup was surely overflowing.

As the two disciples walked along the road to Emmaus, they were met with a stranger who joined them. They began speaking with him, and he opened their minds to all the scriptures. Even so doing, they did not realize it was Christ who was with them. They reached a point where they were to part with this new-found friend. Yet, so moved were they by his testimony that they kept him as the scriptures described, “But they constrained Him, saying, “Abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.” And He went in to stay with them.”

Just as their minds were overflowing with the words of Jesus, they had yet to fully realize the implications of what they were experiencing.

As my feet trod, one in front of the other, I was nearly singing His praises when I rounded the bend and began an uphill trek. Raindrops started to fall. There had been mention of a possible shower, but not today. I looked toward the distant mountain tops and saw scattered dark clouds. I hastened my footsteps yet again. As my focused changed from spirituality to the now, I realized the darkness growing about me.

Another turn, another bend, and then suddenly, there it was.

As those travelers on the road to Emmaus sat around the table with Jesus, talking and sharing, they still didn’t realize what was before them until their focus was brought to the “Here and Now,” when Jesus broke the bread. Now it came to pass, as He sat at the table with them, that He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished from their sight.”-

Once the bread was broken, their bodies, predictably hungry from their days walk, pushed aside for the moment, their amazement of what that had heard and spoke about during their miraculous journey. It was then, they suddenly realized in whose presence they were, and had been for the majority of their day.

There, in the middle of the rocky trail, barely covered by any soil, stood a single morel.

I shouted out loud, “THANK YOU LORD JESUS!”

Those seated around the table that evening, when he broke the bread and blessed it, were about to witness the unbelievable. When He handed each of them their own piece of bread, their eyes were opened as had their minds been earlier in the day. It was then they realized who He was, and in that instant, He vanished before their eyes.

Did they shout, “THANK YOU LORD JESUS?”

Did they pause as they held the very bread of which Christ had handed them?

There before me was something that grew in such a rare occurrence, it could be said to be Heaven sent. No, it was not Christ, and no, it was not something miraculous, but it was a blessing so unexpected, it took my breath away.

I hesitated before bending down to pick up the precious morsel, then looked to Heavens. The rain had paused, and a shaft of sunlight shone down through the canopy above. “Thank you, Lord, for this blessing,” I whispered out loud.  I know in my heart that at that very moment those disciples too felt the urge to call out to God and thank Him for His Son.

We are all so very blessed.

One can only imagine that moment, that very minute when those disciples were handed that piece of food, and then to have Him seated before them.

Manna was sent from God to keep His children alive as they wandered those long years through the desert. That manna became their bread of life. Jesus died for our sins, so that we may have eternal life. He became our bread of life so that we may have eternal life, if only we accept Him into our hearts. We confess with our mouths our sins we believe with our hearts. When we consume the bread of life, we are taking that which is perishable which represents that which is not, Christ.

A morel, in a way, is like manna from Heaven. It is something that we might eat, sustaining our bodies while allowing us to give thanks to Him for providing something that is so uniquely special, it can only be a gift from God.

One morel, one last piece of bread from the hand of God, each one a blessing to those who receive.

This Easter, let us be thankful for a God, who gave His Only Son so that we might have salvation and eternal life. We need only recognize Him, and accept Him into our hearts when we confess our sins.

Blessed be Thy Name,

Thanks Be to God.

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by | April 9, 2017 · 8:59 pm

The Promise of My Father…

“Behold, I send the Promise of My Father upon you; but tarry in the city of Jerusalem[i] until you are endued with power from on high.”-Luke 24:49

Nothing excites me more than when someone brings up the power of the Holy Spirit.

In my life, there has been nothing as real and as powerful as the feeling when one is endued with the power on high. It is understood that for some, this statement is only that, a statement of words that are indescribable since there is nothing for which they might perceive to compare it with. Now before I go any further, I want to reiterate with the utmost integrity, that this is not being boastful or prideful; it comes from the perspective as one awakening to a new feeling that until now, might have been missed or even overlooked. To understand what I mean, I must begin at the beginning. Then, and only then, we might come to have a basis for what it is to “Receive” the Holy Spirit.

In Jesus time, he repeatedly spoke to the disciples of how they would receive the Holy Spirit, the Helper, as he called it, who would be with them after he was gone. “But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you.”-John 14:26

Their eyes seemed to always be on the present, unable to grasp the prophecy to which Jesus was constantly alluding. Who can blame them? Here they were in the midst of the true Son of God, the Messiah, the miracle worker. Daily they witnessed the unbelievable, every day they saw gross deformities become healed, the demon possessed cleansed, and the dead arise from their deathbeds. How could they look beyond when there were so many amazing things happening right before them? It’s ironic that today, unlike those of the disciples, we are distracted by the plans of the coming day, the week ahead, the calendar, and all that must be done in the days’ time. We are so focused on what is next, we too often miss what is right before us, and this is where we begin to overlook the obvious, the miracles in our lives that appear and are gone before we take the time to reflect upon them. Unlike the disciples, we cannot focus on the present, when all we do is look ahead. They were the opposite, unable to look ahead due to what was before them.

Call it the irony of God.

What is the common thread between the two ironies; the presence of Jesus Christ of course?

When He is with us, we are relieved of our daily burdens. The future is a distant memory. Those distractions that kept us from our daily scripture slowly fade to dark as the light of the Word illuminates our hearts with the truth. Like those disciples, we have little concern for the future when all we need is here with us.

Yet, too many times, we slip in our walk of faith and fall back into that daily rut of trying to keep pace with the world around us. At this same time, we also miss the opportunity to accept and to recognize when we are in the presence of the Holy Spirit. We rush from one appointment, one event to the next and miss what often matters most. In these precious moments, we too often fail to accept the power from on high. When, and only when, our minds are one with God, can we fully embrace and receive Him. It is then when we are still and listening to that small voice, are we suddenly flooded from head to toe with a power so incredible, so electrifying, that one can barely keep their feet upon the very ground upon which they trod. It is then when we are overflowing with the Spirit that we find ourselves at a new and higher ground in our spiritual walk with God; greater than ever before.

Yet, this is not just something we can call upon, for it to happen. It is a power from on high, and as such, is only Heaven sent. That’s why Jesus told his disciples to go to Jerusalem and wait; wait for the Holy Spirit. They were instructed to call upon the Spirit, but to wait. Although their eyes had been opened to the scriptures, they still were required to wait for the Spirit.

One can have all the knowledge, knowing, and understanding of the entire Biblical encyclopedia but without the Holy Spirit, it is just that, only knowledge. The true power to go and do His will is when the two are combined as one: The Holy Spirit with the mind of the disciple. This is what Jesus had prepared his followers for once he was gone. He knew that without the Helper, they would be fearful of what they did not know, they would be hesitant to journey to those distant lands; therefore, they needed something that was greater than they were capable of conceiving, the Holy Spirit.

Walking with Jesus each day, we now have Him within us, as we carry the Word. With our understanding comes wisdom. Yet, it only takes us so far, we must also wait for that Spirit to be endued within each of us, lest we fall and stumble before we are ready to set out on our mission.

So now we are ready to speak of what it is to receive the Holy Spirit.

As we continue our daily walk in faith, we learn more and more about what it is to be a Christian or Christ-like. When we do, journey in our faith, we slowly awaken or become aware of things we might have overlooked that we now understand. Scriptures we once read as a matter-of-fact take on new meanings. The world around us becomes brighter, for in everything we see, we the Creator’s hand. Our senses become heightened to new realities we never understood. One of these is when we are filled with the Holy Spirit; whether we believe it or not.

Now for some, the realization, or the indwelling of the Spirit comes as a shock. For them, it is an instantaneous blast of heavenly power that is absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt, the Holy Spirit. Sometimes these people, in that moment of receiving the Spirit, lose their conscious minds and fall to the floor. In these cases, there is no mistaking when that person has received the Holy Spirit. I’ve witnessed these before and just to be there in their presence is as powerful as their receiving; it is a moving and emotional experience for all.

Then there are the subtler occasions when we have only been induced from without by the power so subtlety that one might mistake it for a chill, rather than the Spirit. Those moments when we see the unexplainable, like the light from spirits moving before a camera when there were just seconds before and saw nothing. Or the time when someone spoke a word, then the door blew open and a cold breeze wisped across your feet. Or the time when you felt the hand upon your shoulder pull you back, just as you were about to step off the curb just as the out of control car blew passed where you were about to step. When you turned to thank them, there was nobody there. These are the events that might escape our perception if we are not one with Him. Many explain them away as mere coincidence while others bring in the pagan beliefs of ghosts or hauntings. The realization of the truth escapes them. It is not until they call on His name, do they start to realize what it is to be overcome with the Spirit.

In time, we eventually awaken to the Holy Spirit. It is then, in those rare moments when we finally recognize that surge of voltage through our core, that shakes the nerve endings into a tingling sensation that almost lift us off the floor; these are the God knowing moments when your world changes forever; the enduing. Those who have felt it sometimes cannot explain it. Like Ezekiel trying to explain what he couldn’t understand in the vision of the Heavenly being, there are God things that are beyond our comprehension. We only can explain what we know, and in that manner, our words are sometimes not enough.

Many have felt the presence of the Lord, and in various forms. Their stories are a testimony to the power of believing.

A good friend and brother in Christ, Doug Stuart, experienced the power of the Spirit at a time when he needed it the most; his mother’s funeral. Doug was preparing to sing and speak at her service when he was suddenly overcome with doubt and fear. I’ve known Doug for several years, and to hear him say that he would be unable to speak or to perform would be unbelievable, yet there he was, moments away from failing his mother’s dying wishes. At that moment, he knew there was only one thing he could do; to pray to God for strength. It was then he described what it was to feel the power of the Holy Spirit come over him, like a gentle warmth of the Heavenly Father, wrapping him in love, lifting him up and giving him the strength to carry on. Yes, God was with my friend, and within my brother. He not only sang but spoke at length of his mother’s wonderful life. The son testifying for his mother, a love known like no other.

My cousin Davetta got the phone call from her mother telling her that my father had awakened out of the coma he had fallen within during one of the later hospital visits in his life. I remember that day as well. It was a miracle in and of itself. The doctors had said that they should call the family in since the end was near. Davetta said that she felt the power of the Holy Spirit come over her after that phone call. She remained lifted up from that feeling for the remainder of the day. The same thing happened when her Aunt had the same experience, she once again was endued from on high and was renewed with a feeling of Spirit so great that it literally changed each of those days in her life. She was blessed each time by the hand of the Lord.

Personally, I had felt the power of the Spirit before, but it was something that I didn’t understand or able to recognize. It wasn’t until I openly committed my life to following the Lord that I became aware of when the Spirit was with me. It started when I was serving at the Trail of Faith. Again, and again, there would be the tour where we would be witnessing about the story of the Waldensian people, when suddenly, never at the same place, never at the same time in the tour, the power of the Holy Spirit would come down upon myself and those around me. It wasn’t something that I singularly felt because those before me would speak, shout, or sometimes cry with joy. It was an utterly rapturous experience, time and time again. There was one tour in particular that I will never forget. Pastor Rick was there with his wife and a friend. We started out early that day because the visitor had to be heading back to Michigan. Something about the tour was different from the start. We began the tour at the map inside the Visitor’s Center, which was not uncommon. For special guests or tours, we often would begin the tour with a prayer. That day, the Holy Spirit came on us immediately. We continued feeling blessed already, but it wasn’t the end of the story. Sporadically as we made our way down the trail we would stop and pray, each time, once again, the Spirit came down. Each time it happened, the power grew greater. The final time, we stopped in the parking lot as they were about to depart and said a final prayer. It was then I felt as if I were being lifted off the ground, so great was the electric surge through my body. The hands of those I held could feel it through me as well. It was something to behold, and something that I’ll never soon forget.

However, this was not to be the last. God’s plan was not yet finished.

Before I knew it, the place I thought was to be the fulfillment of my calling turned out to be just a stepping stone.

Whenever, and wherever God leads, once you begin the journey, you must go. No matter the circumstance, no matter the location, there is purpose in everything we do.

So, when they day came that I found myself employed part-time at the Ski Slope in Blowing Rock, I had to shake my head in bewilderment. Somewhere in that place, there was a purpose for my being there other than to pay for affordable ski lift tickets for my children. Within a few hours of my second day, the purpose was unveiled, and eventually, I would find a brother in Christ in need. Week after week, we came to know one another and in that time, when we would spend extended lunch session studying scripture, there He was once more with us. In that dimly lit corner of the ski lodge, brother’s in arms became united in spirit, being filled from on high by the one true Spirit. We found purpose and another brother found his calling. More than once as we witnessed to each other, and soon, those around us, we both felt the power of the Holy Spirit moving in the one of the most unlikeliest of places.

In my journey, there is one thing I have discovered. You may never know when and where it will happen, but one thing is for sure, to witness to others is one of the best ways to make it happen.

As one of the last final commands by Jesus to his disciples was to fulfill the great commission, to go unto all foreign lands after having been endued with the Holy Spirit, making disciples for Christ. “But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be witnesses to Me in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” – Acts 1:8

We too, are to go out into the world once we have truly received Christ into our hearts, and having been filled with the Holy Spirit. It is our purpose and our calling as Christians to go and witness the wondrous truth of God’s love and the victory we have over death when we follow the one who died for all our sins.

We have a choice. Allow the Holy Spirit to fill you to overflowing, and when you have received, go forth and share.

You’ll never look back.

Thanks be to God.

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by | February 21, 2017 · 9:21 pm

Strength to Carry On…

“For You have armed me with strength for the battle; You have subdued under me those who rose up against me.” -Psalm 18:39

Standing facing the biting cold, as ice pellets from the snow guns burn the flesh on my skin, I wait for the next person in line to come to me. My job; to check the lift ticket for an expiration time and date. My toes are so cold that the feeling has left them, now a numbness matches those of my fingers. “There must be a purpose for my being here,” comes the thought. “Why must I suffer so?” My mind drifts back to another time of struggle, another time of physical hardship.

The dark water swirls around him as he fights to remain afloat. The tiny frame of a boy’s body barely has enough flesh to cover his bones, let alone any fat to help keep him afloat. Tirelessly he battles the fluid that tries to pull him under while struggling to keep his chin above the surface. His thin arms barely have enough strength to continue, but the merit badge requires a full 30 minutes to tread water; so he battles on. He thinks of what he must do in order to succeed. He cannot fail, for failure is not an option in his young mind. From the edge of the dock, the lifeguard yells at him to keep kicking, “Use your cross stroke…don’t give up.” The voice sounds distant, as if in another world. His breath labors as a numbness begins to drift from his mind to his legs. The void below he no longer fears as a certain calmness flows across his consciousness. Above him, the blue sky seems endless as if there is no end to its height. In his last moments he feels his body drifting toward the eternal blueness beyond; then nothing except the gentle hands of those raising his nearly lifeless body from the void. He had made the time, but his tiny frame was nearly spent. He breathed in the air and faced the sky above as he lay on the dock listening to the waves rippling against the wood. Calmness overwhelmed him as peace enveloped his being; God was there.

The mind drifts onward; another place another time. Sweat trickles down his spine, tickling as it runs the length of his body. The heat creates wavering ripples of vision across the tarmac before him. He stands at parade rest along with the rest of his squadron. Attired in their dress blues, their presence underneath the blistering Texas sky is all the more picture perfect. No one can move a muscle lest they face infractions for the inspection. Today is the General’s Parade, the last of their training at the San Antonio facility where the Basic Training for Flight 61 has taken place over the last six weeks.

The young Airmen doesn’t flinch as gnats crawl in and out of his nose, stinging his eyes as they crawl about every orifice mercilessly. He pushes the feeling from his mind, welcoming the return of the numbness experienced once before in his life, a feeling of calmness when darkness whispers into one’s ear. He again begs the question, “Why am I here, and what is my purpose.” There is no response. There is no breeze. The breath of the asphalt overwhelms even the faintest hint of cool as the mind races to find something with which to grasp onto. A hope, a prayer, anything to relinquish it from the here and now. The conscious mind searches the depths of the soul for memories upon which to dwell. Fighting through the suffocating air, labored breath comes. He tries to focus, but blurred eyes find little comfort. “Lord take me away from here, give me relief, show me the way,” he whispers under his breath. His leg nearly buckles as he recalls the instructions not to lock your knees. He hesitantly, but carefully shakes it off. Two rows over another airman falls backward, passed out before he hit the pavement. The thud of his body hitting the ground leaves an eerie sound etched into their collective memories. Across the parade grounds, onlookers peered through veiled eyes as they searched for their loved ones, hoping the fallen were not theirs. A wisp of a breeze gently caresses the flag near the crowd, too far away for relief. Too far away to be felt. Comfort. Too far away; too far…away. “God will surely give me comfort.”

The images fade as the wind picks up.

The snow swirls around like sheets on a clothesline blowing in the wind on a summer’s day. One by one, through the whiteness they come, shuffling their skis as the inch toward the gate. I check them through blurred eyes; blurred not from sweat, but rather, from cold and blinding snow. There is a purpose in my being here. “He would not have it, if it were not so,” I tell myself. “In His time, it will become evident.”

Little did I know, it had already begun.

When we begin our walk with Christ, our journey can lead us anywhere at anytime. We have a purpose in life wherever we go once the journey begins.

And so it is.

Although I might never have envisioned myself working at a Ski Slope part-time, I have found that in everything we do, there is purpose when we serve a living God. There is so much more to tell, but all in due time.

All in due time.

Thanks be to God.

You can learn more about God’s plan for my journey at Mission to Ride.

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by | February 18, 2017 · 9:23 pm

I Once Was Blind…

“The lamp of the body is the eye. If therefore your eye is good, your whole body will be full of light…” -Matthew 6:22

I once was blind, but now I see.

There are few greater gifts than that of sight.

Vision is both a physical and a philosophical entity.

On the one hand, we are unable to see the world around us without our eyesight. We awaken each day and find a world of color and light bringing to us all the nuances of living. To our eyes, darkness is the veil of gloom, something we fear, and rightly so. As we age our eyes change and many become victims of cataracts or worse. As the light begins to fade, too often so does the spirit. That virility of the drive in our youth begins to wane, and as the sunset of life cast dark shadows around us. We sense an end, but there is so much more.

The other aspect of vision is that of the ability to spiritually or mentally see something that is not there. Some call having vision the gift to see into the future and to be able to prophesize as to what is to come. Others call having vision, the ability to think ahead of oneself and create something mentally before it exists. No matter which vision we are speaking of, there is something to be seen which is not evident, neither terrestrial or physical.

Before I had answered his calling to serve at the Trail, the optometrist had warned me of a quickly growing cataract. However, once the wheels of the journey began, there was little time to deal with physical ailments, let alone the fact that Marketplace Insurance would do little to cover the costs of the surgery needed to fix the affliction. So I continued on while the ever growing and diminishing eyesight continued.

All along, I knew in order to be better serve in my capacity as the Director of the Trail, I would have to be as the scriptures read, to die to my former self. “That was simple,” I reasoned. “I’m no longer an engineer, rather, I need to learn how to minister to those seeking faith.” As a dedicated Christian, everything I did, I did with an eye toward the Lord. So, I poured over the Bible like never before. I studied Church history and spent every waking hour filling my mind with the knowledge of what it would take to better serve Him. Every day, my eyesight grew dimmer as the darkness grew. The harder I worked, the greater the scope of the darkness around me seemed to expand as well. There had been many bridges burned before I ever arrived, whether intentional or not. Not only did I face a physical obstruction within, but there was also a force beyond that could not be battled alone. “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.”-1 Peter 5:8 In essence, I realized that to make the Trail all it could be, would take many years, not just a couple; nonetheless, I pushed on.

All the while, a greater awareness of the spiritual world around me began to take hold. There amongst the prayers, the coincidences that weren’t, to the unexplainable events a new perception of reality began to take hold. A new vision through the eyes of faith began to color the world around me. Like a shift from the days of black and white TV, to those of color TV, there was a gradual enrichment of life. This sweeter taste of living began to overwhelm my senses to the point nothing else compared. The desires of the past paled to what I now could see through the eyes of my new spirituality.

Meanwhile, God was making new plans for me, for this was not the final resting place in my journey; it was just the beginning, a stepping stone.

I soon found one door closing and a new one opening. Blessings answered doubts, fears were replaced with joys. However, amongst the beautiful changes, there was still the ever encroaching darkness. Day-by-day, the cataract grew until the vision out of my right eye was like looking through a sheet of wax paper. My left eye was deteriorating as well; time was running out. To add to the struggle, the drive to and from the new career required driving along curvy mountain roads unlike any I had ever traversed in my lifetime. The thought of those winding country roads back where I grew up on in Posey and Warrick Counties came to mind, but they were nothing compared to these mountain hairpin turns. At times they literally can take your breath away as you peer into the abyss that lay below, where no guardrail exists to block your view. My vision ha become so severe that at I would pray before leaving the house for School in the pre-dawn hours knowing what lay ahead. The ultimate test came the day the fog was so thick the lines on the road were barely visible. As I drove up the mountain, the fog increased in its density as the rain began to fall. Curve after curve, the rain and fog decreased my already reduced visibility to nearly nothing.

It was then, beyond all belief, the windshield wiper flew off.

I watched the last vestiges of my visibility seemed to fade to nothing. The car slowed to a crawl so that I might make sense of the blurred images before me.

“God, if this is a test, please let me know when I can turn it in, cause I think I’m about at the end of my ability to cope.”

Slowly as I inched along, as if on cue, around the next turn, the clouds broke, the rain subsided, and the fog disappeared.

“Thanks be to God,” I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

With time, God gives us the ability to understand more than we have before. With time, we learn from whence we came, and to that extent, we become more of whom we for which we were created. “Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.” -Jeremiah 33:3

There came into my life a renewed expectance. Like one receiving a gift, there is the anticipation of what lies ahead. So it was when we found an optometrist that performed not only cataract surgery but repair of eye lenses, I knew God’s hand was at work. Not only was my physical vision repaired, but now, Thanks be to God, it is corrected for life. What was even more miraculous was that the blessings of help came from friends and a new medical policy which now covered the procedure. All of this would not have been possible if the door had not closed and the other one opened.

“I was once blind, but now I see,” are words that I cannot take lightly anymore.

Dying to one’s former self is more than just the occupation, as I had thought. Yes, I realized that one would also die to those former earthly desires of the flesh, but what I hadn’t understood was that it was an awakening of perception of life as a whole. In the past, my five and ten-year goals were based around climbing the corporate ladder, finding myself in a greater place of wealth, and striving to obtain earthly possessions. Once my vision changed, so did my perception of my purpose in life as a whole. The slamming door made me realize that He had blessed me with knowledge for a reason. While I was to serve Him in all that I do, it was also using all that I am. In other words, part of my former self was still necessary in order to go forward with my journey at hand.

My learning continues as I now stand before those who are doing likewise. As I strive to be better in my new-found career, I also continue in parallel my study of His Word. My goals are nothing more than to make myself better equipped to serve Him in this journey and to see the world as He would have me to do so.

My vision is clearer more than ever before. With new eyes I see.

Like the blind beggar, we only have to ask in order to receive, “So Jesus stood still and commanded him to be brought to Him. And when he had come near, He asked him, 41 saying, “What do you want Me to do for you?”

He said, “Lord, that I may receive my sight.”

42 Then Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has made you well.” 43 And immediately he received his sight, and followed Him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.” – Luke 18:40-42

My vision of the future now has only one goal; to seek Him and receive the gift of eternal life. He gave His only Son to us, so that we may have eternal life. How much greater motivation do we need than that? “…the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

In all that we do, let us strive to be all that we can for His will.

“For I once was blind, but now I see.”

Thanks be to God!

You can learn more about God’s plan for my journey at Mission to Ride.

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by | December 10, 2016 · 11:59 pm

Every Season has a Meaning…

“He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it.”-Matt 10:39

The mountains are shrouded by a thick blanket of clouds today. Grandfather remains hidden like an ancient being wrapped up in his winter blankets; protected from all harm, safe but unseen. Water drips from the leaves as the river now runs with fully bodied spirit over the rapids that just a few weeks ago barely made a trickling sound.

Shards of dark earth lie in rows of the fields of upturned soil. The gentle rain flows deep into the crevices, soothing the parched earth that seldom finds the touch of rain. All around us somber earth tones match the mood of the sky above; winter is now upon us in full season.

sod

In my mind’s eye, I’m standing down the hill from the old farmhouse, looking back up the hill from whence I came. Images that were never apparent until now suddenly reveal themselves. Unlike the front of the home, from behind we can see all of the genuineness of the life of those who live within; the clothesline where the wash will be hung, the burning barrel where the trash will be burnt, and finally the back porch where everything from the deep freezer to the canning table sits, awaiting the next growing season. Here, the real work of life goes on, out of sight. Like the soil, until the blade of the bottom plow chisels into the

The Old Farmhouse outside New Harmony, Indiana, 1965.

The Old Farmhouse outside New Harmony, Indiana, 1965.

earth, causing an upheaval of sediment, the true work of the earth cannot be seen. The dirt folds over like the corners of the grandma’s quilt on the bed, rolling up the root-side of the dirt, exposing it to the elements. Meanwhile, the sod below begins to decay adding nutrients and building more compost for the future.

One layer must die so that the other may live.

We too are like these things, the soil and the farmhouse. What truly makes us who we are is what we are within; the part of us that cannot be seen from the outside. To reveal ourselves is to have the bottom plow cut us deep within and fold over our barriers we have created. Many fear revealing their true nature and only do so in short burst of often uncomfortable circumstances that they wish they could have prevented. Sin makes this possible, and since we are all sinners, each of us has this inner being with which we battle daily.  In essence, we are comprised of a triune being; body, soul, and spirit. (1Thess.5:23) The world and Satan try to affect us from the outside in, while God works on us from the inside out. He infuses us through our spirit. From the inside out we are changed when we truly accept Jesus Christ into our lives. Like the back of the farm house where the real work takes place, out of sight, inside us is where the actual work has to start. We have to choose to allow the Holy Spirit to come into our lives, so that from within, we will be filled with a new light, which then will begin to permeate into our soul, and eventually our body. The longer we walk with Christ, the more our whole being changes; our tastes, our likes, and how we physically seek pleasures in this world, knowing what is to come is even greater. One is never finished in this manner, as we are always a work in progress.

Like the soil, we must die to our former selves in order to live for Him. “He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it.”-Matt 10:39 We cannot have the sinful pleasures of this world and still try to obtain sanctification. One cannot stand with one foot in sin and one in Christ. He is a jealous God and wants us all or nothing. So, we continually battle an enemy that never stops trying to make us fall. Hopefully, in time or by chance someone shares the opportunity to find and accept Christ into your life, it is then that you will come into the season of change.

For every season there is meaning and purpose.

The prayers we lifted for the life-giving rain have been answered. The fires are all out, and once more the forest begins to heal. Like the sod that has been turned for preparation for the next year’s growing season, we too have to decide in that season when to begin the life we lead.

Are you ready to get to work?

Eternity awaits your decision.

Thanks be to God.

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by | November 15, 2016 · 9:33 pm

The Lamp of the Body…

img_20160229_185127“The lamp of the body is the eye. If therefore your eye is good, your whole body will be full of light.” – Matthew 6:22

The laser lowered closer to the eye, all the while, the doctor reassuring his patient everything was going well. “You’re doing great,” he calmly spoke in a second thought sort of tone, obviously focusing on the surgery at hand. Closer the beam of the green light came until there was contact, a brilliant light, and then complete, utter darkness.

Nothing but black, coal, nothingness.

In that moment of doubt, a world of questions flowed through that portal into the unknown abyss. Patterns danced about as my mind raced to understand how and why. It was as if the light in my soul had been extinguished, so permeating was the blackness before me. Streams of energy passed through the channel as I silently prayed. Scenes of childhood, patterns of imagery, and all manner of beautiful images played out before me as the void enveloped everything.

I prayed for calmness and the steady hand of the surgeon to do his work.

Then it was done.

The light re-emerged, fractured and confused.

“Close your eyes now and rest,” were the next words the doctor spoke. “We’re all done. You did great.”

“Amen,” I whispered.

For months, my right eye had nearly been blind, except for the blur of figures that I could discern through its milky covering. The vision was like looking through waxed paper. Driving in the dark was the hardest, as glare would blanket my eyesight, often causing me to whence with pain. The cataract had grown quickly; too quickly. Our previous Market Place Insurance premium was so high there was no way we could have afforded the surgery. In fact, that was why we had waited as long as we did; we just couldn’t afford it. But Jesus told us, “Ask and you shall receive, knock, and the door will be opened.” So I prayed, again and again.

Our prayers are often answered, but never in the manner in which he had imagined.

From one door closing to the next one opening, there was no thought as to where it would all end. The only guiding principal was that the Lord was leading us, and where He willed us, we would follow. Never understanding, even now, as to why He was leading us where He did, we kept following. Eventually, that next door found us in a place where the medical benefits would finally pay enough to allow us to afford the eye surgery.

Another prayer answered.

After weeks of waiting, preparation and scheduling, the day had come. After what seemed a lifetime, my surgery was complete. The worse of the two eyes was now repaired. There would be no immediate satisfaction. Knowing just how good the changes were would have to wait until the next day when the swelling and incision had time to heal. There was no lingering pain or side effects, only the question was, “How big a change would I experience?”

Exhausted and spent, I went to bed early that night. Although I was wearing an eye shield, sleep came easily and soundly.

The next morning, gray shades of the dawn began to creep into our bedroom. Unthinking, I arose from bed and dressed, making my way to the bathroom. I had forgotten to pick up my glasses. As I neared the light, something twinkled in my eye. I started to go back to retrieve my glasses to see better but stopped. There was something clearer that I hadn’t seen in a long time. Nearing the nightlight, I looked and could see bursts of clarity that took my breath. Suddenly, I felt like a child on Christmas morning, rising before the dawn to find the presents under the tree. My heart raced as I neared the mirror, slowly peeking at the shield. Underneath, my eye blinked and cleared away the sleep. I stared in disbelief at myself, looking through gauze and plastic, at a much clearer picture than before. Careful, according to the doctor’s orders, I removed the shield, inserted the prescribed drops and timidly made my way to the kitchen. Outside, the sunlight was just beginning to warm the treetops in the forest behind our home. The brilliant glow sparkled like a thousand stars. Up above, the sky formed a brilliant blue that seemed to leap from the air into my soul.

I pushed the button to start the coffee brewing then stepped into my house slippers and opened the front door. Like a newborn walking for the first time, I slowly stepped out into the vibrant world of colors that I had nearly forgotten. Everywhere I looked, things sparkled and shone like ripples on the surface of the water. There was no comparison. It was as if my eye was as clear and crisp as the morning air. Emotion began to overwhelm me when I thought about how we had come to this place and that now, God had once more answered prayer.

Again, and again, the impossible had been made possible.

Tears welled up in both my eyes and I looked toward the heavens. There up above, the most beautiful full moon still shone, in glorious detail. The light from within had once more found the light from without, and the two were one once more.

“Thanks be to God,” I breathed out loud, my breath emitting a fog in the frigid dawn, taking on a shimmering orange glow from the coming sunrise.

As I looked skyward, it was as if God filled my cup to overflowing, as tears began to flow down my cheeks.

There is no more greater gift than that of sight. For we were once blind, but now we see, that when we receive His glory, we can have eternal life.

If only we see.

Yes, the eye is the lamp of the body, and through it, we may seek Him. For to receive Christ into our lives, is to receive the light, and through the lamp, so doth the light flow.

Prayers were lifted, prayers were answered, and once more, the Glory of God shines for all to see.

Thanks be to God!

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by | November 12, 2016 · 8:51 pm

Finding Our Purpose…

20161111_162129“And the Lord appeared to him the same night and said, “I am the God of your father Abraham; do not fear, for I am with you. I will bless you and multiply your descendants for My servant Abraham’s sake.” – Genesis 26:24

It began in a land far, far away, in a time long before our existence was ever imagined; our purpose in this life.

On a rare family trip, one sunny November afternoon, we once more found ourselves exploring the beauty of our new home here in the mountains of North Carolina. As our footsteps tread upon the stones interlaced with roots like sinews of a sleeping leviathan, my thoughts wandered back to how wonderfully made was this world in which we live. For the short time we are here on earth, God prepares us each day for our heavenly home if only we stop and listen. Those spectacular, but brief, moments when we taste, see, or hear ecstasy on earth, it is but a moment in time compared to what awaits. For us to understand, is as if we might fathom our purpose here on earth.

The air upon the mountain top often allows for one to contemplate many things, but none so sobering as to why we are, and where we are, in our journey with God. To stand and span the vista surrounding you can easily impress upon you the vastness of all that surrounds us when few look beyond the four walls of their self-induced prison cell of existence.

It has been said to understand the will of God is to be one with God, something very few people ever come close to realizing. It is as if we spend out lifetime searching for that purpose by which we seek. The inspirational speakers of our day demand we set goals, both long term, and short term; yet, when we walk in His presence, these terrestrial benchmarks matter little. If we truly look back at our lives and wonder when we were fully in control of our destiny, we might be fooled into thinking we have been the master’s of our own ship, but that would certainly be, at least in my case, a ship of fools. Exacting our own gifts to do what we are capable of is to ignore our God given abilities, that alone, we are nothing. In our seeking to be independent of our dependence upon our Creator, we are lulled into an imaginary existence of superiority, being an equal to God; a deadly belief if there ever was one. Like a child wanting to be an adult, many think they can satisfy all their own needs by their own hand. Yet, all that they obtain is never enough. So, the cycle of want and desire become and endless loop, pulling the soul into an abyss from which there is no escape. It is as if we yearn to age before our time only to find ourselves seeking ways back to our youth; a never ending cycle of longing and desire for that which we had, but never fully appreciated.

Some stop in time to finally see the futility and ask, “Why?” If they are blessed to have heard and accepted Jesus Christ as their Savior, then the choice is clear.

There is but one true purpose.

When we awaken to that realization, of one true purpose, and that is to serve Him, then everything else pails in comparison. Those flash-in-the-pan inspirational speakers with their sound bites and tips on how to succeed are nothing but the sound of dry bones rattling in Ezekiel’s desert. All those goals and incremental steps to control our future are merely like the mist floating across the river, appearing for a time then vanishing with the wind.

In fact, long before we are born, God has already begun preparing our paths, making the multitude of variables that will seemingly fall into place on the very day you need them to occur, appear as if by some strange circumstance, your dream came true. For many, those prayers answered had begun before their knock was placed upon the door.

We might kid ourselves into thinking we understand our place and our purpose, but in reality, we are merely speculating.  Just when we think we’ve got it figured out, that door, the one that seemed so solid, so true, will close before your next breath and in the blink of an eye, the world you thought you were the master of becomes the past; a lesson learned.

As Isaac struggled to survive the famine and lead his family from one well to the next, God came to him, telling him that his purpose had been established long before he came into being. His very reason for living was already determined, but yet to be realized. Even so, he had to become the man God had intended him to be, regardless of his faults and shortcomings.

Walking back from our long hike in the thin, cool mountain air there was much for us to consider. For what we do is always on display for others to observe. If we are truly walking with Him on our journey, then we need only comprehend, even if we were to say nothing, that our walking along the narrow ledge of that mountain trail would be enough to speak volumes about who we are and for which we stand. When we stumble, He is there to catch us. When we fall, He is there to pick us up. When we allow his light shine for all to see, He is there to glorify all.

In all that we do, may our walk along life’s pathway be one that glorifies our heavenly Father, so that on that final day of visitation, we may pleasing in his eye.

One may never fully understand why God has placed them upon their path or their purpose in life, but if we accept that just our being there, walking that narrow trail, is simply enough, then we can better accept our fate, our lot in life.

Life on the mountain is a blessing each day.

In all that we do, give thanks to God.

Thanks be to God!

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by | October 11, 2016 · 8:30 pm

Another Door Opens…

“Truly my soul silently waits for God; From Him comes my salvation.” – Psalm 62:1

Sometimes it’s hard to know where to begin.

My footsteps echoed down the hallway as I made my way to the classroom. The sun had just begun to warm the horizon of the nearby mountain top as my key turned the lock to my new office; my home away from home. The thought rolled over in my mind like the key in the lock, “Could I have ever imagined being here a year ago?”

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Back then, my mindset was one of total commitment to the Trail in order to serve the Lord, acting as the Director at the Trail of Faith. It was more than a simple adjustment to a new career. It was a total change of life, giving it all over to God. Yet, doors open, and doors close; so it was with the Trail.

Sometimes we are called to serve, not once but again and again, like the refining of a precious metal.

God was not content for me to remain at the Trail, for it was only a stepping stone in this life’s journey.

Through the days of job searching, the scriptures kept reinforcing my faith. As I silently waited for God to answer prayer, I knew it was only a matter of time before His salvation would be at hand. The morning I received the scripture and message from brother Bill Neal reading, “Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.” -Psalm 34:19 and his timely word, “Your challenge is about to end,” it was clear, God was working diligently beyond what mere mortal eyes could see. That morning I prayed that if today was the day, let their be a sign, a message, anything that would confirm that mornings Word.

I prayed and patiently waited.

That same afternoon I received a phone call to be interviewed for the position of Math teacher at Watauga High School.

It was my first interview after nearly three weeks of searching.

One thing after another kept trying to derail the opportunity, but with each delay, there was the sense that God was working it out. In the end, nothing could stand in His way.

He never fails to provide for His children.

My workplace is now a room with 32 other desks, all facing mine. Every day, it is my job to educate over seventy students at Watauga High School in the fundamentals of Math. Each day I stand before over seventy young people who need more than just another adult telling them what to do; rather, they need a shining light to guide them through this difficult age. Yes, where one door closed, God had already planned another one to open. The Emergency Hire for my position was no coincidence, no happen-chance circumstance; God had a plan.

Each day before I begin, I pray that the Lord give not only myself but also all of the staff at our school, strength, guidance, and wisdom; in this, I am not alone.

Now, more than ever before, the image I present, not necessarily just the words I speak, are ever more significant. As we learn about the nuts and bolts of mathematics, I interject stories of life and lessons learned, hoping to add something much greater than just a lesson about numbers.

This is my new calling to continue to serve.

This is my new home.

Thanks be to God.

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by | October 7, 2016 · 9:18 pm

The Hand of the Lord Upon Us….

“Now, Lord, look on their threats, and grant to Your servants that with all boldness they may speak Your word,”- Acts 4:29

He told my sister and me to follow him, that there was something strange he had to show us. Wetornado made our way down into a room that faced a large rectangular shaft in the stone wall. There was no grate covering the opening, which was about shoulder height tall. The hole spanned six feet across with an aperture large enough for a good size man to squeeze through. The outer lip of the hole was lined with rough shaped stones. Their surfaces facing the interior of the hole were worn smooth as if this once was a source of water or fluid that slowly eroded the ancient surface.

Our guide explained to us that this was where onlookers could stand and safely watch the demons emerge, without fear of being pulled into the hole. There was a convenient mark on the floor where he stood.

“You don’t want to go beyond this point,” he said stretching a crooked finger toward the crack in the stone floor where the toe of his sandaled foot stopped. “Don’t step one inch closer than this,” he demanded, with a glare in his eye. That stare caught my attention. “They can’t pull you back into the hole from here. If you go past this line, then your soul becomes theirs.”

Something about his gaze felt comforting as if we had been acquainted before.

Our focus returned toward the shaft as a soft breeze brushed past my cheek. A chill filled the room, and my skin began to crawl. Something was coming; …the darkness approached.

My thought’s returned to our guide as goosebumps rose on my arm. The man’s voice sounded so familiar. My mind couldn’t let it go.

Yet, the darkness crept closer still.

Turning my gaze from the abyss back to the man pointing out the dangers, I suddenly realized the stranger, was no stranger at all.

He was our late father.

My heart leaped.

The last time we were together, I kissed him goodbye and walked out of the hospital leaving him to God’s care. We were to meet again on heaven’s shore. I wanted to rejoice and hug him in that moment, but that’s not why we were there. The euphoria was quickly replaced with that of sounds emanating from the shaft that caused the hair to stand up on the back of my neck.  Haunting screams of horror jerked my focus back to the gaping hole. There wasn’t a feeling of reunion in our meeting, but rather, a sense of warning instead. There was no time for pleasantries. Just as he had finished speaking, as if on cue, shadows begin to ebb from the orifice, like hands stretching out for someone to hold, they sought our grasp, reaching, enticing, calling us closer. My sister’s eyes widened in horror as the ghoulish images played out before us as if they were taunting us to move closer. Their macabre dance continue for only a brief time then slowly the beasts of hell slithered back into the darkness from whence they came. Their cries of anguish echoed in the hollow of the space from where they had disappeared.

We stood frozen as we listened in horror to their voices retreat.

Darkness, echoes and then silence.

Something inside me suddenly told me to go after them.

There was no sense of fear, no foreboding of danger in my being. Without hesitation, I walked over and began to climb into the opening of the tomb.

“What are you doing,” my sister screamed!

“Get him out of there,” my father called, as they both grabbed at my feet trying to stop my advance into the chamber beyond. Before they could obtain a firm hold, I was submerged into the blackness beyond. All feeling of dread had left me. It was almost as if my fear had been replaced by a rage that repelled the demonic force within the tomb. But it was more than a rage; it was if there was a hand on my soul protecting me. As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit corridor, I could sense the shadows retreating, fearful of my presence. Feeling empowered by the force within, I continued onward. The ceiling was only a couple feet from the surface that my body scooted along, which then eventually opened up into a taller hallway. Cobwebs and dust portrayed an abandoned dwelling left to decay. Looking for a way out, my eyes caught the rays of muted light passing through cracks in the boards along one wall. Pushing my way through the brittle wood, a large room opened up in front of me. Carefully, I stepped down onto what looked like a rooftop, covered only with tar paper.

“Hmm, no roofing shingles,” came the thought as I timidly walked out far enough that I could look back from where I had come. It was then the realization hit me from where I had just emerged; the old farmhouse of my paternal grandparents, Victor and Mildred Tron. It never occurred to me that there had been a room on this side of the house, yet here I stood, looking back. The black surface of the floor had no dimension. It was as if my footsteps walked upon a void that reflected no light, only absorbed it or trapped it below its surface, held prisoner for all of eternity. The groans of those trapped below caused a vibration that pulsated into the soles of my shoes, sending shivers up my spine.

“This is no normal floor,” I thought to myself, “am I standing on hell?”

“God,” I called out turning my gaze to heaven, “Why have you brought me here?”

Overhead there was a sparse rafter system, one that didn’t look strong enough to hold much of a snow, let alone a windstorm. The pieces of wood of that upper framework were pieced together in a haphazard fashion, fastened together at odd angles forming a peculiar dome shaped visage. Had I been in my right mind, I would have been fearful of the entire room’s collapse or being devoured from below by the inequities which I walked upon. Again there was still no sense of doom, no feeling of pending disaster; nothing but a feeling of confidence.

Before I could make sense of where or why I was there, my body was suddenly transported into an RV park in another place and time. Once again danger loomed as neighbors screamed pointing in the direction of the trailer where I had appeared. A massive black funnel cloud as far as my eyes could see, from one end of the horizon to the other, bore down upon us. Those who were faint-hearted were frozen with fear and couldn’t move but rather collapsed into heaps of angst and gnashing of teeth.

Panic was in the air.

Once more, there was a power within that drove the fear from me as the smoke is driven from the fire. One man who had been running from the cloud of death stopped for a moment beside me. He was bent over gasping for breath with his hands on his knees. As the color began to return to his face, he looked up at me with a puzzled face.

“Why aren’t you getting out of here mister? Don’t you know if you stay you will die?”

“No, I’m not,” I calmly replied.

“What the hell do you mean,” his face squinted in question, “can’t you see that,” his weary arm stretched out behind him as if he didn’t even want to face it.

“It’s not coming this way.”

“Like hell it’s not,” he screamed, “all the reports have it coming this way and if you can’t see that,” he now stood and turned pointing with both arms, “Then something must be wrong with you.” He shook his head in utter disbelief and slowly took off, joining the river of people that flowed past on the street next to me.

I turned to face the bleak reality of what he had feared and saw the dark cloud, yet there was still no urgency in my being.

“There is nothing to fear,” I said speaking to the treacherous, twisting serpent cloud roaring in the near distance. “You are not coming here, for He has told me so.”

As I stood watching, the cloud didn’t approach any closer, but rather, continued to swirl and pound the earth in the distance. The deafening roar shook the earth like a thundering herd of wild horses. Furniture, pieces of homes, and shreds of all manner of life spun about in the futile darkness and slowly, ever so slowly crept away, like a scolded dog that had been chastised for misbehaving.

As I watched it fade, the boldness within continued to comfort me.

When I awoke the next morning, there was a serene sense of security, a calmness of being.

That morning my scripture lesson began with the book of Ezekiel, and there before me were the words that said it all. Like Ezekiel before his vision, God placed his hand upon him, and comforted him-“ and the hand of the Lord was upon him there.”

Yes, it was perfectly clear now.

His message was pure and simple; be bold and fear not, for I am with you always.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Phil 4: 13

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