“Does the mother turkey think about the time she spent on the nest, preparing to hatch her brood?” This morning, the thought came to me as I watched a hen and her hatchlings move through the undergrowth of the nearby forest. Sitting on the porch of the Spiritual Retreat, the memory from three years ago popped up on my social media feed. As humans, we have the capacity to look back and reflect. Sometimes, we are made aware of how far we’ve come, both physically and spiritually. But, more often than not, we are painfully reminded of how far we have to go.
As the picture revealed, the first five or so rows of cinder blocks of the building that was to become the spiritual retreat were just starting. Yet, like that building, my development into how God was to use me in the next few years of my life was just beginning. Although it was just a few rows of blocks, it was a far cry from where my family and I had started our journey. You see, when you make that choice in life to finally quit beating around the bush and choose to finally surrender all to God, it becomes a lot more complicated when you have a family. As the leader, whatever your choices are in life will eventually, if not immediately, affect the ones you love. So, when you decide to give it all in and follow Him – go wherever do whatever He says; your family is right there with you every step of the way.
So, even before the first bag of concrete was poured, before the first tree was cut down to make a place for one to find themselves closer to God, I made a vow – that this project would be for God. It was a personal commitment that each step of the way, my actions, my thoughts, everything that went into creating this building would be of God and with God.
To understand such a vow, one must realize how far we had already come. The verse, “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new,”[1] had become part of the new me. Something else that I strove to maintain in the forethought as the real work began was this verse from Proverbs, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” Once God took the reins, it was as if the roller coaster ride had just begun. From moving an entire farm, moving our entire household belongings not just once, but twice, to starting an entirely new career, not once but three times in less than a year and a half – to say it was mind-boggling would be an understatement – it was numbing. Through each step, through every valley, there was always another mountain to climb. As Moses was tested through the desert, we were tempered like the steel he wanted us to become. Through it all, we found that alone we were nothing, but with God, all things were literally possible.
As first mentioned, sometimes we look back and see we are at the same place we were years ago. Although this is not always bad, it can also be disconcerting. Stuck in a proverbial rut, trying to change things on our own, we feel like we are on board the grand ship Titanic. To turn the massive vessel around before we crash headlong into the iceberg, we need more than the tiny rudder which corrects the enormous boat ever so slightly. We need more than a rudder. We need an entirely new vessel. Seeing how we can feel trapped, some give up and go on, living the life they think they have been dealt, not realizing that there is something more magnificent, if only we awaken to what God can do for us. For when we truly give it all to God, we find, not because we give it all to him to expect wealth, fame, or fortune – no, quite the opposite. For it is then, when we absolutely commit our lives to serve, it is then the real challenges begin.
It was a very difficult and painful decision to not only leave behind years of sweat and toil but also a lifetime of friends who had come to be part of our extended family. Some of my co-workers, folks that I had known from my beginning at the company to which I had devoted my life’s work, must have wondered if I had finally cracked under the stress of the job? Others must have thought that I had lost my mind. If only they knew. In a sense, it was true. I had been changed. My natural mind was replaced with one mindful of the Lord and how it was to fully give it all to Him – every-thing, yes all!
Some of those friends and neighbors who had known us for years had to wonder in amazement as they saw us leave behind the farm we had carved out of the forest. We literally began a dream from scratch. It was not easy. There were the multitude of memories created; watching my son catch his first fish, seeing my daughter ride her pony at full speed up the road, to those quiet evenings rocking together in the front porch swing. Yes, like that mother turkey with her brood following closely behind, when we are family, we don’t just do anything alone. To make a life change to serve God requires more than your own trust in the Lord, it requires the whole family to follow.
With eyes open, we can see anew. We are changed, and the focus in our lives shifts to not just of things of this world, but the preparation for life eternal through the gift of life given to us because of God’s only Son. When we realize that what time we have left here on this earth has a purpose, if only we awaken to that task. It is then, when we come to the realization we are God’s creation, here to honor and serve Him in everything we do – it is then that the perspective of life changes.
So as the trees were hauled to the sawmill to be cut up to be used in the building, as the dirt was moved to pour the footings, it was quite literally as if God was there watching and helping each step of the way. The tiny abode in the woods next to my home where one could go and commune with God was to become a place where anyone could come and be alone with the Lord. Being separate, in silence, and surrounded by God’s creation – makes a difference. Jesus often retreated into the wilderness, himself alone, to find solitude from the crowds where he could spend time alone with his Father.
So, here I sit this morning, a nice cup of coffee in hand, the stillness of the forest all around me as the mother turkey takes her brood deeper into the safety of the deep woods. She may not think of her past, but I’m thankful that God has allowed me to look back and give thanks for all that he has done and is doing in my life. Although there are miles to go, a never-ending attempt to find Sanctification, there is the comfort in knowing that He is with us each step of the way. It is up to us to ask, seek, and ye shall find, as the verse tells us.
Friend, take a moment and look back in your life and see if where you are, today is where you really want to be? Is this where God is leading you, or have you given up? It is never too late to seek Him. But, once you make that choice, be prepared for your world to change in ways you would never have imagined. It’s the most extraordinary journey of all.
Screams of the dying fall upon deaf ears until one begins to wonder if all sanctity of life has been lost. These are the thoughts in my head of those that suffer from the disease that permeates our world. One can only sit and wonder what their final moments of time feel like as the soul within extinguishes from this world. The feeling is that of being held captive within a body that is fighting for its life. Hours pass like clouds rolling through a thunderstorm, each heavy with the pressure of the coming torment. One after another, thoughts of where this is going tend to flash like bolts of distant lightning – threatening but not close enough to scare.
Tonight, there are more stories of fear, death, and evil working its way into our society, until a friend of mine said, “The news hurts.”
photo FoxNews: Beirut, Lebanon
We’ve had torrential rain each day. It is as if we are living in a tropical rainforest. The forest and fauna drink it in, like a drunken sailor of old, notwithstanding having to report to duty, washing away the pain of knowing anguish of deadly seas. One tries to focus on what makes life worth living. Some have nowhere to turn – yet, there is a well of hope for which most forget in troubled times; the life-giving water that quenches all thirst – the Holy Scriptures. You can hear it in their voices – the despair. The whispers of calamity that rip across the crests of raging seas, tell them they are doomed.
Last night, as another thunderhead rolled through the valley, I sat on the porch listening to the roar of the water as it fell from the sky. The streams were no longer cute little trickles of water. They had turned into angry torrents, bursting from their timid banks, engulfing everything in their path. The limbs of the trees, heavy with foliage, groaned under the weight of the flood from above. The air was like a mighty wave, washing over the deck of the ship, pulsating and mad with fury. Here and there, bolts of electricity shot to the ground as the earth erupted in moans of travail.
It was as if the earth had joined in man’s anguish.
Tonight, here in the Retreat, my little ship in the sea of life, there is still the echoes of the stream, still swollen, like red-eyes after a weary ordeal that one has escaped. There are brushes of clouds in the setting sky, some pink, some pale orange, all bequeathing a surrealness to the sullen mood. For every star in the night sky, there is a soul that has been undone. There are too many to count. Feverish frivolities are all that some have found in this life. Their zeal for pleasures has only accounted for an emptiness that now supplies nothing more than deep, hollow caverns of no end. They cling to anything that allows them to remove their pity – even to the point of pursuing another to deprive them of their momentary joy – covering that blue sky with the stain of hate and dread.
We must rise above that which seeks to pull us under.
When Jesus told Peter to come out of the boat, he knew that alone Peter was not capable. Alone, we are nothing. With God, all things are possible. As Peter hesitated, he knew in the natural realm of this world, he could not walk on water, but yet, there before him stood Christ, clearly upon the fluid sea that floated the boat from where he stood. To confirm his fears, he needed Jesus to command him to walk upon the water. “Jesus said to them, “Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.”
And Peter answered him and said, “Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.”
And he said, “Come.” And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus.”[1]
Alone, we cannot survive in this world of evil. Christ knows our every weakness. If we wait for him to tell us to come to him, we are admitting our frailty of belief. Just as Peter found that once he began, he soon was buffeted by the storm around him. The same beleaguered typhoon we endure each day as we are buffeted on all sides by every form of media, device, laws, societal shame – there is no escape. Is it any wonder we are easily distracted – it’s all part of Satan’s plan.
And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to Jesus. “But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, “Lord, save me.”
And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him…”[2]
They say the darkest hour is just before dawn. It seems that we are all waking up before dawn in these perilous times. Although the predawn hours are for many the hardest, we must take comfort in knowing that there will be another day. Remember, Jesus didn’t let Peter drown.
“And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him…”
He is there for you, no matter how difficult the circumstance you face. As the world seems to consume you until it hurts to even hear the news, like the wind and waves becoming boisterous to the point you feel you are going to go under, remember he is waiting for you. All you have to do is ask.
All it takes are three simple words, “Lord save me.”
He is there to catch you before you perish beneath the waves.
“God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, so that whosoever believeth in him, shall not perish, but have everlasting life.”[3]
We must rise above that which seeks to pull us under, yes, you are not alone.
Seek Him with all your might…it is not too late. His hand is outstretched and waiting…
It becomes obvious, as my mind reflects on what to write
about this morning, that I have unintentionally surrounded myself in the
comfort of rocky, and coarse elements from nature. Sitting in the Retreat and
listening to the birds of the morning, my eye wanders to the things that are
near. From the roughhewn lumber sawn at the local sawmill to the river rock
that encompasses the fireplace in the Retreat, there is a sense of “raw” earth
which exudes from this place. The trees were harvested from where the building
now sits and were masterfully sawed by Tony Moretz. The rocks were provided by
the Gragg family’s section of the John’s River. Through all the harvesting and
collection, there was the journey of life and interaction with those that
helped to obtain the resources to make it all possible. Each one a story of
their own. While the building is not the polished brass or pure, waxed floors
of the highest cathedrals, the Retreat is a place of humble submission. In my
heart, I like to think that it’s a place not far removed from God’s creation.
Here, in this forest abode, there is a deeper connection with the One above,
less of the man-made interferences we so often seek. It is in this vein that this
story begins to unfold.
The scripture from Matthew struck a chord with me earlier
this week, “He causes his sun to rise on the evil
and the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust.”
A long time ago, in the other life, we were
walking through an antique store in Cameron, NC. I overheard some folks cutting
up and enjoying one another’s fellowship when they mentioned the scripture from
Matthew. It had been a time during a lengthy drought. My pastures were dying
and the cattle were beginning to suffer. The garden had nearly all but dried
up. It was during a time such as that when the comment struck a chord with me.
One man said to the others, “You know the Bible says that it rains on the just
and the unjust?” The others murmured their agreement, knowing where this was
probably headed, when he continued, “I wish it would JUST rain.” At which
point, the others joined in laughing and continuing to have a good time.
As the memories of that dry-spell comment rang
in my head, the weather outside was still wet. It was the fourth day in a row
of heavy downpours. It was obviously the opposite extreme to that faded memory.
Yet, the words of the scripture echoed once more, “It rains on the just and
the unjust.” It was then that I stopped and thought about the verse and
what it meant to our times under the Quarantine-life of COVID-19. In this time,
so many find that their lives have been centered on the things of this world.
Their idols, albeit justified in their minds, however, they wish, from sports
stars to music entertainers, had all been taken away. Now, in the vacuum, many
find their lives empty, void of meaning. All along, they had been living a life
of earthly treasures but hadn’t stopped to take notice until now. The suicide
hotlines are flooded and reports of suicides during the last four weeks have
equaled that of a year’s worth of deaths previously. Sadly, some preachers even
go as far to find wisdom in the data of the Corona Virus media reports instead
of their Bibles. In so doing, they purposely prevent their parishioners from
receiving the very thing that they need most; the Spiritual interactions of
fellowship and worship; the very thing people need most at times like this. I
could go on speaking of negativity, but the tragedy remains the same, many seek
what can never bring them true happiness. The question came to mind, “Do I allow
myself to be brought down by the long, cloudy days, or do I make the best of
what I have?”
One such day last week fit the bill – pouring rain
with dark overcast skies. Through the course of the day, as the hard, driving
rain continued to fall outside, inside I continued to work from home at my
new-found career. The position at App State is a blessing in and of itself, and
in that, there is a testimony that can be shared. But, in addition, there were
the peripheral things of the day that made it bright. That day’s evening meal
was one of comfort food. Again, like those materials that comprise the
structure of the Retreat, the food that brings a sigh to my spirit is that of
good ‘ole’ country food. That evening the family and I sat down to a big pot of
ham and beans, greens, and cornbread. For dessert, I had also baked oatmeal
cookies from scratch. In a sense, I had returned to my roots; the things in
life that make us who we are.
I was blessed in life to be raised by
depression-era family members. Again, I could dwell on the negativity of my
life, but to be able to look back and be thankful for the journey, regardless
of how difficult or challenging it might have been, allows me the vision to
look ahead with gratitude. Being reared by those who had little gave me the
appreciation for those “roughhewn” things of life. While I’ve never had the
“Best Things” of this world, I certainly have been blessed beyond measure in
other things, those that mean the most; God and family. My faith is not
polished and practiced of that of a seminary student, but rather that from
which I have gleaned from the pages of the Word itself. Like those cornfields
of my youth, when we would walk row after row behind the trailer being pulled
by Grandpa’s tractor, gleaning missed cobs, I have studied the Bible for truth.
It is in God’s word that one can find comfort and solace even in the lengthiest
rain spell, or as now, the longest time of forced isolation known to our
generation.
As a farmer, I can tell you that there is a
breath of relief, a sigh of thanks that goes up when the rain begins to fall
after the fields have been properly dressed with fertilizer, when the rows of
corn are safely in the ground. Through the replenishing of the earth’s moisture
it as if the farmer’s soul is also renewed. As it says in the 23rd Psalm,
“My cup runneth over,” is an expression best displayed by the overflow
pipes of a farm pond and the satisfaction within the farmer’s heart. Yes, even
when the rain falls, there is a sense of reward and comfort on the farm where
others find dread and gloom. It is a mindset that many fail to notice in the modern
world. A connection to nature, and to our Creator, has been lost by so many in
the pursuit to make life “better.”
Should we sit and dwell on wondering if we are
the just or the unjust, or should we press onward as the Apostle Paul would
say? In my heart, and my prayer for those in this world who are hurting, is
that we would seek to press on. To find God, to bring him close and to find
beauty in even those things that matter little to the world. In the coming day,
try to spend time with a friend or family member that you haven’t heard from in
a while. Reach out to those who continue to find need to self-quarantine. The
worst thing we can do is to leave someone alone who might be feeling lost and
hopeless when we ourselves have been blessed. Even if our own worlds are
nothing but stones and roughhewn logs, we can still be a comfort to those
around us if we choose to do so. It is up to each of us to be the light in a
dark world.
While our blessings may be worthless by the
world’s standards, they are priceless in the kingdom above.
Embrace love to thy neighbor and be thankful for
the rain, just or unjust.
Thanks be to God.
“But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute
you, that you may be
children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil
and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” – Mt, 5:44-45
“For our light affliction,
which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory; While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the
things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the
things which are not seen are eternal.”- 2 Cor.4:17-18
The afternoon storms brought
blinding rain, blowing in gales of white sheets of water, tossing the canopy of
the forest like waves upon the ocean. From my vantage point on the porch, the
sounds of drops of water from that storm still find their path to the forest
floor, one leaf after another; a continuous soothing sound of liquid falling in
soft echoes. The remnants of the storm that had preceded this evenings chorus, the
tumult long ago swept away by the currents in the sky, now are only a mere
shadow of its former self. The fearful tempest had given way to the calming
collections of water cascading from the treetops in a never-ending cycle of
life. What once was a frightening scene had given way to one of peace.
Our lives can be much like this
very scene; the incomprehensible tempest that eventually gives way to a calm in
its wake. We try to wrap our minds around how out of control our lives can seem
at one moment, and then within a few hours or days, it is as if nothing ever
happened.
This past couple of weeks, my life
has been very much like today’s thunderstorm; a physically debilitating illness
so severe that there was no leaving the bed for several days for the sake of
the pain. Then afterward, a slow, wayward climb back to normalcy; a calming
effect of what life had once been; the new norm.
Sometimes our afflictions seem
anything but light.
The fever that began a couple Saturdays ago
was unusual in that there were no other signs of infection; no lymph nodes
swollen, no rashes, nothing to indicate a cause. Everyone suggested Rocky
Mountain Spotted fever, or even perhaps Lyme Disease. The doctors searched, one
blood test after another; nothing gave any indications other than the obvious
facts of white blood cell counts falling daily, and blood platelets
disappearing faster than my weary body could produce them. Finally, the Oncologists
provided insight as he stood before me with a medical chart in hand. Before he
began, my thoughts flashed to my friend and brother in Christ, and the battle
he still fights daily. Not long ago, that friend sat in an office much like the
one I was in at the time and heard the heart-wrenching news of finding out he
had Leukemia. He and his wife are always in my prayers, and Leukemia was something
that had definitely been on my mind. So, as I sat there listening, the doctor
was nearly giddy with the news, as he conveyed that my results did not indicate
cancer. We both smiled. The bad news was that the illness was pointing to some
type of insect-borne disease; the results of tests that would identify the
source wouldn’t be available for several more weeks. What friends and family
had suggested had yet to be ruled out. So, finally, with a prescription for an
antibiotic, I went home and began to recover within 24 hours of the first dose.
It had been a mere precaution from the Oncologists but proved to be precisely
what was needed; as the Oncologist would say later, there definitely been some
type of infection.
Tonight, as the calming sounds of
the raindrops comfort my weary body, the thought of the verse in Corinthians
makes more sense. The light afflictions of our daily lives, unlike those that
Christ suffered for our sake, are mere stepping stones to what our Savior has
waiting for us in eternity. Even the extreme fevers, which may only be for a
moment in time, when compared with the extent of our earthly life, are just
another trial through which we persevere. Sometimes we survive the tempest to
reach the evening that follows of complicit temperatures and pleasant sounds of
soothing raindrops softly falling in the forest. When we battle through the
spiritual wars in our life, much like the ferocity of thunderstorms, we are
left wondering if our boat will capsize and all will be lost. It is in these
tempests that we learn to lean on Him.
Day after day, we must remind
ourselves that we are not alone, nor does He want us to go it alone. As Paul
wrote, “When I am weakest, it is then He, my God, is the strongest.” For
myself, the most difficult part is remembering to lean on Him. So often we
allow our human nature to take over, and we strive to “make it happen.”
I hear friends tell me that they sometimes don’t think they can go another day,
that their job is just too demanding, that the workload is more than they can bear.
It is then that I ask, “Have you asked Him for help? Are you leaning on your
Savior, or are you trying to do it all alone?” I know from my own perspective,
I’m guilty of forgetting to ask Him for help and then finding out I’m once
again trying to do it on my own.
The old gospel song, “Learning to
Lean,” is a perfect example of how we must remind ourselves that we are not
alone, and it is our Savior’s desire that we reach out to him and ask for help.
What parent has not had their heart melt when a child reaches up to them with
open and arms and asks, “Can you help me?” God, our Father, is the same; loving
each of us unconditionally, regardless of our faults, our sins, and our past.
We are forgiven. All we have to do is confess our sins and ask Him to come into
our lives. With childlike faith, we must have a heart that is willing to lean
on Him. We battle against powers, principalities, and dark forces that are not
of this world, so why would you think you can do it by yourself?
Leaning trees on the John’s River, near Collettsville, NC. in the Blueridge Mountains.
As a teacher, you spend countless
hours during the course of the school year, foregoing sleep, family, and often
personal time for yourself. It is during the few weeks of the summer that
teachers can catch up and find time for themselves. Unlike what I might have
wanted or envisioned, this summer has been anything but relaxing. I’m not
complaining, for it has been a season of growth; finding my walk with God
becoming closer than ever before. It has been a time of finding a level of
patience that heretofore I didn’t know existed. In the waiting, searching for
the next door to open, I found a sense of peace within that was only possible
because of the grace that God had provided.
Were there moments when the
thought of no medical insurance, no job, and no hint of future employment would
crash into my mind and mentally take my breath away?
Yes, of course.
Did I allow those thoughts to drown me in depression and sorrow, feeling pity
for myself?
No, I didn’t.
Each time those fears surfaced, I
remembered what the Word had taught me, and I would take a deep breath and feel
the hand of God upon me. He builds a hedge of protection before and behind us
in all that we do. The scripture says, “If God is for us, who can be against
us?” When we truly walk with our Savior each and every day, we learn to
think of him being by our side. It is then that I have found that we find we
are never alone. People look at the Retreat and are often impressed by the magnitude
of a simple little building built by me; me a mere whisper of a man, barely
150lbs soaking wet. It is then that I remind them that I haven’t done it alone.
Other than the occasional help from friends and my son, the majority of it was
accomplished by just the two of us; God and me.
Now I know, and often when I say
this, I can see the skeptical look of most people arise, as you might be
thinking at this point. But let me give you just one moment when I learned
early on that He was with me.
The floor of the foundation was
covered with the first layer of plywood, and I had begun to put up the outer
walls. Before starting to build them, I first engineered a system of cables,
and pulleys such that I could use my tractor to help raise the enormous weight
of a wall. At this point, I can most assuredly tell you that God had given me
the insight on how to do this because alone, I would have never figured it out.
But that’s not the testimony I wanted to share; that is yet to come.
Once everything was in place, I
boldly built the first wall. It consisted of ten-foot-tall 2×6’s complete with
a front door and two windows, all consisting of full headers above each. The
headers alone probably weighed 300 lbs. When it was time to lift the wall, I
attempted to wedge a crowbar under the top plate in order to put the chain
around it. There was no budging it. Feeling defeated, I sat down on the far
corner and viewed the monstrosity of workmanship.
“Would it have to be taken apart
and done one piece at a time,” my mind questioned.
Then I remembered the most
important part of all that I was doing: “I hadn’t asked God for help.”
At that moment, I went to Him in
prayer, thanking him for all that we had done up to this point. There had been
so many other times when He gave me strength, wisdom, and encouragement. Like
never before, I needed him now. As my prayer was lifted up, there was that
feeling of energy flowing through my weary limbs, as I had felt so many times
before. I said “Amen,” and stood up, walked over to the wall and jammed the
crowbar underneath the top plate, as I had attempted to do before, but now was
successful. Quickly, I snaked the log chain around the top plate and then
connected its hook around the other part of the chain.
It was ready to lift.
Once more, knowing what had just
transpired, I asked God for his help in this, and that he help me get the wall
standing before the end of the day.
A few minutes later, the twenty-foot long wall was standing at a 45-degree angle. It spanned the entire length of the front of the building. As I had learned in construction many years ago, I had placed braces to keep it up, even though the chain held it, but in my excitement, I had missed that the block and tackle had jammed into the chain at the top. There was no more the tractor and cable system could do. Now it was up to me to inch the wall up vertically using the two braces, each held in place by a single nail. It was at this point that with every breath I prayed. Every inch, the wall began to rise. Because the block and tackle were preventing the wall from going any further up, it had to be disconnected. Now, not only was there nearly a ton of wall looming over my head, but there was nothing to keep it from crashing down on me; nothing but the hand of God. Feverishly I worked, praying, sweating, and putting all that my small frame could humanly muster, all the while, the power of the Holy Spirit flowed through my veins.
Suddenly, before I knew it, she
was standing tall.
I stepped back and looked. There
before me, the entire twenty-foot wall stood perfectly in place, perfectly
erect. The two braces were holding tight. To make sure it was finished, I
walked over and took the level to make sure it was right.
It was perfectly level.
I leaned the level against the
wall and stepped back.
“Amazing,” I breathed, “I can’t
believe I did that,” I thought to myself.
Did you hear it? Did you hear when
I once more allowed the natural man within, that fleshly part of our being that
wants to take all the credit? It’s so easy to forget. But there is always an
answer in the word for our stumbling blocks. James wrote, “Humble yourselves
in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up.”
Yet, for a split second, the
natural man resurfaced and entered the self-gratification he so often seeks. In
my haste, not only had I forgotten that “I” hadn’t done anything, but rather,
God had done it through me. The verse, “I can do all things through Christ
who strengtheneth me,” never rang so true at that moment. In my exuberance,
the thrill of seeing what we had done together, I had forgotten to nail the braces
to the floor to keep the wall from going any farther in the direction I had
been pushing it.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a breeze stirred the top of the trees. My sweat-stained shirt felt the coolness, which was a relief in the autumn heat. The leaves swirled slightly at the foot of the building and then in horror, I watched as the wall eerily, like a slow-motion film, began to tilt the opposite direction. It quickly picked up the speed until it became a crescendo of crashing lumber falling off the front of the building, crashing into the tractor and support structures below.
The once impressive display of
engineering was now a broken pile of wood and nails.
In that brief instant, I realized
what the error of my ways. In my moment of self-elation, I had merely thought
that it was “I” that had done something, rather than giving God the credit. In
the blink of an eye, it was all taken away. The testimony at that moment was no
longer about the success of the project, but rather, now it was about my failure;
yes, my affliction.
How many times has something gone
wrong in your life that you’ve had to start over? How many times has what
seemed a disaster eventually became a blessing? Time and time again, what
seemed to be a failure only allowed another door to open, and with it,
something more precious and valuable arose. It is then the line in the verse, “our
light affliction, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight
of glory,” comes into focus.
It took three days, and two more
men to help me correct the disaster and to redo what God and I had done in just
a few minutes. By reaching out to those other men for help, it allowed them to become
part of the Retreat construction, and in so doing, also gave them the
opportunity to feel God with us. From that point forward, the sharing of the
labor of love began to grow, and many more would eventually come to help when
time allowed.
In the end, what seemed a
momentary affliction worked a greater glory, one that wasn’t visible from the
start, but in the end, was something that would go deeper than the temporal; an
eternal blessing. Once more, I learned to lean a little more on my Savior.
When the storms of this world crash
into your life, hold on tight and pray. Yes, my friend, pray that God is with
you. No matter how dark the night, no matter how painful the fever, there is
always a dawning of a new day, and with it, the opportunity to rise from the
ashes. There is no sin too great that God cannot forgive. Christ died for all
men, even those who knew him not, so that we all, yes, all of us could have the
hope of eternal salvation.
The tiny droplets continue to fall;
one precious leaf after another until their weight gently caresses the forest
floor. The mist begins to cover the lower reaches of the valleys below. From
the mountain, the vastness of God’s creation exceeds our ability to comprehend,
but for a moment, we can inhale the beauty for which we have been created.
Let not the evil of this world encircle
you so tightly that there is no light from which you can reach too for help. The
pain will pass, the storm will give way, and in its wake, a peaceful assurance
will be waiting; your confirmation that God is with you, for now, and evermore.
His hands were calloused from
years of labor; working on the farm, and now this, building the Retreat. Scars
covered is arms like roadmaps of a tumultuous life. One stone after another he
carefully picked from the pile of rocks, rotating it in his hands before
finding the match for which it had been chosen. Around him, the forest sang
along to the music to which he worked. The man had a special affinity to
listening to music while he toiled; it made him slip away from the pain of the
job at hand and allowed his mind to float from one life’s precious memory after
another.
Music had always held a special place in his heart.
There were times when he was at work, thinking to himself
that after the next song, he would stop for a much-needed break. Inadvertently,
the next song would speak to him, keeping him enraptured. Unable to break the
bond, he pushed his body onward; sometimes to the point of near exhaustion.
Today it was like that once more, as one rock after another
was placed onto the chimney. The strains of gospel songs were compelling him to
recall scriptures that matched the lyrics of what was being sung. The hum of
the cement mixer blended into the background while his mind continued to buoy
from the Word of God and back again. It wasn’t until the song, “You Raise Me
Up,” came on that he had to pause.
“You raise me up, so I
can stand on mountains,
You
raise me up to walk on stormy seas,
I am strong when I am on your shoulders,
You
raise me up to more than I can be.”
As the captivating voices of the Celtic Woman drifted into
his consciousness, he suddenly realized he was being transported to one of the
most special places in his heart; those distant Alpine Peaks of the Waldensian
Valleys. He paused, looking up through the canopy of the forest to the azure blue
sky. In his mind, he was back on that day, when he and a young pastor he still
only knew as Stanley, had stood on that peak facing the valley below. The view
was of a breathtaking vista in which God’s craftsmanship was on full display. The
clear blue sky hung like a shroud above the temple of those fateful valleys
below. There, where so many had lost their lives because of their faith, the
depth of time and wails of mournful cries combined into a bittersweet scene
that stretched as far as the eye could see.
They, both he and Stanley, had felt the hand of God upon them
that day; so much so, each took measure to make mention to the other of how
this day may never come again in their lives; at least not in this one; not in
this manner. Each man knew in his heart that this possibly might be the only
time on this side of Heaven in which they would feel the presence of God so
strongly.
The feeling that remained in the man’s heart from that day
had not abated; but rather, had only caused his faith to grow stronger. The lyrics
in the song made perfect sense as the ladies continued to repeat the chorus, “You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas.”
Knowing that this time in his life was as if he was in a boat being tossed upon
a stormy sea. Yet, in his faith, he knew that God was in control. The door to
the future would open when God had finished the preparations. The man’s faith
in Jesus Christ allowed him to walk upon that stormy sea, fearing not that he
may sink. Unlike the Apostle Peter, he was sustained by all that he had learned
of his walk in faith from that epic mountaintop experience.
It was then he realized, the work that he did was just as
his forefathers had done back in those valleys so many centuries before; laying
stone. At one point, they were known around the world for their skill in stone
masonry, among many of the other spiritual gifts they possessed. The song
interrupted his momentary epiphany with the words, “I am strong when I am on your shoulders.”
It was all becoming clearer. Like the low hanging clouds
that had obscured the nearby peak on that fateful day, when they parted, it was
as if a new revelation began to take hold. Like their ancient faith, like one
carved out of stone, they never gave in to the demands that they relinquish their
belief in God. In their hearts, they knew that God had given them a special
gift when the disciples made their way to these valleys and spoke the words
that gave them hope, the words that gave them salvation. From that day on, they
vowed to never let those precious scriptures leave their hearts. Memorizing
them so that they could never lose them, they would pass them down from
generation to the next until they had become an oddity in the annals of
mankind. Fro this they would be sought for persecution and atrocities few have
known since. When they had been persecuted, it only made them grow closer in
their walk. When their feet were literally held to the flames, they worshipped
and sang songs in their dying breaths.
The gravity of the moment made him find a seat and pause
even more.
Martin Luther spoke of the power of music in our faith when
he wrote, ““We can mention only one point
(which experience confirms), namely, that next to the Word of God, music
deserves the highest praise. No greater commendation than this can be found —
at least not by us. After all, the gift of language combined with the gift of
song was only given to man to let him know that he should praise God with both
word and music, namely, by proclaiming [the Word of God] through music.”
When I find myself seeking answers, listening for God to
speak, many times it comes in the form of music; either a song or an instrumental
piece. Many has been the time when there seemed to be no direction to my
journey, or there was no clear sign from which to act, and without intentionally
thinking about the impasse, a song would play through the speakers; there would
come an answer.
A chill passed over the man’s body- the feeling of the Holy
Spirit passing through him- as the next verse nearly took his breath, “You raise me up to more than I can be.”
That morning, the scripture from Hebrews 6:9 stood out, like
a beacon. “But, beloved, we are persuaded
better things of you, and things that accompany salvation, though we thus speak.”
Even though the future was uncertain, he knew that with
faith, better things awaited. He again thought of that journey to the distant
mountain, one in which he could not afford, yet God provided. A journey in
which he never dreamed of making, but there he was. Again, and again, there was
the miraculous being played out before him in such dramatic, demanding fashion
that there would not be enough time to write them all down.
As he sat thinking of all that had gone on since that day with
Stanley, he realized the future was just as unknown today as it was then. But
as the Word of God had told us, with the faith of your salvation, we can trust
that in the end, God’s will shall be done.
Through all of his life’s trials, God had been continually
molding him, shaping him into the faithful believer he was today. There were
scars, both inside and out, that were reminders of that journey. Through Jesus
Christ, he had been made more than he could ever thought possible. Once he left
behind the chains of sin, his world changed. It was as if he had been reborn.
All things became new, and with new eyes, he could see like never before.
The man stood as the song ended, and before the next one could
begin, picked up the next stone and walked toward the growing wall before him.
Where it was to go, the Master’s hand would tell.
With time, we shall know the answers to the journey; with
faith, we will persevere to the end.
It pretty much started back when the late John W. Parsons said to me, “Do you have an out building you can practice in?”
J.W., we called him for short, was referring to me learning how to play the fiddle and that it would be best if I had somewhere to practice, lest I drive my wife crazy with the horrible sounds of a beginner fiddle player in the house.
“No,” I respectfully replied.
“Well, you better build one or you won’t be married long,” he said, and laughed before refocusing on where we had left off in our lesson that evening.
As a matter of fact, I had already begun adding onto the original section of barn I had built years before, unsure of how it might be used. I now had a reason to make part of the new addition somewhere I could get out of the weather and perhaps practice my newfound instrument. So with the purpose of creating a room to play music in, the studio in the barn began to take shape. I purchased ship-lapped poplar from Foster Rives, who had cut it from local lumber and planed it in his own sawmill just down the road from the farm. I installed it after putting up the walls, roof and outer shell of the barn, completing what would be a welcome retreat. Over time, the poplar becamed naturally aged to the golden hue it displays today. The wood stove came later, moved up from the old cabin, making the studio complete.
The cold rainy days when the farm work had to be put on hold, I would eagerly retreat to the studio. There I would build a fire in the woodstove and soon, the beautiful aromas of coffee brewing in the old percolator pot mixing with that of the hickory in the fire blending with the faint smells of the sweet hay in the hayloft just outside the studio door combined to make an ambiance that would start my creative juices flowing. There in the studio, I once more revisited old talents I had unintentionally left behind; starting to paint once again after years of leaving my paint brushes in the closet. It was here that I also rediscovered my writing, after years of leaving the pen lie dormant, with the occasional story that might rise to the surface, perculating like the coffee in the pot on top of the wood stove. And, of course, I would practice my fiddle, alone and away from ears that might be bothered by the slowly diminishing sour notes that had once been produced in abundance in my early days of learning.
Inside the upstairs room in the barn, strains of music wafted from the CD player. Songs were played according to the activity I was performing which accompanied my subconscious as I worked either on portraits, landscapes, stories for my book or just playing along on the fiddle. This was my home-away-from-home. Outside the windows, the world would present itself as the farm around me lived out its daily routine, regardless of the elements. As the rain pitter-pattered down, the cows might lie lazily underneath the cover of the trees that stood near the chicken coop. The chickens would cluck and crow, scratching the ground paying no mind to the nearby bovine neighbors as they walked about their runs, safe from the world and uncaring of the weather. Their only cares being that they might find a morsel of protein wiggling about in the dark earth.
Inside the comfort of the studio, I watched the seasons pass; winter, spring, summer and fall, safe from their temperature extremes, yet thankful that each were tranquil in their own right. Eventually, when my children were old enough, they would join me in the room up in the barn to paint, play music or just warm themselves by the woodstove if the opportunity presented itself. At times, I would cook meals in the cast iron skillet on the stove top, making the room come alive with smells of fried sausage or bacon. To me, there aren’t any restaurants to which I am aware that can compare to a home cooked meal on an old wood stove. As I would sit back in the easy chair and savor the delectable morsels of food, the air would still linger with the soothing smell of fresh cooked food, wood smoke and hot fresh coffee still bubbling up in the percolator.
Yes, the barn studio is someplace I will miss once we move. It is someplace that the kids will undoubtedly never forget, knowing that it too became a retreat to which they could go to reinvent themselves and become one with their inner person. We all need a place to go where life can be left at the door, where we may once again turn our thoughts inward and be at peace with our soul; giving ourselves to the gifts with which God has blessed us.
