The time passes one plank after another. The labor of love seems to never end, but then in the latter’s sense, it is not labor, for the work toward the Lord is a passion to which the heart gives in wholly; unabated. One must pause and look upon what has been done to fulfill the blessing within.
Shadows were glancing through the barren limbs of the forest, chasing the sun that barely rises above the horizon. The warmth of the fire reminded us that to remove the chills upon one’s back, you must subsequently afford that portion toward the flame. As one finds a void in their spirit, they too must find from whence its vacancy can be refilled, warmed anew as by the hearth. From the depths of God’s word, those empty voids can be rejuvenated – filling the soul so that the spirit may become refreshed.
This morning, the taste of manna from heaven ever more sweeten the taste upon my soul as my eyes read through familiar texts. Like an old friend, they reach out to me and speak to me in a calming voice. Their refrain falls upon my ears like the warmth of that welcoming woodstove or the taste of that slice of fresh bread from the oven. Each, although soothing the shortcomings of the fleshly needs of this world, bemoan the spirit within. Finding God in these moments, sensing his presence through those temporal moments, can relay us into the eternal glimpses that await in our next life, should we choose in this life wisely.
Being alone, the majority of the time while working on the Spiritual Retreat has become the norm. Yesterday, however, was different. My son joined me, and we worked together – something that was not too common. Like my own solitude, our duo worked without interruption from the outside. As if we were on our own island, we toiled together regardless of what the world was mesmerizing over at the moment. There in our little neck of the Blueridge mountains, we had no Covid, there were no threats of lockdown, there was no endless noise of fear-mongering from the media, there were just us two, working in unison as God allowed. Outdoor, the creek gurgled underneath a golden sky.
For all its worth, we were none the worse for wear. Well, mostly.
There were still drawbacks that could not be avoided.
My physical body has more than once found its limitations. Pushing through the pain is one thing, but when one’s back becomes so weary that it is difficult to stand, let alone function, something has to give. You either stop and wait to recover or find a way to struggle onward. Nearly always, the answer is the latter.
Multiple times the pain had to be subdued with ibuprofen in order to push onward – the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Although there are the earthly inhibiting factors, the beauty to which the work has revealed is a testimony unto our Savior. It is through us that his hands worketh. No task has not been managed that God has not provided – albeit in strength, knowledge, or skill. All have been a confirmation of what the LORD can do through us in spite of ourselves when we are one with him. As he asked us to drink of his blood, that he would be in us, and us in him, so it is, that when we fully commit ourselves unto his lifeblood, we too will be like the bride with the bridegroom – uniting as one. “Then Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you. Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him up at the last day.”[1]
Last night, as my battered, scarred, and beleaguered hands typed these passages, there was a certain feeling of contentment that flowed. While sleep beckoned, these were just a few of the thoughts from which must be scribed so that if one looks back from the future, they will see only a small portion of what a day in the life of this person might have revealed.
So, with heavy eyes, I read over the Gospel of John, visiting my old friend one last time before I say my prayers and finally lay down to rest.
Before sleep overcame me, the last thoughts were, “If I die before I wake, may the Lord my soul to take.”
“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” – Matthew 5:16
Tonight, as I pray for all those people in my life, both within reach, and those distant, it is as if there is a never-ending list. Yet, as countless as the stars are in the sky, the Lord knows each of them by name. For each soul that finds its way onto my finite list, there are so many more that our Savior knows, and his grace emanates forth like one star shining onto the next until his list to us appears infinite. And in this manner, we are found like the newborn foal in the dewy morning grass, helpless, ambling into an unknown future. Our ship’s sails may be full, but the rudder, the part with which we steer, seems inadequate for the vessel for which we have been endowed. The greater the berth, the more we are expected to manage – yet, even in the best of times, we can be overwhelmed with the blessings upon which we have been bestowed. The cargo for which we carry is that of being someone to whom others can turn, the light which shineth forth as does the natural world, also attracts that of the spiritual. Those with darkened hearts, those with diminished souls cling to us like a life support. We become the flame to the moth, so to speak. We know deep inside this shell of humanity that we are not worthy, and if we are even more abound in our faith, we know that it is He that worketh through us whom they seek.
Night Sky – by Timothy W. Tron, 2020
On a dark night, over 2,000 years ago, the stars above played an integral part of our Messiah’s birth. As part of our Men’s Connection Bible study, this morning we watched the very well written and presented movie, “The Star of Bethlehem.”[1] As we marveled at the details with which the show’s presenter depicted his case, in the back of my mind, there was a little voice wondering about all the other brilliance and imagery to which he did not mention. While science and mathematics can depict with uncanny accuracy the actual account of how the star of Bethlehem came to be, there is another side of the story where man’s intuition can never reach – that of the un-natural, the spiritual, and the Godly. For as Jesus told the Pharisees, “How can ye believe, which receive honour one of another, and seek not the honour that cometh from God only.”[2] There in that night sky, not only was the star of Bethlehem showing the way, but there was another phenomenon taking place. As the shepherds stood with their flocks, there was, as they put it, a multitude of angels that illuminated the sky beyond their ability to describe in human terms. “And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.”[3] As those men in the field would later testify to Luke, not alone, but several eyewitnesses would attest, a luminescence far beyond that of what said star was already providing shone about them. It was so brilliant that it literally wrought their hearts with fear and trembling. We can see this again throughout scripture when man finds himself in the presence of an Almighty being, be it an Angel of the Lord or God himself. But Luke goes on to reveal how much more these shepherds were afforded that precious night. As if heaven had taken pause and the entirety of heaven ascended to earth to witness the birth of God in the flesh, the multitude of angels filled the sky. “And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven,”[4] As those lowly shepherds stook quaking in amidst their flocks, in awe of the presence of something no one before, nor anyone since had ever witnessed, they were given the message of “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.”
If you lived the rest of your life after such an event, that moment, that place in time and those words would surely never leave you. Had those ancient Jews been more mindful of the scriptures and voices of the prophets, they too would have been standing alongside those men in the fields. But alas, as God would intend it to be, their hearts would be hardened, and the image of the Almighty in the form of a helpless child, not the conquering King they had imagined would be the order for all time.
While we often find comfort in science and numerical evidence when it can back up those words that are encased within the covers of the book with the inscription, “Bible,” we must be reminded that this is only a minutia of detail to which we are afforded. The natural order and what man can fully understand are, but an infinitesimal part of all that God can do and provide. When we seek out those stories of old and find the infinite being allowing himself to become finite, the flesh, we for a moment can comprehend what he speaks. But as those Jews of old discovered, there was much more to that earthly mission than what humankind had anticipated.
There amongst those beautiful deep space nebulae from which the Hubble Space Telescope can provide to our vast array of scientific academia, we can find tiny lights that appear to be stars. They are, in fact, billions of other galaxies with billions more stars within them. There seems to be no end to what God’s creation can and will reveal. When we take the time to study the word to which we were given, the Comforter as Jesus told his disciples, we can find traces, vague footprints of angelic beings for which there is no understanding, no mathematical equation that can explain within the scope of human interpretation. It is then, when we realize the limits of our own being that someday our soul may inhabit a place we cannot begin to imagine, that we start to fathom the endless capacity of God. It is then that we understand how faith really works.
He must increase that we may decrease. And when we finally come to understand this, we will then begin to open our eyes to a new realization – we are nothing without Him.
Give thanks for all that you have, my friend, and pray for those whom you know and for those who don’t. From our little lights, we emanate out to others until we eventually become a greater light that makes all the difference in this world. So that someday, we too shall be one with the light of the world.
“For we were once darkness, but now we are light, live as children of the light.”[5]
An old cliché came to me this morning through the words of a song, “You’ll live to regret it…”
Many will look back on 2020 and realize it was more than the year of unprecedented events, but sadly for many, will become a year of regret. Then there is the introspective thought, “How many things have we passed through in this life to only live long enough to regret them?”
Meriam-Webster defines regret as the following: re·gret | \ ri-ˈgret \ 1a: to mourn the loss or death of, b: to miss very much, sorrow aroused by circumstances beyond one’s control or power to repair, an expression of distressing emotion (such as sorrow).[1]
The corner of studio’s past, when God was not the center of my life. – Chatham County Farm circa. 1999
The longer I ponder on this line, the more corollary aspects of it come into play. For it can mean more than not having appreciated someone or something; can it not? Life is a never-ending journey of choices, and with them, we often face missing an opportunity, albeit good or bad. Like a fork in the road, there is always more than one path that we may take. As the saying goes, the one less traveled is often the one that will enrich our soul all the more. I once had a phrase back in my youth when my ambitions were to pursue the lusts of the flesh, that I was the “Unluckiest, lucky man alive.” In other words, God was watching over me even when I wasn’t seeking him. As much as I tried to run from him, I soon found out there was no place to hide. My life was as the psalmist wrote, “Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.”[2]
The studio that God built – no regrets. Thanks be to God.
Time and time again, when my path should have led to utter destruction, there was another miraculous occurrence that delivered me safely out of the jaws of the lion. In those many narrow escapes of a poor choice, it was as if I could feel the prayers of my family’s spiritual leaders blanketing me when I was woefully unworthy. They would pray that those early teachings they had sown would someday blossom. Thankfully, those seeds of faith my elders had planted in me took root, and once they began to germinate, God’s plan for me began to come to fruition. But it would take many years and many knocks upon my proverbial door before my hard head would allow him in.
As Christians, is not our pathway more judicious than those who wander like ships tossed upon the sea? “Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.”[3] While we might ponder those many missed opportunities, we should not live in regret. For there was and always is a purpose in the next step we take. While it may seem as if a choice were a mistake when the longer journey reveals the road traveled, when we look back over the dawn of time, we can almost, if not always, see how that passage through which we endured was one in which there could not have been a more perfect plan provided. These are the moments, when we allow them, that magnify the essence of God. “And he shall bring forth they righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday. Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for him: fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass.“[4]
Take, for instance, just a couple of nights ago, a decision to remain in Boone and run a couple of errands before heading down the mountain cost me in time but could have cost me much more.
Why do I say this? Allow me to explain.
My own “plan,” if you will, was to leave work a little early and run while the snow was still falling. Besides the novelty of running in the snow, there was the hope that I would be able to capture images for future use in devotional postings to social media. The trails that crisscross the Moses Cone Memorial park offer a never-ending vista of God’s creation. With each changing season, so do those familiar spots where the camera’s eye catches one’s attention.
Moses Cone Manor Trail, Dec. 2020
The run was challenging in that the bitterly cold wind bit into my exposed flesh. But as is most often the case, as I continued quoting scriptures, the pain of the outer body diminished until the point it was only a mild nuisance. Thankfully, there were several good scenes from which to choose. The falling snow’s pace was merely a flurry at best by the end of the run, so it didn’t seem unwise to go ahead and stop by a local store to pick up another Christmas gift. While I was in the spirit of getting things done, I also decided to go ahead and run to Lowe’s for a couple of things on my list. While in the store, hunger began to gnaw at my insides. One who has trained long enough or worked in a physical capacity for an extended time knows the difference between a little hunger pang and one of greater magnitude, for that latter one was one that hit me while picking up those supplies. Seeing that there was a greater need than a want, I decided to go ahead and grab an early supper as well. The hot soup and sandwich hit the spot as I sat in the parking lot of Chik-Fil-A and dined alone. Outside the car, the flurries continued as the last vestiges of light faded from the sky. Street lights seemed hazy in the falling snow, but there was nothing at this point that created any sense of dread. The thermometer on the car’s display read 23 degrees.
Driving out of Boone and eventually into Blowing Rock, there was still nothing to indicate that this was nothing more than a beautiful end to a snowy day on the mountain. Christmas lights were already hung in several stores and homes. Their ambiance warming the soul within as my car drove past. Then, as the curve past the last light in Blowing Rock began to fall behind me, there ahead were the seemingly endless line of red tail-lights. An unending line of cars wrapped around the curve ahead and far below the mountain.
There would be no usual drive home that night.
Later, I would find out that a tractor-trailer had jack-knifed one of the icy curves. With it, several cars were also wrecked and maligned across the roadway. So, for the remainder of the evening, for over an hour or so, there I sat.
Looking back, my first thoughts were of regret for having stopped and run those errands. As the evening wore on, sitting there in my little car, thoughts of thanks began to percolate into my head. Earlier that morning, I had stopped for gas; the car was on full. The heater was working well, even though outside it was a frigid 23 degrees; I was warm and dry. My body had forced me to eat supper early, so I was fed. The longer I sat, the more I realized how lucky it was that my drive home was paused in the manner it was, for my fate could have been much different; either crashed or worse, injured – to the point of death.
The night following, Pastor Greer led us through the study of Romans 10 and, in so doing, mentioned the Roman Road to salvation. The term is often used to describe the scriptures in the book of Romans, which are often used to lead someone to Christ. Along this virtual road, one can find eternal salvation if they so choose to make the drive. As some choices in life afford one the ability to know the result ahead of time, and so it is when one takes this route – the Roman road. Eternal life, one in which you would inevitably be able to live long enough to see if there were any regrets, would ironically allow you also to know that there couldn’t have genuinely been any regrets, for the path you took was the one in which God would have planned.
However, if we live being regretful, is this not as bad or worse than not forgiving?
Worse yet, think of what the utmost regret might be? If you think of life in terms of eternity, then you are on the right track. In this vein of thought, one would have to say that the utmost remorse would undoubtedly be dying without choosing the gift of eternal life through Jesus Christ. This choice would culminate after one’s physical life on earth has ended only to only wake up in hell, realizing that, and eternally regretting not having believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God.
There is no going back.
For in the gospel of Luke, the account of the rich man that died and was suddenly thrust into the midst of hell paints a vivid picture of someone who realized too late that he had made the wrong choices. “There was a certain rich man, which was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day: And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, full of sores, And desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table: moreover the dogs came and licked his sores. And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham’s bosom: the rich man also died, and was buried;And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom. And he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame. But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things: but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented…Then he said, I pray thee therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my father’s house: For I have five brethren; that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment. Abraham saith unto him, They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them. And he said, Nay, father Abraham: but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent. And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.”[5]
While it may not be evident to some, the Lazarus in this story is not the same one that Jesus raised from the dead. Yet, the name “Lazarus” is appropriately used in this passage, for in the Hebrew tongue, it translates to, “God has helped.” As the beggar Lazarus suffered his earthly life, God knew his heart. Those Pharisees to whom Jesus spoke had hearts hardened like the rich man. They knew the writings of Moses, they knew the law, and they knew the prophets’ teachings, yet they could not be persuaded. And the last sentence, as in typical Godly-poetic-justice, Jesus says, “though one rose from the dead.” Here he analogizes the Lazarus I this story with the one to whom he raised from the dead. Though the beggar Lazarus had died, he was alive in eternity, as though he had risen from the dead.
Lazarus had no regrets, for his reward was everlasting life, unlike the rich man who now felt the full weight of his errors. Wanting to prevent his own family from the same fate, he begged for Abraham to send Lazarus, for him to return from the dead and go to his house to warn his brothers not to fall to the same fate. Like him, Abraham responded that they already knew the answers, but they too were hardened to the truth.
Friend, be not so consumed with your own knowledge that you miss the truth of this story. As Jesus told the Pharisees, “Search the scriptures, for in them ye think ye find eternal life. For they are they which speak of me.” In other words, the answer is in Christ. Seek him, and you will find eternal life.
Let the only regrets in your life be those of the past; whereby, you didn’t spend enough time with loved ones, or you didn’t appreciate those who prayed over you, or that you didn’t stop and pause long enough along the journey to appreciate all that God has done for you. Yes, let those regrets be of the past. Going forward, willingly receive Christ in your life and leave all your future regrets behind.
You only have one earthly life to live. Make it count.
A winding mountain road is the life I live. If living were a straight road, with nary a curve, never a hill, nor a bump what a sorrowful experience it would have been. With each twist, the unexpected arrives – some good, many challenging, and some sorrowful. From breathtaking vistas to cattle grazing in verdant green pastures, there is never a bend in the road that doesn’t reveal another blessing to be alive. All make living one of not our own doing, but in that regard, give testimony to our Creator. By the guiding hand of God, we are kept between the lines. When trials come, they mold our character, develop our patience, and gather our soul into that which becomes better for the perils through which we survived.
Much like the barren, time-worn tree that stands on an outcropping of rocks on a high mountain peak, it too tells a story of a life well-lived. The harshness of existence created a cracked and foreboding skin, that with each crevice is a wrinkle in the tale of its life. Its weathered continence exudes the wisdom within. Whether the twisting road of life or the desolate, weary tree, we are the product of the tribulations which formed us in the fire.
As the seasons change, so do those of our own. From our youth to the nearing of the end of one’s time, and all those many seasons in between, there are countless moments when we could have stopped and considered the moment for what it was. Too often, we allow that fleeting opportunity to give thanks to pass us by before we are chasing the next falling leaf from the tree above. If only we had the peace of mind to stop and cherish those brief respites. Instead, the foliage spirals down into the bed of so many other fallen leaves before it, they all form a collection of memories upon a pallet of life. Their myriad of color, the complexities of those moments in time, each connected through the thread of our being. If one were to connect these, as one might think a pathway is built, their course would intertwine, fold upon one another, and intersect into a countless number of likelihoods. An image of such would look like what scientists have concluded our own immutable DNA resembles. Memory, our collective past, intertwined like the branches of a forest, is the only lasting reward, or curse, that one can carry with them in this world, no matter your position in life. Those memories are a culmination of life’s choices to that which we have been afforded – they can be our heaven or hell.
As C.S. Lewis wrote, “Every choice reduces a little one’s freedom to choose the next time. There therefore comes a time when the creature is fully built, irrevocably attached either to God or to itself. This irrevocableness is what we call Heaven or Hell. Every conscious agent is finally committed in the long run: i.e., it rises above freedom into willed, but henceforth unalterable, union with God, or else sinks below freedom into the black fire of self-imprisonment.”[1]
From the beginning, man was allowed choices, also known as free will. It was in this context that sin came into the world, not necessarily as a choice to do evil, for there was no evil in the world at that point, but rather was as a decision to make himself equal or greater than God. In essence, it was pride that brought the fall of man, not evil. “The highway of the upright is to depart from evil: he that keepeth his way preserveth his soul. Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”[2] Satan used man’s own pride to sequester his thoughts into a path that took him to the darkness of man’s soul.
Choices led Judas Iscariot to sell his Savior’s identity for thirty pieces of silver which ultimately led to the trial, and crucifixion of Christ. Choices led David to invite Bathsheba into his bed-chamber, which led to the death of the resultant child and his sons. Choices led Moses to strike the rock in anger which led to his being excluded from being allowed to enter the Holy Land. Time and time again, we see how erred judgment on the part of man resulted in predicaments that could have been avoided had they chose wisely. Each time we allow Satan to enter into our decision making, our minds are contorted into the culpability of choosing on the side of this terrestrial being, rather than on the side of how it affects our life eternal.
As much as we have the ability to choose wrong, we have the same capability to choose right. Though our life’s journey need not be a long course of bad memories, there are hopefully more of the singular instances of hope and light that permeate through the fog of reminiscence than the former. As those thoughts allow us to build upon the past, we must realize that going forward, we have the foresight to become greater than of ourselves, again, if we choose wisely. A life eternal is in the balance. To be tied to an earthly being or to be one with a risen Savior, that guarantees life eternal – this is the only choice in this life that really matters. You can go on living as one that perceives there is “no tomorrow,” or you can start to live a life in preparation for one eternal – the choice is yours.
Some believe they are too far gone. They feel they are beyond the grasp of God’s forgiveness of sins. Many feel their sin is greater than Christ’s ability to forgive – but they couldn’t be more wrong. We serve a risen Savior that died for our sins, even before we existed so that all that come to him might be saved. It is never too late to seek Him.
While we chase after those swirling entities that entice us to forget the thankfulness and forget that we can be forgiven, we must force ourselves to take pause and know that, “God hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pastures.”[3] Like those winding country roads that passeth through the highlands of the Blueridge, we cannot know what lies ahead. The afternoon shadows pass upon the landscape, one that passes from autumn into winter. The seasons change regardless if we are ready for them to do so or not. In time, we realize our helplessness in that we cannot control all those things that in our youth we believed were within our command. The decisions which we hath made, we must now live with until our road’s end. No matter how bad they were, they can be forgiven. When you ask Christ to come into your life, your journey’s end on earth is only the beginning of the rest of your life. It is this destination that should help you decide how you will travel the remainder of the journey in time that remains.
Choose wisely, your soul’s eternal life depends on it.
As the sunrise was slowly trying to find a crease through the shroud of clouds upon the mountain, my mind was searching the scriptures for inspiration. To my left, a momentary shaft of light found its way to the earth. There, on a distant peak, among the multitude of gray skies, the golden illuminance caused the lingering fall foliage to burst forth into a breathtaking radiance. In a monotone sea of dreariness, it was as if God had created a bonfire of hope. In that instance, a brief line of scripture erupted into my mind, as if Jesus had said them himself, “What seek ye?”
Rich Mountain, Blowing Rock, NC.
So great was their meaning at that scene and moment, that I shouted out loud, “What seek ye?”
No sooner than I had released the thought from my lips, the voice echoed back across the valleys below. There was no one there to hear- nothing but the mist of the morning air, floating across the trail before me, wrapping itself between the trees, flowing into the pastures above. Like the fog, the words floated into my thoughts, until one had to ask themselves, “What is it thou truly seekest in this life?”
Images of all the possibilities wavered in my mind. What was it in the physical training that made me get up before dawn to pursue climbing a mountain? What was it in my daily work that drove me to rise above expectations? What was it that made me feel lost without starting my day with scripture? Yes, what was in all these things that were being sought? In all, the answer for me had become Colossians 3:23-24, “And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ.”
Although, there was what seemed to be a simple answer for myself. It wasn’t always the case. It took many hardships and trials in my life before the realization of what needed to change became apparent. All of those past failed paths, like the dark crevices that linger beneath the caves of the mountains, their memory never seems to fade. In my misinterpreted gains, when I felt that a work was of my own doing, when it was something that I had accomplished, there was the misbelief of it being my own doing. Back then, the goals in life were to obtain as much as possible before time ran out. I was truly lost.
An inspirational speaker, and alumnus, once visited one of my college engineering classes at the University of Florida. To us college students, he was the “Real Deal,” someone that had been in the corporate world and had succeeded. In truth, he was probably a significant donor to the department in which I attended classes. Nonetheless, he was a gifted speaker. In all of his inspiring words, the line that he said which stuck with me the most was a quote from Abraham Lincoln that he had altered to fit his persona, “Good things are left to those who wait, …which were left behind by those who hustle.” Sadly, that egotistic mindset was what drove me from that time foreword and for many years afterward. Unfortunately, with misaligned goals, one’s foundation cannot be properly created. Wealth without purpose becomes a greater burden than having nothing at all. These were the many variations of the doomed concept of mankind’s’ success that had been hammered into my head throughout the collegiate engineering studies. It would take many years of God’s presence in my life to slowly change them and to awaken me to what matters most. But before the transformation could begin, I had to realize there was something on my end that had to be done.
I had to seek him.
But no sooner had the answer to my situation had come, the thought of others around me surfaced. How did others seek Him? How were my colleagues, my friends, and those whom I knew that were still lost, how did they all seek God, or did they?
All around us, there are so many that seek what can never fulfill. From well-meaning goals and rewards to fleshly desires and momentary earthly satisfactions, there are a multitude of choices that can easily go wrong. Sadly, these ambitions and addictions are based on worldly values. While they may perceive that they are climbing the corporate ladder, or satisfying a desire within, what they are leaving behind, and worse yet, what they are not realizing, is that while these attributes provide for wealth and immediate satisfaction, their treasures and thrills are only temporary. For what they sacrifice in the gain of “success and pleasure” they lose in the grand scheme of things eternal.
Either through curiosity or from hearing someone that has planted a seed, when we begin to search for Christ, our real journey begins. John’s disciples found that out when they too sought to find out why their master had called this man that approached them, “The Lamb of God.”
“Again the next day after John stood, and two of his disciples; And looking upon Jesus as he walked, he saith, Behold the Lamb of God! And the two disciples heard him speak, and they followed Jesus. Then Jesus turned, and saw them following, and saith unto them, What seek ye?”[1]
In this memorable passage of the gospel of John, we see Jesus approaching John the next day, meaning the day following the baptism. John greets him with the same words as to when he first saw him just before the baptism. Yet, this time, he (Jesus) has come to visit his cousin, John. Yet, we must be mindful that John wouldn’t have been alone either, for he too had built up a following. As his account attests, “Ye sent unto John, and he bare witness unto the truth…He was a burning and a shining light: and ye were willing for a season to rejoice in his light.”[2] In other words, John and his disciples were having the honor of receiving Christ into their presence.
We can guess, that from John’s record and witness of Jesus, that at the moment in which he voiced his exclamation, “Behold, the lamb of God,”[3] he had already baptized the Christ. In that dramatic scene, many would witness the anointing of the Son of Man, as the only begotten son of God. They would have seen the Spirit descend from heaven like a dove and abode upon him. Then, the voice that emanated from on high spoke, and said, “This is my son, in whom I am well pleased.”[4] In that inspired crowd stood John’s disciples as well. Whether out of curiosity or reverence, two of John’s disciples heard him speak of the lamb of God, and they began to trail behind Jesus.
When Jesus turned and saw them following, his next words were pivotal – “What seek ye[5]?”
It is here that the two men could have dismissed being caught as an accident. They could have said, “Oh nothing, we were just headed this way already.” But they didn’t, they responded with the honorary phrase of “Master,” which was by interpretation, “Rabbi,” a term used only for the most respected scholars and teachers of their time. Then in true Christ manner, he answered with the most endearing reply, “Come and see.”
When we finally seek him, it is then he graciously invites us in. On that fateful day, the two disciples not only came and saw where he dwelt, but they remained with him the rest of the day, and he within them, the rest of their lives.
Like most who seek God and find him, when they receive him into their lives, they dwell with him and are forever changed. That very concept is what Paul tells us in Romans, when he says, “That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation. For the scripture saith, Whosoever believeth on him shall not be ashamed. … For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.”[6]
Jesus shared with us his answer to seeking as well. When the Pharisees persecuted Jesus and sought to kill him simply because he had healed a crippled man on the Sabbath day, he rebuked them and shared with them the concept of his ministry when he said, “I can of mine own self do nothing: as I hear, I judge: and my judgment is just; because I seek not mine own will, but the will of the Father which hath sent me.” Christ knew that God had sent him to do his work, and to finish it. In so doing, he was bearing witness of himself and to the fact that he was indeed sent by God.
He went further to show them, that as Moses had written, the answer was already before them, “Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me.”[7] In other words, if they had sought him, as the writings had foretold, and believed, then they would know he was indeed the Christ, the Savior of the world.
Unlike John’s disciples, we cannot physically dwell with Jesus. Yet, through his Grace, we can find salvation, and then when we accept Him into our lives, he dwells within us. It is then, we have sought the truth, that we finally begin to live a full and fruitful life. As the first Psalm tells us, when we delight in God’s word, we become like a tree planted by the rivers of water, bringing forth our fruit in our season. Even the most insignificant things in our lives, as the leaves on the tree, shall not diminish or wither. Whatever we do, shall prosper, as the psalmist writes.
Of course, all will not be sunshine and pretty mountain flowers. There are dark valleys between each glorious peak. We will have to walk through our own valleys in the shadow of death, but we can take comfort in knowing that we are not alone.
“Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.”[8]
Tonight, look into the mirror and ask with a heart of knowing that there is a God that loves you no matter who you are, what you’ve done, nor where you’ve come from, “What seek ye?”
In the end, what you receive will be a reward far greater than anything of this earth.
It was no surprise. The forecast had been for 100% rain for the next twenty-four hours. The pitter-patter of raindrops in the darkness on my bedroom window as I awoke confirmed what had already been known – today’s long run would be a test of faith and perseverance. All through the drive up the mountain in those predawn minutes there was ample time to ponder what one was doing out in this weather. The windshield wipers struggled to keep up with the downpour while the car fought to find traction through the countless areas of standing water on the roadway. There was no doubt that this would not be one of those morning where the butterflies flitted about through the dancing rays of sunbeams peeking over the mountain as the sun slowly rose in the morning sky.
As my car pulled into the parking lot of Moses Cone Manor Memorial Park, my suspicions were confirmed – I was either the only insane person here or the only one committed to my beliefs enough to endure this dreadful weather. Golden Sycamore and Poplar leaves covered the pavement to the point, it was nearly impossible to discern where the marked spaces to park were located. Even in the torrential downpour, there was a melancholy beauty in that gray light of dawn. Turning of the engine, the sound of raindrops on the roof of the car seemed to lessen. The storm had finally lightened up and was now a residual heavy mist – “God was surely smiling down on me,” my thoughts reflected as the car door shut behind me and I made my way down to the start of the trail. “Think of yourself as a little boy again splashing your way through the puddles,” my heart mused.
All was fine with that until the trail came to the underpass beneath the Blueridge Parkway. There before me ran a small river several inches deep that flowed beneath the stone archway above. Like a window into some distant time, I ran toward the light. Passing beneath the roadway above that would wind through countless forest of color and beauty, my path was merely to find a way up and down an ancient carriage trail – it’s peak landing upon the summit of Rich Mountain. Almost beyond the tiny river, my last footstep went up to my ankle in water as the splash fully emersed my lower body in a very awakening spray of bone, chilling coldness.
Later that same morning, unbeknownst to me, our preacher would talk about what motivates people. He used an illustration of Michael Jordan as shown in the documentary, “The Last Dance.” Jordan would find insignificant incidents in his life that others wouldn’t know to bring forth an ire in his mind that he would then use to drive me to greater heights. Likewise, the Apostle Paul used his detriments in life not to dissuade him from his ministry, but rather, to find silver linings in even the most horrific circumstances.
Likewise, before having heard the sermon that would come later, I too found inspiration in something that may have stopped some and caused them to turn around. A wet foot at the beginning of a very long run, especially up a mountain, was something less than ideal. Yet, the incident neither discouraged nor stopped my progress, but rather, gave me just the motivation I needed to push me onward. Like a cold slap in the face, it reminded me that nothing worth having in life was easy – and so I pushed onward.
Usually on this particular run, my challenge to quote scripture begins when I cross over the bridge that lies on the dam at the end of Trout Lake. However, today was anything but typical, so instead of waiting, I began working on the lines to the farthest passages that were yet to be fully burnt into my mind – those in John 5. As my mind began to weakly recall those verses, the most amazing things began to occur. Slowly, the rain began to diminish. The puddles no longer danced with reflections of precipitation. In time, the bitter cold numbness of that initial onslaught of icy water would begin to subside. The sky brightened ever so slightly and soon; the cattle were my only companions as my journey passed through their pastures along the upper reaches of Rich Mountain. What had seemed what might be one of the most dreadful morning runs in quite some time, had finally turned out to be one of a soulful rejuvenation.
The rain-soaked pastures stretch out across those upper tables of mountainside like blankets of comforting greenery. It is a time of ease for these herds. Even with the rain, it is a time when there are pastures of plenty. Soon, the season will change. Running past the grazing cattle, the aroma of their wet hides drifted into my awareness – a pungent richness only a farmer can appreciate. By then, my voice called out the beginning passages of the Gospel of John as the cows eyed me with little care. Calves would stop their nursing and move to the opposite side of momma, eyeing me with curiosity as I passed. Just then a gust of chilly wind reminded me that this was the mountains and weather was forever changing. Before long, these pathways will be covered in blankets of snow.
A young Hereford calf stood just beyond my path and the herds of my maternal grandfather’s memory returned. It had been a harsh winter and he had taken me along in the truck to check the cattle that morning. The snow was deep enough across the pastures that there wasn’t a blade of grass showing. We drove to where the cattle were gathered and soon found a calf that had not made it through the night. Evidently it was a newborn, and as is often the case, the cow had given birth during the night in the midst of the storm. It always seemed that they would calve in the worst weather, and so it was that specific morning. The frozen body of that little baby cow forever stayed with me.
Image provided by AllTrails.com
Soon, these highlands will be likewise buffeted with the harsh, cold winter winds and with them, the blankets of snow will cover the plethora of green grass that they now enjoy. But do the cattle worry? Do they stress about what is tomorrow? Even with the most severe weather, their births occur, and yes, even sometimes a death happens, but they push on through the storms of life. This reminder of my youth and of cattle was only possible because of the events that transpired to this point of this morning. Had I stopped at the underpass in the cold pool of water, these things may have never found their way into my thoughts.
Unlike previous jaunts up this mountain, this morning I was all alone. It was as if God had reserved the property just for me. In so doing, it gave me plenty of time to study His word and to reflect upon so many things in my life. While time passes, we seldom take the time to spend it giving thanks to all that our Creator had done for us in this life. Praying as I ran, the many people whom he had placed into my life came to mind. One by one, their needs were lifted, and one by one, my voice asked God to watch out for them and to help them in their times of need. As my journey soon found the downward pathways easier, the strain became less and ever so slowly, the pains began to fall away.
The words of Jesus from the Gospel of John, chapter 5, seemed to return to me when he spoke to the impotent man at the pool in Bethesda, “Wilt thou be made whole?”
As my journey in this story has shown, when we persevere, pressing on toward the mark, as Paul would say, we often find God is with us. Through it all, He reminds us that we are not alone. If we stay true to our faith, He will eventually take those things which seem insurmountable, those things which might feel like they are going to end your relationships, those things that seem like they will never heal, and he finds a way to brighten that sky and stop the rain. God can make you whole even if your entire life has been an infirmity.
Don’t give up, for He is with you always, even to the end of time.
While the past few days have been a blur, there were many poignant moments upon which to reflect. Gazing out across the fervent green pastures before the light of dawn, the cattle were making their way across the begotten landscape. It felt almost as if I was back on the farm in Chatham, there with my cattle grazing before me. As I sipped my campfire percolated coffee, there was a peace of mind that passeth all understanding. Perhaps it’s only in the blood of someone raised in the country, or perhaps, it’s just knowing pleasures of a simpler life. While this was not my land, nor my farm, it was still a homecoming in many ways. This was my first real trip back not only to a place, not only to an event but more so to a collection of souls that had been part of my life before I crossed over that great river. When that journey began, there was a song that spoke to me when the challenges seemed to be uphill, no matter where I turned. The tune was called, “Wide River to Cross,” performed by the Bluegrass group Balsam Range who hails from Canton, NC. The song goes like this,
photo by Marty Tew
“There’s a sorrow in the wind Blowing down the road I’ve been I can hear it cry while shadows steal the sun But I cannot look back now I’ve come too far to turn around And there’s still a race ahead that I must run
I’m only halfway home I’ve gotta journey on To where I’ll find the things I have lost I’ve come a long, long road Still I’ve got miles to go I’ve got a wide, wide river to cross”
Once there was a life that was not well lived. The vessel was hollow, but none could tell from the outside. It wasn’t until that day when the decision was made, to cross that great divide – to serve God in all that I do – that life began to change. While we, my family and I, eventually made it across that great divide, the journey never ends until the day we are laid into that final resting place. In essence, we are only halfway home. While that road we have traveled may seem long, we’ve still many miles to go. Yet, once you make that leap of faith, you are reminded that you’ve come too far to turn back. Each day becomes another opportunity to serve Him in all that you do. There is not a day that the scripture from Colossians does not come to mind, “And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ.”[1]
When we take that leap of faith, there is no turning back. Yet, those who have been left behind seldom know the reason, but only that someone has left the presence of their life, be it good or bad. Meanwhile, life goes on. The clock ticks, the wrinkles grow like furrows in the cornrow as the setting sun casts its shadows. One by one, the soldier’s fall – Randy Shumaker, Dave Murph, and so many more. Yet, these two were special, especially on this return trip to the Denton Bluegrass Festival. God had placed them in my life for a reason. We had met through our shared experiences of camping at Denton. Randy’s fellow band members and their families, along with other campers on that hill by the cow pasture, became my extended family. He was one of the founding members of the Second Chance Bluegrass Band, was always there, first thing in the morning regardless of how bad his cancer had progressed, and would say to me, “Great is the day the Lord hath made.” The first time he said it to me, I could only smile. At the time, I had only heard the scripture quoted, but didn’t know it well enough to respond to the pause he had purposefully extended on my behalf. Later, I would come to welcome his pre-dawn greetings with a, “Let us be glad and rejoice in it,” reply.
David Murph, the founder and former member of The Gospel Plowboys, was with me through the crossing of that river. He became like my lighthouse to the incoming ship. He assured me that God was using me in a mighty way. In their final days, both men impressed upon those whom they left behind a sense of urgency and a clear understanding of what it looks like to serve the Lord to the end. Both men passed too early for our earthly understanding, but are now with Jesus in that far brighter land. Each of my dear friends are healed and waiting for the day we can walk along God’s golden shores together, laughing and singing as in days of old. God had allowed them a time and place for which the seeds had been planted for many more. From a distance, we hear of their passing, but from that distant home, we can only know that they are waiting for us for that ultimate day of rejoicing.
My time in Denton this past weekend was not without quiet moments. Though the bed be weary, there was a bequeathing of the solstice in the sounds of raindrops falling upon the tarp above my tent. Warm and dry, the night passed into slumber as strains of stringed music wafted across the hollar. As campers hunkered down under canopies from the formidable precipitation, it failed to dampen their spirits. From one hilltop to the next, like waves of promise buoyed upon the breezes of jubilant voices soothed the weary soul. Like sunshine breaking through the storm, there was a rekindling of a consciousness of life. Like the traveler returning from a long, extended journey, my welcome home had been more abundantly received than ever imagined. It was heart-warming, and impactful at the same time, as one after another of my long-lost friends greeted me like a brother. Like, true friends, we picked up where we left off as if there had never been a separation in time. Some had only heard of my return and stopped by to see if it were so. Like a ghostly figure, we too are only a vapor in the midst of time. So with respect to the admiration of one another, there were some things left unsaid – those that had parted this world for the next, for one, were those often silent moments where words had no place. Randy’s daughter, Jessica, stopped by during one of our jam sessions and sought to say hello. There was so much that I wanted to ask and say to her, but at the moment it didn’t seem right. Instead, as she spoke briefly about her life, my thoughts returned to when I could hear her singing along with her daddy, Randy, at those late-night jam sessions. Later, I regretted not stopping and pulling her aside and just taking the time to sit and dwell in the moment. While she said at one point, “I have never missed a festival for the past 14 years, and I’m not going to start now.” In that defiant voice, there was the sound of her father’s tone ringing true. When she said that, my mind could hear Randy say the same thing, and emotion welled up in my throat. Quietly, I choked back what would have sounded contrite in comparison. Too soon, she would move on, but the memory she had invoked would tarry like the sweet aroma of a freshly baked apple pie sitting on the window sill cooling.
Here and there little children would be riding their bicycles past the campsites and the memories of my own children, and those of my friends would return. Their happy, garish voices would echo back in time. Their joy came not like ours but just living in the freedom of the moment, riding on their own up to the country store to buy another soda and slice of hoop-cheese, or wandering down to the pond to go fishing. The safety of the festival’s confines provided them an opportunity to step back into another time, akin to our own. To grow up in a sleepy little town, like New Harmony, where our only limitations were how many bottles you could collect in order to buy a bag of candy from the five-and-dime. Our energy seemed boundless. We never stopped. We were either running in play across fertile green pastures or riding a bicycle around our little village from sun up to sundown. When the evening baths were complete, there was no sleeplessness. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were waking up to a new day.
As the gray light of dawn found its way into the corners of my tent, the raindrops could not silence the lowing of the cattle. Some had stopped their music only a short while before. Many would not rise until long after the sun’s arc had reached midday. It was this time of day, the predawn, that made the recollections of previous festivals drift back into one’s mind. Like Randy’s early morning greetings, there were other familiar sounds, but less obvious. Intently, if one listened, the coffee grumbling at the heat from the fire could be heard, shortly before the burp of percolation began. The crackling fire, like the last vestiges of the whippoorwill, united with the sounds of water still dripping from the trees. Here and there another acorn would fall from the many oak trees that shaded our camping site. There were no more sounds of singing or instruments being played – this was the morning after. Like that return across the river, once you have been to the other side, there is an appreciation for all things now.
While you will never be the same, there is a certain contentment in seeing or hearing how some things will never change; albeit, some may be less industrious than others. While our instruments of choice are the same used by our ancestors’ centuries before, our campsites are lined with tents and RV’s which would have made the cover of Popular Science at one time. Yet, there are still the fires to warm the chilly hands and feet when the darkness of night falls.
It is there, in that moment of time, where the past meets the present; when we are afforded the opportunity to return to a place we once knew, to show others that it can be done – to wade across that wide river and find that far distant shore. There is an inspiration of choice, to which each person is offered. It is when we make that journey, we are changed, and when we are allowed to return, as Moses came down from the Mount, the radiance of his being was too great for those to see – likewise, we are changed. Our light can become that for all to see.
As Delmar, in the movie “Oh Brother Where Art Thou,” waded back from his Baptism to tell the others, “Step into the water boys, there’s plenty of salvation to be had for all.” Let your sins be washed away, and someday, you too can reach that far distant shore. There weren’t just two men who lived their lives serving until the bitter end, but three. Jesus led the way and was an example to all – by the blood of Christ, we are all washed clean of our sins. Randy and Dave would have wanted you to know that this was their calling. Someday, it maybe yours too.
As the campfire fades, the time slips away and soon, it is time to say goodbye once more. But this time, unlike before, it is, “until we meet again.” Whether here on this earth, or on God’s golden shore, we shall meet again, and what a day of rejoicing it will be.
The evening sky was muted. A serenity had bequeathed the mountainside below the Cone Manor, a living museum that sits above Blowing Rock, NC., just off the Blueridge Parkway. After having just finished my run, it was the cool-down time. Dusk had fallen, and the last vestiges of the golden rays of sunlight had departed from the distant peaks. Now, the gray sullenness that precedes the nightfall enveloped the stately grounds. Gone were all of the holiday weekend visitors. In their vacuum, a welcome stillness permeated the air.
From where I stood on the front porch steps overlooking the vast forest, falling away unto the breath of the shimmering waters of the lake, a calm overtook me. It was as if the place were all my own.
In my mind, my thoughts wandered back to when the house had been occupied by its original inhabitants. Thinking unto myself as if I were one of them, “How might the evening unfold?” Supper now complete, one was free to walk out upon the front porch and purview one’s holdings. Inside, the muffled sounds of the kitchen staff clearing away the table could be heard. Outside, the calls of the night begin to waft upon the gentle breeze – whippoorwills and nightingales begin their evening symphonies.
It is then, in the moment, that you realize the difference between then and now.
There is no T.V. blaring the eternal, never ceasing sensationalized news story. There is no rampant shrill of amplified cacophony coming from various entertainment devices. There are no people with heads bent in apparent submissive prayer – their blue-lit faces reflecting the stolid control as their eyes glaze over from countless hours of overuse.
No, there is nothing here now but a sense of serenity.
Before all this, there was much more.
An evening stroll after dinner allowed for reflection of the day’s work. There, floating upon the mountain air, were the soft, gentle sounds of a piano. The melody of “Ada Plays – from Cold Mountain”[1] toils in my head – a simpler time, a gentler time. Later, as the light fails from the sky, one shall retire inside. There, sheltered from the chilly night air, a good book from the personal library might carry one until the bedtime hours approach. Perhaps a letter to a distant acquaintance is necessary, so you sit at your desk, under the flickering light of lamp or candle, and begin scribing pen to paper. You pause between dips of your pen’s head into the inkwell and reflect upon the words freshly poured out onto the page. The sullenness of time grips your heart like the dark reaches of the night, which fast approaches.
Outside your window, a hoot owl calls, and you are reminded of a carriage ride up to the top of Flat Top where you and this friend, to whom you now write, watched God paint another beautiful sunset. Your concentration is broken when the sweet, delectable smells of something baking in the kitchen reaches you. Suddenly, your stomach answers as a momentary frill of joy leaps as if to answer. Later, as you sip warm milk as your palette is being sated by the fresh, hot apple pie, you peruse through scriptures. The late evening snack just before bed refreshes your spirit as the words of the Holy Spirit begin to speak to you. The two combine in your soul, and for a moment, there is nothing in this world that could make you feel any closer to heaven. A warmth envelopes your being as if the hand of God has wrapped around you. The Psalmist words come to mind, “He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.” The hoot owl calls once more as if to confirm those seemingly random thoughts. For a moment, you ponder the future and what it might hold for you and your family. As you lay your fork down beside the remaining crumbs on the fine china dessert plate, your eyes grow weary, and you momentarily nod off.
In the fog of a future time, you can see a world in turmoil. It is as if there is no peace in that far distant place. It is as if mankind has given in to all the lusts of the flesh. Your heart quickens, and God speaks to you, “But as for them whose heart walketh after the heart of their detestable things and their abominations, I will recompense their way upon their own heads, saith the Lord God.”
You awaken from the dream with a start. So troubled are you by the vision that you seek to find comfort before trying to resign to sleep for fear of where your thoughts may continue. Opening the book of Ezekiel, you find the rest of the scripture, “And I will give them one heart, and I will put a new spirit within you; and I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh: That they may walk in my statutes, and keep mine ordinances, and do them: and they shall be my people, and I will be their God.”[2] Your heart is calmed, and you close the well-worn pages of the Bible, retiring to your bed-chamber.
Just before falling asleep, you think to yourself, “How could anyone turn away from the Lord so much so that they would become detestable in their own abominations to the point that God would pour out his wrath upon them?” The white linen drapes gently move from the cold night’s air wafting through your open window. You pull the feather comforter up to your chin and exhale a contemplative, but comforting sigh. The warmth of the bedsheets warding off the crisp coolness of the coming fall reminds you of God’s love. “How much greater is He than we shall ever know,” are the last thoughts you whisper to yourself. Eyes heavy with sleep send you off, and you become one with a peaceful eternity.
While we may not live in a time where we can walk away from the bitter influences of mankind’s own self-demising attributes, be they through media, electronics, or the immediate world in which he lives, we can always seek shelter from the storm where we have always been able to go – to God. Seek out the simpler ways in life, and find time to turn off all that noise.
“And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice. And it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering in of the cave. And, behold, there came a voice unto him,…”[3]
The Cone Manor became the backdrop for a peaceful evening that I had not anticipated, yet was a welcome respite from recent times. Too often, we fail to stop and pause in this busy life. It is when we stop and wait for the Lord that we are most often blessed beyond measure.
Yesterday evening, I felt a calling, a still small voice, if you will, to go back up to that porch from whence this tale began and take a picture to go along with the story. The storms had passed, and there was the chance that I might be afforded an unforgettable scene from which to draw. Upon my arrival, lo, there on the porch, I found a young man scribing in a journal next to an open bible. He was seated in a foldable camp chair he had brought along. The Park Service had removed all the rocking chairs from the porch because of COVID. Curious, I asked as to what he was reading. He responded, ‘the Bible.”
“What book and chapter, I asked further?”
“The gospel of Luke,” he replied hesitantly.
“A great book indeed,” and from there, a conversation began. I soon learned that the young man was searching for answers. His faith journey had hit a point where he knew not which way to turn. It was then, I realized why the voice had said to come. Retrieving a camp chair of my own from the car and a snack, we spent the remainder of the evening until dark, sitting there on that antiquated porch. It was as if the previous tale had come to life. The color slowly faded from the sky as clouds waltzed past us, following the contour of the valleys below. There, two men, previously total strangers, became brothers through a shared faith. Questions were asked, and questions were answered. Like the Apostles to their own Disciples, the passing of one’s knowledge of God’s word onto the next generation transpired in a place fitting for its reception.
It was a blessing far more generous than one might envision on an evening such as this.
No matter the noise around you, seek Him, and he will find you.
Walk away into a place where that still small voice can find you once again.
Dawn
had just awakened in the mountains. Walking down the forest’s path, I paused
but for a moment. Turning around, I peered into the darkness broken by shafts
of light filtering through the canopy above. A sullen mist hung close to the
ground. My breath, visibly seen, became one with the morning dew which clung to
the ferns that bountifully lay along the pathway from which I had come. As my
eyes followed the trail from the light into the depths of darkness beyond,
there was so much to reflect upon.
A
couple days ago, I met a young man who went by the name Wallace. It was after
the culmination of a tour that I had led at the Trail of Faith that we had time
to sit down while breaking bread together. Wallace had been mostly silent
during the course of the tour. But now, pulled aside from the crowd, he began
to open up and share. Wallace leaned in toward me and asked that I pray for
him. “What shall I pray for,” I questioned.
“I
want to come closer to God. I can’t get enough of Him,” he said with a grimace.
“I want to go to that next level of faith,” Wallace pleaded in all sincerity.
He had the look in his eyes of someone that sought after something of which
they could not find. As his question settled in my mind like the dust on a
gravel road, I thought of how each of us, at least those who are believers,
yearn for the same thing. Wallace’s eagerness seemed to paint him as if he were
a new believer, someone who had not yet realized that the journey is not a
sprint but rather a marathon. “Sanctification lasts a lifetime,” I told him.
And I then went to great lengths to comfort his worries, in that he wasn’t
alone: With each new day, a believer awakens to the creation of God, becoming
more aware of God’s handiwork and able to hear his voice through the written
word. With each new day, our mind is opened a little more to the understanding
of the veritas (truth). “No one comes to the father but through me, I am the
way, the truth, and the light,” Jesus would tell his disciples. As I paused to
allow the words to sink in, he exclaimed, “Man, you are so cool.”
“No,
no, please, no,” I said shaking my head. “It’s God speaking through me that you
are hearing.”
It
was then the scripture from John 1 came to mind, as I shared with this young
man who sought after God with a passion I had not seen in a long, long time.
“When Jesus saw
Nathanael approaching, he said of him, “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”
“How do you know
me?” Nathanael asked.
Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were still under the
fig tree before Philip called you.”
Then Nathanael
declared, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel.”
Jesus said, “You believebecause I told you
I saw you under the fig tree. You will see greater things than that.” He then added, “Very truly I tell you,youwill see ‘heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on’the Son of Man.”[1]
The thoughts of
Wallace were with me the next day as I climbed the trail to the top of Rough
Ridge. Again, the question returned, “How do we get closer to God?” The
rocky crags cut deep into my heart, leaving nothing untouched. From up there,
the world below seemed so distant, nothing to fear. Sitting on the edge of the
earth, the thoughts roll across one’s mind like the clouds across the broad
landscape below.
As I stood in front
of the washing machine the other night waiting for the spin cycle to end, the
time showed four minutes remaining. Then, for some unknown reason, the question
arose in my head, “What if you only had four minutes left in your life. What
would you think of? What would your final thoughts be about?” I closed my
eyes and lifted my head toward heaven and waited. Instantly I was taken back to
that old run-down farm house on the edge of New Harmony, Indiana. There, my
paternal grandparents had carved out an existence in a life that had been
anything but easy. My view was from within the kitchen seated at the head of
the table. There on that worn formica countertop my grandparents had seen all
manner of life pass. From the earliest times I could remember my grandpa Tron
seated in the position of admiration, the head of the table. He was our
patriarch. Grandma sat to at his right hand. When grandpa passed, she would
move to his seat. It was there in my mind that my journey of what my last four
minutes of life began.
“You’ve got to
be kidding me,” I thought to myself, “The last four minutes and I’m
stuck in the old kitchen,” as I chuckled silently. But as I sat there, a
feeling of reverence washed over me, calming my anticipation. Time slowed. A
flood of memories of a lifetime began to pass before me. In those moments, my
grandmother’s soft-spoken manner again, and again, warmed my heart. As she
spoke, the words she said emanated from where she lived, in God’s word. It was
then I realized why it was here my journey began. The words from Peter told of who
she was to our family and why my story could not be told without her as its
beginning, “Feed the flock of God
which is among you, taking the oversight thereof, not by constraint, but
willingly; not for filthy lucre, but of a ready mind; Neither
as being lords over God’s heritage, but being examples to the flock. And when
the chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth
not away.”[2]
Before I could
finish that thought, I was whisked away and was now standing at the top of Sled
Hill, the highest point anyone could find in our flat landscape of southern
Indiana. Geologists say that at one time, glaciers pushed the earth ahead of
them as they grew into North America. When they retreated, the soil that they
left behind became the hills and hollars of exploration of my youth. Those
rolling hills, covered in hardwood forests, bordered the Wabash River, creating
a utopia for the weary. The rest of the state had been bulldozed flat by those
massive goliaths of their time. So, as I stood on this highest vantage point
around, my eyes beheld once more the view of our little village from above.
Below me, the rooftops and spires of the church’s reached above the trees that
lined the streets beyond our little farmhouse that was home. It was then another
feeling came over me, one that I had not remembered since the first time my
eyes rested upon that scene – The feeling of standing on a mountain struck a
chord within my child’s mind. It was as if a light had been turned on. My
destiny began at that moment. Little did I know that a calling to return to our
ancestry would be driven by the desire to reach for the mountains. None of us
knew at that time, but deep within my soul, there was a beckoning to return to
a place that I didn’t even know. Even though there overlooking New Harmony, I
was barely above the tree-line, the words to the song, “Nearer My God to Thee,”
never resonated more.
Likewise, when we
accept Christ into our lives, an awakening, a light is turned on and suddenly
we find ourselves longing for a home we have never seen – a place where we can spend eternity in the
beautiful, blessed arms of our Savior. When we become Christians, it is then we
realize this earth is not our home. We are only passing through.
The last four
minutes slowly washed away into a flight like the raptors who soar above in the
azure blue skies over those granite peaks. Time, like the tiny rivulets of
water that trickle down the pathway after the summer showers, passes without
hesitation. We cannot stop it, for if we try, it only dams up into a pool from
which we can peer within. Our reflections are all that we see. Letting go, the
fluidness continues on as it had before we paused its journey. Onward down the
mountain it falls, joining tiny stream after another until they become greater
torrents of fluidness. Like the many lives of others, we have met, our
experiences becoming one.
The flight
continued onward and upward until there was no more ceiling, only heaven above.
Time had expired,
but life had not. Once we pass from this world to the next, be it in four
minutes, or be it four decades, we will realize that all that we did in this
life was a witness to our faith. Whether we realize it or not our journey was
seen by those who watched, even when we knew not. If we lived according to God’s
word, our life would have been an example, a wonderful testimony, which
hopefully would have led another soul to Christ. How great the scene when, “the chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown
of glory that fadeth not away.”
Like a new believer, may we seek to
draw closer to God every day. To do so, we must not just read the Word, we must
become one with it. When we are saved, we leave our old self behind becoming a
new person. In the vacuum of the old self departing, we must fill the empty
space with God. To become absorbed with the Bible’s knowledge is one thing, but
by taking it to heart, we receive its blessing, and with it the Comforter, the
Holy Spirit.
The journey of faith, once we accept
Him into our life, takes a lifetime. A diamond is not formed from a lump of
coal in a day.
Yet, when we have run the race, and
fought the good fight, not yielding to temptations of this world and pressing
always toward the mark, we shall have finally been the light to those around
us. It is then we might expect to hear
those fateful words, “Well done, good and faithful son, well done.”
“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season
we shall reap, if we faint not.” – Galatians 6:9
This morning I awoke but felt as if there was no purpose in
escaping the comfort of the warm covers. When my feet finally hit the chilly
floor, my body felt as if it needed another night’s sleep. A weariness of the spirit
seemed to weigh me down.
Low Water Bridge, Collettsville, NC. April 14, 2020
Yesterday’s work had been one grueling mental challenge that
lasted the entire day, from before sunup to after sundown. It sometimes
surprises me how tiring the mind can become, and in so doing, bring the body
down with it. In these times of uncertainty and struggle, many are facing the
same challenge, feeling their minds reaching a certain level of strain that
begins to seem as if their entire world is starting to unwind. Combine that with
that the fact that they are held captive in their own homes with people, whom many
will call family, that are now beginning to weigh on their patience. Meanwhile,
they struggle to find the new norm when attempting to keep the same level of
workload with which their jobs demand, working remotely.
For some, the pressure has become more than they can bear.
Yet, in my struggles, there I was once again, striving to do
it all on my own. We sometimes push ourselves beyond what we are capable of,
both physically and mentally. As I was driving back from the office, having
made one of my bi-weekly “Essential Needs” run, my body battled to remain awake.
The intellectual demand had literally worn me out. In that solitude, driving
down the beautiful mountainside on a sunny April day, it occurred to me the
error of my ways. Like those awful storms that had awakened me at 3:00 AM, there
was now no sign of them. The five inches of rain that had fallen on the
mountain had all but vanished. Yet, when something falls, there is always a
price to pay. Down the mountain, in our foothill village of Collettsville, the
price was waiting to be paid. When we mess up in life, we must always learn to
face the consequences, no matter how hard they are to look upon.
Once again, in my unintentional arrogance, the “I,”
had tried to solve the problem alone. Had not the previous summer’s lessons
been learned? Was I still ignorant of how God was with me, but it was up to me
to ask for his help and guidance? Again, my mind reflected back to those times
before of calling upon His name, and how each time, there was an answer. The
next morning, again before starting, I prayed for God to forgive me for my
previous day’s arrogance, and to give me strength, guidance, and wisdom. I then
vowed to never again forget to seek Him in all that I do. To make sure, I
pulled up Romans 12:2-3 to help me keep focus, “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. For I say, through the grace given unto me, to every man that is among
you, not to 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.”
Within an hour of starting that morning, the problem had
been solved.
There is no better feeling of satisfaction than to know God
is with you. The sense of accomplishment on our own is one thing, but to know something
happened because of God working in your life is an entirely new level of triumph.
The song, “Victory in Jesus,” comes to mind, and says it
best.
I heard about His healing,
Of His cleansing pow’r revealing.
How He made the lame to walk again
And caused the blind to see;
And then I cried, “Dear Jesus,
Come and heal my broken spirit,”
And somehow Jesus came and bro’t
To me the victory.
Chorus
O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.[1]
Later, I took a walk along the river. The low-water bridge
across the John’s River that is my route into Collettsville had been inundated
by yesterday’s flash flood. Piled on top of the bridge chest-high in the storm’s
wake was all manner of wood, debris, and full-grown trees. Below, in the shadow
of the bridge, the water now ran full-throated, clouded and murky from the deluge.
Continuing onward, with my walking stick in hand, I carefully climbed to the
top of the massive heap of rubble. My mind flashed back to the previous day’s
struggle and how the tabs along the top of my page were like those countless
limbs and trees now underfoot. One-by-one, they were caught in the fight to
flow onward, until they created the gigantic roadblock. Had my struggle continued
without stopping and regrouping, and finally seeking God’s divine intervention,
I would have never solved the crisis. My attempt to unravel the challenge would
have only ended like the massive pile of debris upon which I stood, at an
impasse with no way around it.
Thankfully, the words find purpose, “be ye transformed by
the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable,
and perfect, will of God.” Yes, God doesn’t want our lives to wind up like
a useless pile of trash. When we seek him, our lives become filled with a
purpose, an intentional reason for being. When we acknowledge that He has paid
the price for our sins and that we are redeemed by his blood, we can afford to be
plunged beneath the cleansing flood and come up victors.
Yes, there’s victory in Jesus.
Try never to forget, you are not alone.
Seek Him with all your heart and knock and the door shall be
opened.
Leave the “I,” behind, and learn to lean upon the
everlasting.
