Tag Archives: students

by | December 16, 2025 · 10:57 am

Vulnerability

“There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death.” – Romans 8:1-2

The sheer release, the omnifying conceptualization of the totality of the semester, arrived and, without fanfare or pomposity, passed as a perishable snowflake falling before you – a stark reminder of the beauty and the frailty of the reality that surrounds life. In the moment, you realize that your senses had almost become numb from the constant toil, and you scramble to collect your thoughts, to pull from the void that which keeps your life pursuant to the will of God. With clinched hands, nails dug into the meat of that which is about to be lost, you hold on for fear of losing all that is of value. One by one, you grab them, a snow globe of thoughts shaken, recollecting them, trying to embrace that which had seemingly vanished, and return to their former place. Yet, amid the storm, relevance and positioning had been rearranged as if by chance. But we know better.

To lose oneself in the pursuit of an agenda placed before us – a goal, a resolution, a tacit requirement; whatever it might be, it requires a level of focus that consumes our lives that pushes out everything we call living. Everything but the granite, the resolve that resides within, the flicker of hope, for without, we would be lost, is all that remains. This is how we often find ourselves at the conclusion of a season, a semester, a portion of life that was more than a grind. It was from this shadow that I had recently crawled, beaten, worn, but unfettered to carry on. But once we become free of that which had held us in bondage, we realize that the blessing of life is still there, the purest morning dew, sparkling like a diamond upon the cusp of the precious rose. It is a realization that He is faithful never to leave us, nor forsake us.

Emerging from beneath this boulder, it felt as if I had taken my first breath of life in a long time. And before I knew it, the Lord had placed before me a delectable portion, a reminder of why we do what we do in the service of ministry on a college campus. “The table is set before us in the presence of our enemies. He anointed my head with oil. My cup runneth over.”[1]

But to understand how all this unfolded, we must go back a day or so.

A few moments later, after my final exam, I found myself meeting with a young man who had unexpectedly come into my radar a few days earlier. But to appreciate this meeting, one had to go back to when the story really began.

It happened to be Friday night, one of those evenings when the time was usually taken up by a weekly meeting of the Ratio Christi Leadership team. Ratio Christi (RC), which means “Reason for Christ” in Latin, is a global apologetics organization that meets weekly on campus. On that particular night, the semester ended the day before. The students were embroiled in the first day of finals and preparation for the coming week’s exams. So, without fanfare and with a vague hope of finding at least one student with whom we might have a conversation, an RC colleague and I made our way to the campus dining facility, “Central,” as it’s known by the student body.

Upon landing at a table near the entrance, close to 6 pm, we surveyed the area. It was still early by student standards – they typically eat supper around nine. Settling in, it wasn’t long before we were joined by one of the Ratio Christi student leaders, Josh. Discussions started around plans for the break and the remaining finals. There was a certain feeling of renewed freedom in the air, like a fresh snowfall, an eagerness to partake in the unblemished beauty of that which promised excitement and escape from the tedium. A few minutes later, another leader named Great showed up, and not long after him, two more members joined. Before we knew it, we had a lively discussion underway. God had truly delivered.

But the best was yet to come.

Out of the corner of my eye, Elias sat not far away. Elias, a tall, thin, very well-mannered young man, was an undergrad who had been on our periphery the entire semester. He was the kind of student who always asked challenging questions but kept accepting Christ into his life at arm’s length. Motioning for him to join us, Elias came over, accepting the invitation, but said that he was with his roommate. “Well, invite him over, you both are certainly welcome,” I responded with a sincere gesture. He smiled and nodded, agreeing, and returned shortly with a trim, neat young man named Brent.

The group welcomed Brent, and the common communal questioning began: where are you from, what’s your major, what year are you, and so on. Since he was Elias’s roommate, we all had to know, “Do you have the same reservations as Elias about accepting Christ into your life?” Someone asked the elephant in the room question out loud, perhaps it was me, and Brent quickly responded that yes, he was a believer. There was a collective sigh from the spontaneous gathering. Elias grinned broadly but kept quiet. Then, curious and with some intention of wanting Elias’s itch to be scratched, I asked the young man, now sitting directly across from me, if he had any questions about faith that he might like to ask the group. Hey, we were apologists; we needed a good Friday night challenge. So, in true Godly fashion, he asked a question that more than caught my attention: “How can I become more vulnerable to God?”

He was looking directly at me, his lips twisted in a half-smile, half-grimace, but his eyes never wandered nor wavered in their intensity.

There was dead silence as a momentary lull fell over the table. Behind smiling faces, everyone was scrambling, trying to consider the source and intention of what he said. After what seemed an eternity, someone asked a clarifying question, to which he responded, “How can you become more vulnerable to God?”

From that point forward, the other students jumped in, eager to swim in the river of theological discussions. We had just walked through a semester in a mostly arid, academic desert; there were no more apologetic club meetings, and now, thanks to a more than thought-provoking question, we found ourselves standing on the shore of a beautiful, crystal-clear river flowing with life and love. One by one, we dove in and swam with all our might. The water was more than refreshing – it was exhilarating, the current swift. It felt like it had been an eternity.

Later that night, during prayer, Brent came to mind. The still, small voice said there was a need: someone crying out for help but hesitant to ask. Sometimes thoughts become more than ethereal contemplations, making us say, as Johan Wolfgang von Goethe’s Faust, “Verweile doch, du bist so schoene,” meaning, “Stay for a while, you are so beautiful.” But as fleeting as the snowflakes fall upon one’s lips, they are gone before we can savor their meaning for our lives. However, once in a while, God whispers a gentle reminder, pulling back that ethereal consciousness into the moment, making us aware of the obvious, allowing one to hear the cry for help in a busy world. Like a hand reaching out from the depths of an avalanche, smothered by life, we find them, and thanks be to God, we grab onto that desperate soul who wants to cling to life but heretofore didn’t know how.

Looking back, God’s voice was anything but still. There was a particular urgency to it, so much so that it forced me to immediately reach out to him. Being late on a Friday evening, one might be lucky to get a response from a student on social media by the following Monday, if then. But to my surprise, he quickly responded. It was an obvious sign: a hand reaching up from an avalanche in the snow, grasping for air, for survival, the cry to live.

A weekend and one final later, we sat down, and we quickly got to the heart of the matter – my instincts, and God’s nudge were correct, it was far beyond being vulnerable. It was even beyond the next question, how one could turn away from the sin in their life. As we dug into the answer to question after question, more layers of a life of depravity and isolation emerged, offering insight into the life of a young man who was near a breaking point.

That still small voice turned out to be a megaphone.

We read through Romans 8, and I reassured him that the scripture clearly says there is no condemnation for those who truly follow after Him. Then, feeling as if he needed to know that God was with him, even when he least realized it, we turned to Psalm 139, where I asked him to read it through slowly and methodically, with great care. As I patiently watched and waited, he read the entire Psalm. When he finished, he looked up at me and, with a look of somber reflection, said, “Wow. I never thought of it like that. He’s really with us no matter where we go, no matter how hard we try to flee from him. He is there.”

“Yes, and Amen,” I replied. “Do you think it was just a coincidence that we met in the dining hall Friday night? Do you realize that since Ratio Christi didn’t have a meeting, it was more likely for me to go home than to hang out on campus?”

His smile grew when he said, “Yeah, and I don’t often go with Elias to Central either. That’s crazy!”

“Ain’t it? You know, Brent, God is already there with you, waiting for you to open the door. You being vulnerable is not the question; rather, because of who He is, you can’t help but be vulnerable. All you have to do is open the door.”

We continued to discuss how it is no coincidence that God is ever-present in our lives; we only have to open our eyes and acknowledge his presence. “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten, full of grace and truth.”[2] Beholding him, realizing that He is there, the creator of the universe watching over us – truly, there is no greater sense of vulnerability one might have. If that’s not enough, we only need to turn to the Psalm, “O Lord, You have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up…Where shall I go from Your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, You are there!…even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me.”[3]

As the time passed, we talked about many other topics, and Brent shared his life’s story, and it quickly became apparent that we needed many more of these sit-downs. As a measure of recompense, earlier in the week, I had mentioned to several people the need to regain focus on discipling next semester. And before I knew it, there sitting before me was a young man who badly needed just that. Unbeknownst to me, before we ever sat down, my prayers for God to help me find direction in discipling were answered; God had already had a name for my ever-growing list.

In The Princess and the Goblin, George MacDonald wrote, “the fire did not hurt him; it only purified him,” referring to the character Curdie’s experience of a purifying transformation. Similarly, the trials of life become our spiritual formation, building character, refining us into the person God intends. Once we emerge from those trials of life, the fire, we find the weight lifted, our lives given back to us, but now, the purpose for which we had sought to strive shifted, and suddenly, we find ourselves standing before a great treasure – the opportunity to begin anew.

As a fleeting glimpse of a golden, mythical sunrise passes, so do those occasions when we are afforded the chance to pour into the life of someone who came close to the precipice of life’s edge. When we ourselves have been refreshed through the purifying fires, gleaning away all that is superfluous, the essence of life becomes much clearer. We become an asset, whether we know it or not, to those around us who need caring voices to guide their lives. If only we would listen to that still small voice.

In this season of new beginnings, listen to those voices around you and be ready to throw a lifeline to someone in need. Pull up your sleeves and get ready.

The fields are truly white with harvest, but the laborers are few.

 

[1] Psalm 23, KJV Bible

[2] John 1:14 KJV Bible

[3] Psalm 139 KJV Bible

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by | November 12, 2020 · 8:37 pm

To Catch a Shooting Star

by Timothy W. Tron, Nov. 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks be to God.

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

[2] Romans 12:3 KJV

[3] Psalm 63:3

[4] Romans 12:2 KJV

[5] Isaiah 29:14 KJVß

[6] John 3:21 KJV

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by | October 22, 2017 · 2:19 pm

Sunday Devotion, Oct. 22, 2017

The full harvest moon reflected off the roadway as my car neared the peak in the road as I made my way through Blowing Rock. It was barely 5:30 AM. Thoughts of how magnificent the image was before me washed across my consciousness. Never mind the picture, for they never did justice to such a sight. No, these were the instances in life that you simply had to be there to understand all that was in that moment.

My week had been much like that.

The morning announcement voice came over the intercom as it had done daily since the beginning of school. Her slow, southern drawl was as timeless as sweet tea on those balmy Sunday evenings after everyone had gone for the day. We had come to anticipate her pledge, its slow cadence melodic and ageless. So, this day started like many others, but before she had finished, there was something new, an unexpected announcement. Something about how her journey was not over, just turning another page. That sweet, calm voice had a hint emotion we never detected on those other mornings. There arose a lump in my throat as I tried to make sense. A muffled, shuffling sound came next as the microphone had been given to a ROTC Cadet who followed with a solemn pledge.

Before I knew it, my feet were heading to the office area, if nothing else, to share some words with those ladies I so rarely got to see. As I rounded the corner, the hint of what we heard was confirmed. There was nothing left to do as I approached than to give her a hug of comforting compassion. The moment was as sincere as was the beauty of the moon just hours earlier. Nothing could be conveyed that would portray that moment as nary a dry eye was among us.

John 14:17-18 tells us, “Even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you. 18 I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.” When we walk in Christ, as we are in Him, He is in us, and so we share that faith with those around us no matter our circumstance, no matter our situation. As he comes to us to be our Comforter, allow us to do so in the coming week ahead to those with whom we encounter in our daily walk of faith.

Thanks be to God.

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by | September 17, 2017 · 8:36 pm

Stumped…

For days, I had passed over it; the unobtrusive, worn maple stump.

The tires of my tractor occasionally bumped into the hard gray knob, but it was low enough that it didn’t impede the progress of the building site. Back and forth, pushing the soft, red dirt with the front-end loader of my tractor the land began to take shape. The ground was slowly beginning to resemble the start of a foundation for the future out-building.

This wasn’t my first.

I can still hear J.W. Parson’s voice telling me, as he grinned from ear to ear, “Boy, you’re married, right?” We had paused between me trying to play the song on my fiddle he had just shown me and the next few minutes when we would begin the painful process once more. The room in which we sat was lit by one weak bulb hanging down from the ceiling. The string that you pulled to turn it off and on with lay draped across its yellow luminance. Around us implements of killing hogs hung on the walls; saws, knives, and axes. Their clean, sharp edges glowed in the dim light. There was an air of reality in J.W.’s out-building that only aged blood on wooden floors can exude. Reno Sharpe and an elderly friend of mine who had tagged along for the evening’s entertainment sat on an empty upturned five-gallon bucket nearby smiling as he probably already knew what was coming.

“Yes sir,” I replied unsure of where this was going.

“You got you an outbuilding to play in?”

“No, not yet.”

He laughed and winked over at Reno.

“Well, you better git to building yourself one if you want to stay married,” which he followed up with a roaring laugh as he slapped his knee. Reno and I joined in, for it was apparent what he meant.

In a matter of speaking, the lack of having a place to practice as a beginning fiddler was my stump back then. Before I could really go further, that outbuilding had to be built. Yet, to become the fiddler I had hoped would take countless hours of isolated study and practice.

Nothing would come easy.

Not long following that evening’s lesson, I began constructing my studio in the barn where for several years my violin would eventually sound more like that of J.W.’s, but never entirely. In that isolated home-away-from-home, we would find a retreat from which music, art, and writing flowed. It was more than just an out-building; it became our sanctuary of sorts.

To begin, it was necessary to take a step back.

That was then, this is now.

Once more, we are beginning again; starting over; seeking to find that special place where we can feel the hand of our Lord reach and speak through us. What we hope to achieve will not be easy. Yet, there is so much for which to be thankful. In this journey of faith, we are constantly reminded of the world we left behind and how we are made anew.

So, once more, we begin again.

From the forest, the opening was carved. The aged, rotting maple seemed an easy target when the trees were selected to be cut. Its stump remained all through the clearing process, never presenting itself an obstacle other than the occasional bump under the tires. It wasn’t until the land was leveled and the string lines were pulled that it became obvious; the stump had to go. The very foundation could not be set without it being completely removed. What once seemed a trivial matter now halted the entire construction process. It seemed nothing more than a grayish-mud splattered annoyance that would be gone in a matter of minutes.

Then reality struck.

When the blade of the scoop began trying to find the outer edges of the root ball, it quickly became apparent, this was a much bigger problem than first imagined. In essence, I was going to have to take a step back even further than imagined in order to extract the now, unavoidable barrier.

Last week, working with the Christian club students, we found a similar reality check.

There again was the stump; one that at first seemed to have little if no consequence in what we were planning. But as we progressed in what we had hoped to achieve; evangelizing the Word of God to the rest of the student body, it became apparent that there was something daunting sitting in the path of our progress; an unavoidable root ball of sorts; fear.

When we began to do more than speak about what we should do as Christians, when we would actually go out and witness to others, it was then that we realized how ill-prepared we really were. The very act of approaching others in order to speak to them about Christ froze our students, stopping their very progression of growth. Like those students, when we try to evangelize to the world around us, some of us quickly find our shortcomings. We hear that voice in the back of our head reminding us, “You are not ready.” It is then obvious, like the tree stump, we must go back to the beginning and start over, learning what we must do to witness as those early disciples.
Digging deep into the earth surrounding the remains of the tree we would begin to hack away at the tenuous arms that held the once massive tree in place. Like membranes of bone, the ancient arms stretched in all directions. Like embedded fears from childhood, our inhibitions to speaking to others about our faith can only be overcome when we remove the restraints we put upon ourselves; our self-imposed root ball. With time, study, and trust in the Lord, our faith will grow until we understand there is no fear in serving Him; for He is with us in all that we do.

The back-breaking work was eventually rewarded this past weekend when the massive root ball gave way. It was an enormous relief. Once the obstruction was gone, the re-leveling of the building site took only a few minutes.
Likewise, the work with the students will take time. It won’t be easy, and at times it will seem as if we can’t win but in the end, the reward we will obtain will be far greater than that of removing even the most stubborn tree stump. Once they have found their confidence, their personal stumps will be gone, leaving the ground from which to build.

Bringing salvation to the lost will be something they, and each of us will never forget, and the heavenly reward will be for all eternity.

Thanks be to God.

“The preparations of the heart in man, and the answer of the tongue, is from the Lord. All the ways of a man are clean in his own eyes; but the Lord weigheth the spirits. Commit thy works unto the Lord, and thy thoughts shall be established. …” – Proverbs 16

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by | June 28, 2017 · 5:07 pm

God-Chance with the Wilderness Scouts

Once again, the crisp cool morning was a welcome respite. The weather has been quite welcoming these latter days of June, once more reminding me of the high altitude climate of those distant valleys of my recent travels. So it was this past Monday morning, when other than the Statistics classwork, the only other items on my to-do list were to meet a buyer for some of our furniture at the storage unit and to drop by some friends house to return a book and to share a new one. In the meantime, I thought it would be nice to drop by the Trail where the rest of the family was meeting for lunch, and spend some time together.

If nothing else, it was a beautiful day just to be out.

The early morning passed quickly, as did the chill that had been so refreshing. Soon I found myself on the road and focusing on the tasks at hand. Before long, my car pulled into the parking lot of the Trail to find a van full of students and teachers already unloaded and heading into the Visitor’s Center. The first thing that stood out was that they were dressed much like the rural people of the valleys from where I had just been, with the women wearing long skirts and head scarfs. It was nice to see something that crossed the decades of time and oceans which were a physical reminder of the past. Making my way into the office, past the bustling activity of the visitors preparing for their tour, I settled down for my meal. About that time my wife whispered in my ear, “Would you have time to give them a guided tour if they want to take one?” With almost no thought I replied, “Sure, I can make time.”

In the other room, the group decided to eat lunch first, so without knowing it, our timing would be in sync for what was to come. From the other room I overheard a marvelous tale. As they ate, one of the leaders read a story to the group of a young Waldensian girl and her mother. The story told of how Piedmontese soldiers showed up one day to search their house for any trace of a Bible. They had just been reading scriptures while mixing the dough for the daily bread. Owning or possessing a Bible during this timeframe was punishable by death. Knowing the dire circumstances, the woman had to act quickly. Before the child knew it, her mother had hidden the family Bible in the dough she had been kneading at the time of their arrival and shoved it into the hearth to bake. The mother answered the angry knocks at the door, allowing the men to enter and search as they wanted. Not soon enough, they left, as rudely and briskly as they had entered. They were none the wiser.

“Where did you hide our Bible,” asked the little girl?

“Soon you will see,” she smiled.

Not long after the mother pulled the finished bread from the oven. The mother smiled and nodded toward the loaf sitting before her. The child’s eyebrows raised at the thought.

“You put it in the bread,” she questioned, unbelievably?

“Yes, where else could I have put it?”

The story was a perfect preface for their visit. I hadn’t heard it before and wondered to myself where they had found it. My mental deliberations were momentarily broken when I heard my wife asking them if they might like a guided tour instead of just taking the self-guided tour, “We actually have one of our guides here today,” she was happy to convey. After a short discussion, the group leader replied, “Yes, we’d love to if it is possible.”

Quickly swallowing the last of my sandwich, I found an extra Trail T-Shirt in the closet and donned my uniform for the afternoon.

I was back at the Trail.

Like most tours, we started at the relief map, where we describe the valleys. However, something was much more real to me than before. Looking down at the man-made mountain tops, I now knew where and how these valleys flowed. Although one could spend a lifetime trying to learn every crag and valley path, my journey had allowed me a perspective unique to anything previously thought. As I pointed to the various places, I pulled out my device and opened the gallery, then with pictures displaying in hand, I waved above those points relative to the pictures to bring alive the crude landscape below; it was amazing.

“You need to make that part of the display,” exclaimed one of the leaders.

As we stood watching, one by one, we saw the valleys come to life even before we left the Visitor’s Center.

From there, my previous script for presenting the Trail began to change. The reality from which the exhibits on the Trail were created now had new meaning and purpose. Beyond what was before us, the story behind the story became more concrete, more vivid. From ages of third grade to adult, our tour group listened intently at each new scene before them. Their questions kept bringing to light, additional details that were too important to leave out. What once seemed relevant, and meaningful seemed to diminish in what really was at stake; sharing how the Word was protected, preserved, and evangelized so that all might come to know the one true, living God.

Having been in the real cave with a communion, I was worried that there would be a fakeness to the Trail’s cave which might deter feelings I had once experienced almost every tour. When the group began to sing “Holy, Holy, Holy,” the fear quickly disappeared. The tiny little voices mixed with those of the adults made a chorus that was heaven divine. My faith was restored once more.

As we passed through the doors of the church, my mind once more wondered how this too might change. Would it seem less than before? We would soon know.

While sharing the story of the Ciabas and the history behind it, everything seemed the same, up until one of the leaders asked how I had found out I was Waldensian. That’s when things changed once again.

Standing in front of little ones, I was worried about the length of time it might take to share my personal story. Yet, as I began, my eyes kept searching for signs of boredom, idleness, or sleep; there were none. It was as if they were rapt with the moment, so I kept going. Before long, my heart was overflowing as the Holy Spirit poured forth. As my eyes filled with tears of emotion, there was not much more one could say, other than, “Thanks be to God.”

On a beautiful, clear Carolina day, a sweet group of children and adults found their way to a place where a man once called his job, although it really wasn’t a job, because that is something you do for work. If you love what you do, you’ll never work another day; and so it was. But God had plans to push us further than we often think we can go, and usually more than we think we can handle. We may never know where and how He is using us. On this one particular day in June, God’s pathway put us together, where the Lord led us all to the Trail of Faith. He united a wonderful group called the “Wilderness Scouts,” with a former Director and tour guide, who now is simply a servant of the Lord. The result from this servant’s perspective was Godly.

“For we were once darkness, but now we are light, live as children of the light…”

As one of the leaders expressed as they were about to leave, “It was another God-chance.”

And to that, all one can say is, “Amen.”

Thanks be to God.

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