Tag Archives: Word of God

by | June 6, 2021 · 9:07 pm

A Beautiful Future for Evangelism

“And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.”- Mark 16:15,

Yesterday was another day touring visitors at the Trail of Faith, and as almost always is the case, another day of receiving more blessings than those that could have possibly been given. Students from a summer camp program had come to tour the Trail. Their home church was in Puerto Rico, so they were bilingual, speaking Spanish primarily amongst themselves. They had been studying Waldensian history and using it as an inspiration to go forth into communities evangelizing the Word of God. This was the first group that I had ever known to have been actively recreating the actual acts of those ancient Waldensian peoples, so already, from the get-go, they had my attention and utmost respect.

As we made our way from one exhibit to the next, there grew a growing sense of camaraderie. From the beginning to the very end, I kept purposely reminding them that our goal for the day was not to lift up these ancient peoples, nor ancestry, nor any of this history, but that the primary and most important thing for them to take away was that God should be the center of their lives and that the Word of God was to be revered and protected with all our hearts. But, in a sense, I kept telling myself, you’re preaching to the choir. These kids, yes to me, they were still children being ages high school to college, were already walking the walk that sometimes takes many of us a lifetime to reach.

When we took time in the cave to sing, they chose, entirely on their own without an adult leader, to sing Amazing Grace in English. As they sang, their youthful spirit filled the darkest crevices of that earthen sanctuary. The echoes of distant voices reverberated through my being, and we could all feel the Holy Spirit indwell at that moment. One can never fully convey that feeling when it happens, but you can only be thankful for those brief moments of its presence.

As we entered into the Ciabas Church, we slowly entered after discussing the inscription above the front door and how well they had read it, unlike most classes of their age. Making our way up the gray, slate floor to the front, they began looking for the clue that I had asked them before entering to find what was missing. Their curious voices filled the air, as one by one, they asked a multitude of answers but had obviously noticed the solution. I confirmed that yes, they had answered correctly, that there was no cross. As they found their seats, one of the young men asked if he could play the piano. Another student piped in, “He’s very good.” Gladly, I shook my head, yes, and he sat down and began to play the piece that had been left on the stand before him. “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” The beautiful strains of the old piano, slightly out of tune, began to fill those empty passages of the recreated church. The sound echoed off the walls masterfully. Once more, feeling the Spirit, I found myself walking around to the back of the church and circling back up from behind as if I were in a distant dream, far away in another time. Again, I cannot convey to you how mesmerizing and inspiring this group made me feel. Blessings kept flowing like waters from the mountainside.

We continued on through history and the stories of unimaginable massacres, imprisonments, and forced marches into exile through the harshest, most deadly weather. As we made our way, their attention never wavered, their respect for the story never faltered. Having led many groups of students in the past, an adult was usually present, and by the later stages of the tour, were having to remind some of their students to pay attention. That was never the case with these young people. The more I shared, the more my heart went out to them and how respectful they were of what was being told.

Later on in the tour, while most of the group was inside one of the last exhibits looking around, a young man came up to me, and with tear-brimmed eyes, said, “You really have a heart for this, don’t you?” As he said this, he motioned to the Trail. I knew what he meant, as we both understood the connection to God through the story that had been shared that day. You see, when your life becomes a mirror to the history of a people that gave their lives to share God’s word in a place that was as formidable, harsh, and unforgiven to live as it was in their time and then to survived persecution from enemies against what you did, it was no matter that we had connected beyond the story.

As Jesus became one with his disciples, there should be the same sense with us today with our brethren in our own church communities. Our love of brother and sister should emanate like a beacon of light, as does God’s love for us. Giving our heart through the story of the gospels, no matter if it is being told through the history of the church or through the words in the Gospels, we must seek him with all our heart. It is then, and only then, when we know God and put Him first and foremost in our lives, that all else will fall into place.

Yes, it never fails that when we seek to share the Word of God with others, we often receive more of a blessing than we conceive of those to whom we share. “Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”- Mt. 5:15-16

Seek Him first, share His Word, and plant the seeds of salvation for all to receive.

From seeing these young people, and knowing that their passion for evangelizing has already began at such a young age, one can’t help to be comforted by knowing that the future of God’s great commission is in good hands.

Thanks be to God.

Mt. 28:19-20, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.”

Acts 13:47, “For so hath the Lord commanded us, saying, I have set thee to be a light of the Gentiles, that thou shouldest be for salvation unto the ends of the earth.”

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by | August 18, 2019 · 8:38 pm

The Road Taken…

Robert Frost so famously wrote in the final lines of his poem, “The Road Not Taken,” “…Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

Plunge Basin Trail, Linville Falls – Blueridge Parkway

As I stand at another crossroads of my own, God has prepared an unusual circumstance, in that both roads in my journey are “the one less traveled,” regardless of which one I choose. Unlike Frost’s divergence, where one path eventually proves morally significant over the other, with my choice, each has the potential to share the Word of God in the duties required. In other words, they both have the ability to become blessings to others, in that I will be serving the Lord on either journey; and that, yes, that fact truly makes all the difference.

As a matter of confirmation, I was afforded an opportunity to interview with a school the first part of this week. I had just got through sharing my testimony with a friend when the phone rang. Like Abraham at the altar, Isaac lying bound below his knife blade, the feeling of his muscles’ s tightening in his shoulders as he was about to drive the blade into his son; my path seemed perfectly clear, the decision to follow through with what God had provided was made, there was no turning back. But then, in my case, the phone rang. In Abraham’s, God sent an Angel of the Lord. The parallel, as it ran through my mind, literally made me laugh as I answered the call. The caller was from a school that I had applied for many months ago, so it was a bit of a surprise when they called Monday morning asking if I could come in Tuesday for the interview. Knowing that God has prepared one path already, I was a bit hesitant, but thought that at least I should perform my due diligence.

“Was this God seeing how committed I was to finally accepting the position at the Children’s Home, and then providing me an opportunity to go on to a job that would allow me to more easily provide for my family?” “Was this like Abraham, where he could see that I was going to follow through with it, no matter the cost?”

It was with these questions in mind that I drove to the school the next day for the interview. I felt wonderful, and it was a beautiful day; clear blue skies, low humidity, and a feeling inside that God was with me, no matter what. The interview went very well, and it seemed that I was always one step ahead on the panel’s questions. They told me before I left that they would have an answer within a couple days. By the next morning, Wednesday they had made a decision; one that didn’t include me.

In many ways, the news was a relief. I thanked God out loud, for it was as if He had chosen for me. He knows us better than we know ourselves, and that being the case, would understand how hard it would be for me to decide between the two. Comforted once more that God is in control, I returned to work on the Retreat; there was always one more thing to be done.

Thursday came, and once more, there was another knock on the door.

I opened the email, and there was another opportunity to interview with another potential employer that I had applied for many weeks earlier. They had moved my application to the next round of the selection process, which meant they were giving me 72 hours to perform the interview and submit it for review. Once again, making sure I performed my due diligence, I logged into the web site on Friday and began answering the question. Before beginning, I prayed that if this was God’s way of holding the best until last, then so be it, but that I was already more than well pleased with the choice He had provided. The questions were not of the customary type, but rather, asked things like, “How do you grow and maintain your walk with Christ?” “What was your personal testimony with regard to accepting Christ, and how have you continued that walk?” In each case, there was so much I wanted to share, but the challenge was a one-minute time limit on each response. Needless to say, it took a lot of effort to pare down all that I wanted to say and get it to fit into the concise timeframe required.

Thankfully, there was no limit on the amount of time given to think about each question, and as I peered out the vista before me, I began to reflect on all that had transpired this past summer and how it had been one of the most challenging periods of waiting for God to speak to me in my life. My setting for the interview was at the Lodge, a place in our community that literally sits on top of a mountain that provides a 360-degree long-range view of mountains, as far as the eye can see. From my mountain top vantage, there was the feeling of being literally closer to God. One question after another, my reflection kept reminding me that I had never been alone, even when I felt the loneliest. Looking back, those solitary moments were steppingstones to the answers that would play out. In the waiting, there was the feeling that God was working on something big; something that would make it clear there was much to do in order to make it possible. Because, with God, nothing is impossible.

Finally, after the last question, I hit the submit button.

It was done.

Have you ever completed something and wondered how well it went? Did you get the sudden feeling that there many things you hadn’t said that you could have? These questions and others began to form in my mind, but as they did, there was the comforting hand of God upon me, consoling me, assuring me that this was all that was needed. There was nothing left to be done.

Lowering my head in prayer, I began to thank God for the opportunity, regardless if I got the position or not. In my heart, it felt as if God was allowing me to see that He was covering all the bases. Should I finally, and ultimately land at the Children’s Home, I will have the comforting sense of satisfaction knowing that all the other doors of possible paths had been covered and provided. Each one, even though they chose another candidate, allowed me to see that He was listening and that he had put me where he needed me the most. In the end, although I initially felt like Abraham at the altar, I realized that God was just letting me know that there should be no other questions about his desire for me to be where he wants me to serve.

Talk about a feeling of God’s hand upon your very heart; there is no greater satisfaction in this world than knowing you are being cared for by the Almighty God.

In every step of this long summer’s journey, as my ability to provide for my family has diminished; when there was no more job, when we lost our medical insurance when health issues began to arise, God was with us.  He was providing for us in each time of need; albeit finances, medical insurance, health, and strength.

The scripture from 2 Corinthians 4:17-18 keeps coming back to me. It can best summarize the recent course of events in, “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.”

“I must decrease, so that he may increase,” said John the Baptist, and for my walk of faith, it is the same. “When we are at our weakest, he is strongest,” wrote the Apostle Paul, and it has never been clearer in my own life.

Where the next few days, weeks, or months will take me, I cannot say.

But one thing I do know, wherever He leads, I will follow.

And in that, we can most assuredly say, “Thanks be to God.”

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by | June 30, 2019 · 8:57 pm

A Legacy of Faith

Day after day, as one rock is painstakingly placed upon the next, the form of an ancient fireplace begins to take shape. The work keeps my mind off the fact that nobody calls me back from the multitudes of job applications I have submitted to various agencies. Prayers are lifted unceasingly. While working with mud and stone, there is time for the mind to wander and reflect; to commune with God. I am never alone, even when it may seem that I am.

Retreat Stone Fireplace

The work is slow and arduous. There are times it seems as if it will never be completed, so little seems to be accomplished. It was upon these last few words that the dust of intellect and God’s voice settled.

How compelling to see a structure rise up from the ground, knowing that the only access to the site where a building now stands was a trail through the woods. God’s hand was upon me every step. When block and stone began to be set, what seemed to be an incredulous speed of advancement seemingly came to a halt. Now, as the daily heat begins to climb as our calendar advances toward July, the afternoon temperatures began to soar, causing the pace to slow further.

It was on one of these recent sweltering days that the words began to form.

Standing back and looking upon the work of thy hands, God impressed upon me how permanent these stones are versus the rest of the building. The stones are like our faith and the Word of God. We are as dust, here today and gone tomorrow, but the Word of the Lord endureth forever. Who hasn’t driven down some lonesome backroad and happened upon an abandoned old farmhouse. The only evidence being the singular rock chimney built from indigenous stones found nearby. The remainder of the structure, if still there at all, had long ago succumbed to the rigors of rot and decay. Sometimes, the entire chimney is still completely intact; the heart of the old homeplace where often times the food would be cooked and would also be the only source of warmth in the coldest of winter days.

Like that old chimney, the Word of God continues long after the fragile flesh of this world have gone. It should also be the center of our lives. When we are gone, the remembrance of who we were will vanish. All that will often remain of our earthly life is sometimes the work of our hands. “For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.”-Psalm 103:14-16

However, that is not the point, leaving a legacy of ourselves. We might think that what we leave to this world should be like the chimney, a visual reminder, but that would be misguided. Don’t get me wrong, it is more than pleasing for our children, and their children to look upon the work of their ancestors and marvel at something that their ancient hands had created that remains until their day. Rather, what we should prefer is that our legacy points to Jesus and a Christ-centered life.

Those stones of the fireplace, each one carefully placed after being hand chosen, can be thought of as the individual moments in life where what we say or did something either in the Word or in a Christ-like manner, made a lasting impact on someone’s life, in a positive way. No stone is the same; likewise, no two events are ever exactly alike. It takes a multitude of rocks to build the entirety of the fireplace; similarly, life is a never-ending stream of events. In our own minds, they are interrelated, no matter the circumstance. They become forever who we are. Those who we reach in our life’s journey become part of who we are as much as the individual stone becomes part of the fireplace.

The mortar, like God’s word, carefully prepared bonds those moments together, uniting all into a solid, rock-hard formation. If the mortar is too wet, it runs and cannot uphold the next stone; its bond is weak. So too is the Word of God if it is watered down. Too often in today’s world, the church seeks to make God’s word “fit” the audience; make it relevant. That’s okay if it is kept in line with scripture, but the problem arises when it is weakened and altered to “blend” into what is considered acceptable by the world, to the natural man’s desires. When we hear of churches becoming more of an entertainment venue than a soul-saving institution, then we know the mortar has started to run.

From the opposite side of the spectrum, if our mortar is too dry, the stones cannot bond for lack of moisture. When the Word of God is delivered in such a dry, ritualistic manner, it becomes foreign to the listener. The concepts and teachings of Christ must be delivered in such a manner that they may be easily understood but without compromising their meaning. If those receiving the message are not right with God, then they too will be unable to understand; simply going to the show does not allow for reception of the word. “For the heart of this people is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes have they closed; lest they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them.”-Acts 28:27 When the format of the program seeks to follow outdated legalistic procedures that are not biblical, let alone have a purpose, they destroy what the house of God seeks to employ; the presence of the Holy Spirit; the water of life and the moisture in the mortar.

In the end, if the mason has done their job well, the structure they have created will stand the test of time. If a life has been well lived, there should be no regrets. As a life well lived, the Apostle Paul said it best when he said, “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.”

Each stone, each moment in time will have created a living legacy of a Christ-centered life to which many will attest for years to come. If they are equally blessed, there may be a certain fireplace around which they may gather and think of the one who built it, not alone, but in the presence of God.

One could only be so lucky.

Thanks be to God.

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by | September 23, 2018 · 7:44 pm

What Could Be…

We’ve often heard or used the phrase, “Dead-end job.” Whereby, we are referring to an occupation that has no future; no room for growth or lateral movement. Stairs that lead to nowhere are a lot like that. A normal flight of stairs are meant to take us from one level of a building to the next. This past weekend, after cutting and placing stringers for the Spiritual Retreat in place, and then setting the treads down, I sat at the top of the newly erected staircase and looked out at the vast, empty space that awaited on the second floor. My thoughts reflected back to when I had harvested the trees on this very spot a year ago. The stringers from which the stairs are made came from one of those tall pines, some of which still stand tall nearby. That was just one step of many to get to this point. There have been buckets of sweat, copious amounts of blood, and many a restless night’s sleep due to pain between then and now. For the moment, there is no money for flooring for either the lower or upper levels. The wood that had been cut has mostly been used or will be used on other framing aspects. It does not bother me for I know that in time, He will provide. Therefore, my perch only afforded me a vantage point of “What Could Be.”

Sitting at a desk behind stacks of papers to grade or bent over working on the engine of a car as sweat pours into our eyes stinging our vision, we often find ourselves asking the question, “Is this all there is in life?” Or perhaps another, “Where can we go from here?” Likewise, our spiritual life can come to a similar crossroads. All our lives we have spent laboring to build a comfortable world around us; acquiring material wealth, pleasant homes, fancy cars, all to find in the end, we often need very little of all that we have spent a lifetime to amass. In time of solitude, we are often left in moments of recollection, finding that memories are probably the most cherished possession we own. When we look back, we cannot see where we are going. In reflection, we find ourselves sorrowed in that moment. To look back is to see only where we’ve been, not where we are headed, there is a sense of loss; a passing of time that we cannot recover.

Time; once it is gone, it is gone forever.

However, living in the past can only bring sorrow and regret. To turn around and face the future brings new life, a chance to start over for some. Yes, there is a place for which we all should strive to reach, an obtainable goal that was made possible to each of by the most precious sacrifice ever known to mankind: Jesus Christ. We cannot know the Father until we come to know the Son, Jesus. “I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.,” Jesus told his disciples (John 14:6). To gain the glories of heaven, we must first accept Christ into our lives; there is no other way.

Too often, we imagine that we have properly prepared for what is to come. You know the person I’m speaking of, the one who can tell you that they have spent their entire life going to church, they believe they have achieved salvation simply by being in the building, by going through all the rituals necessary; following the letter of the law. When asked further how they know they are going to heaven, you find the wheels begin to fall off their spiritual wagon. Just because you park your vehicle in the garage doesn’t mean it’s a car. Doing deeds or works to obtain heaven is not how we receive His amazing Grace. No, my friend, that is not salvation, that is religion. Religion cannot get you into Heaven, only by the Grace of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ can you be saved and obtain salvation from your sins. By the water and the Spirit, we are saved, and those who receive Him shall have eternal life.

In Genesis 11, mankind built a city and a tower known as Babel. The people were extremely proud of their accomplishment, so much so, that God came down to observe their amazing feat. What he found was that man had believed himself to become an equal with God. They had literally built what they believed was a stairway to heaven. God immediately realize the error of their ways, “and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.” Not only was this a false foundation of achievement, but it was also a structure dedicated to idolatrous worship. The offspring of Noah had once again, as the wicked before the flood, fallen away, taking up the worship of idols, even to the point of dedicating the massive building to a multitude of gods. The peak of the monument was capped with an altar dedicated to the god Bel-Merodach, along with all the signs of the Zodiac.

Many Man-Caves are places men often build in their homes or in outbuildings where they can escape from the world, or as some say, “Get away,” from the rest of the family. Here, they decorate the walls and surroundings with all manner of icons that make them feel happy or comfortable; neon beer signs, sports team logos, and many more images that portray that to which they have become a fan. To become a fan, one must follow a team or sports figure to the point you become “fanatical” about them, hence the term fan. If we look at it from the perspective of the tower of Babel, they have essentially erected their own altar to Bel-Merodach. In essence, their decorations become their worship to other gods as did those in Babel.

Thankfully, the focus of my building, even though someone recently asked if it were to become my Man-Cave, is not of things of this world; rather, it is “What is to come.” As I sat atop the stairs to nowhere, it was apparent that they were only the precursor to, “What will be.” From this point forward, one cannot say what is next other than I know in my heart that from here, my purpose is to serve Him in all that I do. Even in the construction, this mindset has enveloped my every action. Someone asked, “Did you build it all by yourself.” Other than my son and Leroy stopping by occasionally to give me a hand, for the most part, literally the answer would be yes. But in truth, all along, He has been here with me. Even now, as I sit in the twilight hours of day typing by the temporary lights hanging on nails, His Spirit is with me. So, no, truly I’ve never been alone.

The dead-end job for me ended five years ago when I chose to leave everything behind and step into the journey of serving the Lord. That was the first step on the stairway. Since then I have lifted many an often-weary foot upon the next tread. Each time, my view came from a high plane than before.

You must be careful when ascending the flight of stairs. One wrong step can send you tumbling to the bottom or worse, end up in serious harm. Just as physical injury can result from a fall; likewise, if our footsteps in faith are not grounded in the Word of God, we can find ourselves falling away, succumbing to the secular desires of the flesh. It is only with only one sure step at a time that we can advance safely. As my friend Jimmy Clark said today, “God will only give us so much insight, knowledge into the future at a time.” Those footsteps upon the stairwell are very much one in the same.

And you may ask, “Where would that insight, that knowledge come from?”

There is mainly one place that I can direct anyone to answer that question, and that is, “The Bible.” Yes, He may speak to us at times or give us visions, but most assuredly, the most definite place to find guidance from the Father is in the Word of God.

One word at a time.

One step at a time.

Let not your stairway lead to nowhere my friend.

Heaven awaits.

All you have to do is repent of your sins, confess with your mouth, and believe with your heart, and then simply ask, and ye shall receive.

Don’t hesitate.

Tomorrow is too late.

All I can do is share with you how. The rest is up to you and Jesus.

Don’t delay.

My prayer is that everyone who reads this will find Jesus if you have not already done so, and in the end, receive their salvation.

I love you, as the Father hath loved me.

Thanks be to God.

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by | December 23, 2017 · 8:25 am

The Gift…

It is the season of giving.

Yet, in all of the giving, we have often heard, “It is better to give than to receive.” The receiving is where we often struggle, at least I do.

It had been a long week at school. The culmination of events and teaching was the delicious meal provided by Daniel Boone Inn to our faculty and staff. Once the students had all departed, we sat down, and for what had seemed like an eternity, came together as one body, fellowshipping, sharing, and breaking bread together. It was a precious ending to a challenging semester. Afterward, my plans for the day were simple; just do a little Christmas shopping, as much as my meager teacher’s salary would allow, and then later that evening meet with brothers to study God’s word.

As I pulled the door closed behind me and I walked away from my classroom, a thought, or more rather, a command came to mind, “Go spend time alone with Him.” The image of the Christian bookstore down the road instantly flashed in my head, the warm lights, the inviting cushioned chairs, and rows and rows of biblical writings: God. For months I had been hoping to acquire a copy of the 1560 Geneva Bible. But a growing need to have a Bible that allowed me to further study and research the Word in preparation for speaking was becoming more important. So, as I walked out of Watauga High School for the beginning of my Christmas break, my afternoon of relaxation began.

The darkness seemed to come quicker. It was the day before the winter solstice, and as such, nightfall was sooner than I had recalled in recent weeks, or was it more like I was passing time in a manner to which I was unaccustomed? As I pulled into the parking lot of the Cornerstone Christian Bookstore, the warm, glowing lights from within painted a picture of a Thomas Kincaid painting, welcoming me in. From having visited the store many times before, I knew exactly where I wanted to go, but just stepping inside the doors, it was as if I had been welcomed home.

From that point forward, time seemed to slow to a crawl and then stopped.

There was the 1560 Geneva Bible, but the need, or He, pushed me to another aisle, to go where was my purpose that called. There was literally a KJV row, all to its own. “Unbelievable,” I mused to myself. The ancient voices smiled in my heart. As I opened one Bible after another to compare, I made it a point to use the gospel of John; it was important to compare apples, to apples.  Like a kid in a candy store, I was surrounded by a plethora of choices, all good, all exciting. Like no other time in the history of what I knew, I could literally stand amongst stacks of God’s Word, all with same words, but all different in their format. Like the students in our classrooms, all different, but all special in their own way. Beautiful covers that protected the insides were as luxurious as were those precious letters within. He was all around me, and I was with Him.

One by one other shoppers passed. At first their presence didn’t break through my focus, but eventually, that voice once more said, “I send you out into the world not to keep my Word a secret, but share, yes, share.” Like a sleeper awakening from a deep sleep, I began trying to talk to those passing shoppers. Cordially they responded, and each began a conversation as if we had known one another for some time, each of us there as one, because of Him.

Time was not in my immediate thoughts, but aware in the back of my mind of my upcoming meeting, I pulled out my phone and checked the time. The display read something, but it didn’t click. There was no focus now for where or what was later. It was as if He was erasing everything beyond the walls of the store; He wanted me all to his own, like a selfish lover, just He and I.

Another shopper, another conversation on the Word before me and soon, I began spilling the truth like hot, fresh coffee for a welcome friend. The lady to whom I spoke last had a connection to one of the men with whom I was about to go meet. In fact, the similarities in our unknown paths quickly made the hair begin to stand up on the back of my neck, and the chill bumps rise on my flesh. Even now in this writing, I can feel that moment once more. It was as if God had placed us there to meet for His purpose. She too was interested in the exact same version that I was beginning to settle on. However, there was only one with tabs, something else that was quickly growing on me.

To understand the significance of this choice, I would have to go back a full year, but suffice it to say, that same man that I was meeting of whom I’ve already spoken, had suggested it one year before. Yet, in my

procrastination to buy it, the name had slipped my mind. Searching my device for the name, for which I knew I had taken note, I couldn’t find it anywhere. So, with a faint feeling of confirmation, it had become my focus. When the lady said that her husband would use it to preach, I demanded she take it, for there was none other like it on the shelf. She insisted no, that there would certainly be another one possibly in their back room. I acquiesced, but begrudgingly, after all, it seemed God had crossed our paths for a reason.

I placed the beautiful new Bible back in its box and in a dream-like manner and walked toward the check-out counter to pay. All of this time, the price of the book had not seemed to register. It was much more than I had available in my budget for a gift. Then there was this unobtrusive thought that had preceded my visit, “You need to get a gift for yourself a reward, if you will, for making it through another semester.” Yet, the unselfish part of me quipped, “It was a gift for me, from me?” Questions that would normally surface seemed to have vanished as I now faced the counter and placed it in the hands of the cashier.

“Can I get my name engraved,” I asked. Years earlier I had purchased another Bible here, and the purchase included name engravings.

“Certainly,” she smiled.

“Do you happen to have another copy like this one, with tabs in the back,” I continued, “There was a lady over there that wanted one for her husband, but this was the only one we saw on the shelf.”

“I can check,” she said and stepped away returning shortly, “No, that was the only one.”

“Okay,” I looked down at the floor, and the words from the lady returned, “It is God’s will that you have it.”

Before she began ringing it up, she asked how I would like my name spelled on the cover. After she wrote down my response, she then continued putting the purchase into the computer. I pulled out my wallet and decided upon the piece of plastic this would fit. That faint feeling of guilt began to surface.

“Should I really be doing this?”

Before my logical side could answer the voice behind the counter said something and began to walk away with the Bible to the back to get it engraved. The words she used didn’t make sense. I stood there unsure of what to do next. I looked back down at the credit card that was pulled out, then back at the counter where the empty box lay. The world in that moment seemed to stop, there was no sound, no music, nothing.

The voice repeated in my head, “It’s taken care of.”

“Did she mean it was rung up? But I don’t recall handing her my credit card, or did I?”

That feeling of losing control mused with one of fear, apprehension of not understanding, all spiraled around me while I stood there dumbfounded at what to do next. People in line at the other register continued on like their world had never changed. Soon enough she returned and was carrying the empty box to the gift as she reached to continue the transaction on the screen before her. I presented my credit card toward her, and she said, “It’s been taken care of.”

“It,..it what,” I stammered in an odd questioning tone?

Time passed, her demeanor changed, and she became that Kindergarten teacher trying to reach a child who just doesn’t get it.

“Sir, your Bible has been paid for.” She smiled, and my heart melted

It was as if the hand of God reached down and lifted me up at that moment. Years of struggle, the voices of those ancient martyrs, the dark valleys through which we have trod, all came rushing back. I felt myself wanting to fall to my knees, but something kept me upright. I stumbled toward the side of the counter. “I must reach a chair soon,” I thought to myself, “or else I’m going to make a scene.” Pausing at the opening to the check-out, I gurgled through welling eyes and choked throat to the cashier, “I’ve..got…to…go…sit….down.” Before I could reach the chairs by the fireplace, tears were streaming down my face faster than I could wipe them away.

“This is not happening.”

“I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy,” were the words that came again and again. The questions flowed like the river from my eyes, but there were no answers.

“Get it together,” I told myself, “Come on kid, you’ve got to receive, …you’ve got to receive.”

We hear of people paying it forward. Those lines in the drive-through where you go to pay and someone behind you or in front of you had already paid for your meal. But this time, this was much more than a meal. This was many more times the value of any Happy Meal. This was beyond the food for the body; but rather, food for the soul.

One of my pastor friends once told me, “In our walk, we must also learn to receive as well as to give. We become a blessing to others, as well as to ourselves.”

But then again, in our walk of becoming Christians, we must also learn that part of our salvation in Christ is that we receive Him.

The greatest gift of all is receiving Jesus Christ into your heart.

There I sat, weeping uncontrollably as He once more came into my life.

“Yes, thank you God,” I whispered, as the gift was given.

Eventually, I regained control of my emotions enough to stand and recompose myself at the water fountain. Not wanting to make eye contact with anyone, I looked at anything inanimate, trying to keep my mind off of this moment as much as possible.

“Come on, get it together,” I kept telling myself.

There was movement to the side of me, and here she came, the cashier with the Bible in her hand. She didn’t speak, but held it out before me, and looked up. It was then I could see her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, “Here it is.” She placed it into the box and put the lid on, then handed it to me.

She began sobbing.

Once more I lost control as tears began streaming down my cheeks. We hugged and began thanking God together.

“This will be a wonderful Christmas,” she whispered through her crying.

“Thanks be to the Lord,” I tried to reply.

As we walked to the door, it was all I could do to recompose myself enough to find the entrance. As we said our goodbyes, the last thing I can recall saying was, “This is truly a Godsend.”

She answered, “Amen.”

As I walked into the coming night, it was apparent why He had sent me to the bookstore. It was never meant to be a gift from me.

It was a gift from God.

Thanks be to God.

“And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us and we beheld his Glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. John bared witness and cried, saying, “This is He of whom I spaketh, “There is one who has come after me, he was preferred before me, for He was before me. And of his fullness have all we received, and grace for grace.”-John 1: 14-15

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by | April 18, 2017 · 10:14 pm

A Sunrise, An Easter, A Moment in Time…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is Risen, He is Risen Indeed.

Thanks be to God.

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by | March 26, 2017 · 8:17 pm

Truth Led by the Spirit…

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, And whose hope is the Lord. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, Which spreads out its roots by the river, And will not fear when heat comes; But its leaf will be green, And will not be anxious in the year of drought, Nor will cease from yielding fruit.”-Jeremiah 17:7-8

There is no day now that I do not realize the blessings set before me.

What I have found is that,… I am not alone.

As my journey leads me through this new world of education, I’m finding there are many like myself; searching for our purpose in a place we never envisioned ourselves working. We have been placed somewhere where we often admired those that served in the capacity of teacher or educator but never saw ourselves as stepping into that role; not until now. Again and again, there are reassurances that in everything we do, no matter the scale of the task, there is purpose in all that we do when we walk in faith. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, evidence of things unseen,” Hebrews 11:1 tells us. We do not have to see what we have to know we have faith. Each day, as we stand before the multitude of the young people, we can feel a thousand eyes fixed upon us, the minds waiting for instruction, listening to everything that is spoken, every action that is made whether it be purposeful or happen chance. In all that we do, we are leading even when we fail to speak a word. In all that we do, there is purpose.

A good friend and retired pastor, Barry Mahorney, sent me a link to an excellent documentary titled, “Lineage.” In at least three of the episodes, they share the story of the people of the valleys, the Waldensians. Due to circumstances beyond my control, for I had succumbed to following wherever the Lord leads, and as such, my schedule was overflowing with blessings so that I only recently was finally able to watch the long-sought video. What I saw had an impact upon me that was mind numbing.

There was a gripping force upon my soul that would not release my thoughts until I began to try to put them in words. Yet, there was too much emotion to try to capture with pen and paper.

When I attempt to conceptualize what might happen when I reach that far distant land, emotions begin to overtake me. There is almost a perceptible whisper that beckons to call me close, a voice that will speak to me from those granite walls of those hallowed caves. The sheer magnitude of what lies beyond and in that place will certainly be life-changing, this much I know. Yet, there was an immediate takeaway that nearly left me breathless. The host of the show pointed out that those Waldensians of old not only went out, as God had commanded the original disciples to do, to witness to the world, but they purposely went out to other places of education in order to purposely share the gospels, whether they were permitted to do so or not. In other words, their actions were more than just evangelizing, they were purposely infiltrating the darkness with the light, the Word of God.

It was at that moment that I could see how and what my purpose had become.

As I’ve told many, when I began writing the first book, “Bruecke to Heaven,” it started as a place that I would go to in my writing, a “There,” if you will. The “Here” was where I lived in the real world. However, with time, after I answered my calling, the line between “There” and “Here” began to blur. As each footstep took me down the path of God’s purpose, it seemed more and more as if I was becoming part of the book; yes, I was truly becoming one with my ancestors. It was then the unfathomable thought surfaced, I was finally there, on the mountain, teaching others and once more serving a purpose that had been done before, sharing the light in the world of darkness.

There had been no conscious effort on my behalf to achieve this point in my life. No, it had all been by God’s design, one piece of a massive puzzle falling into place after another.

A second book awaits the hands of the editor, to eventually come to the world. In that book, the challenges faced in the first book pale in comparison. With each new turn in the changes in my life, those before also pale in comparison. Parallels that one could only imagine now become a reality for me each day. The two edges of the sword are clearer than ever before. Again, the voice inside speaks and says that once my feet trod upon that ancient ground, there will be yet another volume to add to the collection of words from which the Lord will have spoken through me in spite of me.

Truth is led by the Spirit, and with those Words, we live by a truth unobtainable in the world around us. We live by another code that is not of this place, but of another. Because of Him, we have been granted entrance into that eternal abode where we will dwell side by side. But until we are called home, we must serve with every ounce of fortitude within our being. To seek the highest ground, to scale the mountain tops, to reach the unreachable in order to share with those that would heretofore not have had the opportunity to hear the Word; this is our mission.

Thanks be to God.

To learn more about my upcoming mission trip in June, please go to Mission to R.I.D.E.

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by | June 25, 2016 · 9:03 pm

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by | February 26, 2016 · 10:57 pm

Listening with Open Hearts…

“Listen to counsel and receive instruction, That you may be wise in your latter days.”-Proverbs 19:20

Listening.

Something I seek to do more of these days. images4NIA922Q

Yes, hearing those around us speak and sometimes not speak; sometimes the latter being louder than the former.

This past week there were stories so tragic, so heart wrenching that they brought tears to my eyes as my brethren shared them with me. More than once I found myself biting my lower lip in order to retain my composure, often failing to do so in the end. Each one imprinting upon my soul another unforgettable memory; an indelible mark upon my soul.

As we listen, we allow those who are suffering and mourning to share and heal. Yet, sometimes the empathy we want to evoke is more painful that even our own mental capacities can bear. A young mother of two losing her husband, a firefighter, was just one instance. The incomprehensible phone call at one in the morning describing the name of your son having died in a wreck yet another. Wiping away the horror of the reality of the tragic news not being a dream and then realizing there was more than one person by that name in your family, then being unsure, having to ask the question again and again, “Which one, which one?” Then the unexplainable and unbearably painful task of telling a loved one of their precious loss; to a mother, a daughter and her children.

There are days in my life that I wonder why God puts the best people in what seems to be harm’s way. Why do the good die young? Why does God allow evil to remain?

I recalled my grandmother’s words at the wake of my dear cousin Michael, only 21 years of age when he died the horrific death of flowerjarelectrocution. As we sat around her kitchen table, somber, mourning and heartbroken, she sat a single flower in a glass of water in the middle of the table. We watched, not knowing, just looking at an action that seemed methodical in nature not realizing there was a purpose. She looked at the flower a moment and then looked up and then at each of us young children and said these words, “Sometimes God has to pick the prettiest flower in the meadow to use in the master’s bouquet.” Somewhere from above, we could feel Michael smiling down upon us at that moment. Suddenly, we felt a little better.

And still, I continued to listen.

There were stories of tragedies so painful that they haunt their keepers years later. A mother recalled how they had rushed to the scene of the incident to find their son passed. The mystery still surrounding the death, the uncertainty and the cause wrapping themselves around the pain until they are nearly impossible to separate. The brother whose soul is tormented by questioning himself, “If only I had been there with him, if only.” The dreams and visions that followed were almost as difficult to hear as the initial loss. With time, one would think the memories would fade, but when the edge of the sword is sharpened through the pain, the lessons learned are not soon forgotten. With each miraculous tale, there was another thread of hope beginning to emerge, as if a light burning from the darkest recesses of our minds.

And still I listened more.

Through one tale after another, I keep an ear open and want to so badly lift the burden from their shoulders, the darkness from their hearts and the despair from their souls. Yet, to try to do it alone is impossible, for there is only One who is capable and to Him we must call in these times of utter anguish and pain. There is only one that is the light unto men, for we were all once darkness, but now we are light.

Time and time again, I hear good people being dragged through the hell of this world until there seems no hope, no reason to carry on. Yet, I try to remind them, the sword cannot be folded on the Master’s anvil without the heat of the forge, burning, searing the metal of our beings until we can withstand the pounding of His hammer as he reshapes us into the new persons we must become. When we give our lives over to Christ, we must die to our former selves and allow ourselves to be remolded, remade in His image. It is never easy, and it will take everything you have within you to make the transformation.

Imagine as Christ died on the cross, the ultimate physical ravages his body underwent before death welcomed Him into the grave. Yes, death was only temporary, for He was lifted up again in resurrection and now sits at the right hand of the Father Almighty, unto which we all may seek if we only accept Him into our lives and confess with our mouths and believe with our hearts that He died for our sins.

If we knock, the door shall open.

If we listen, He shall speak.

Listening with an open heart and mind.

This is what I seek to do.

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by | December 5, 2015 · 10:55 am

Can’t Spell Holiday without Holy….

 

lightsAs many rush through this season of joy and giving, we often hear the moniker, “Don’t forget the reason for the Season,” referring to Jesus Christ’s birth. Yet, as many seek to find ways to share and give, many forget that in order to fully “Feel” the reason for the Season; you must first have the Holy Spirit.

Too often in this drive-thru dinner, black Friday sales, head-long-rush to make all the parties, fill all the expected duties we forget the most important thing, sharing the Holy Spirit with those whom we encounter, everywhere and anywhere. Did you ever ask yourself why you were frantically dashing to and fro, finding yourself wore down to a frazzle at the end of each day, each one becoming darker sooner? Is there no end? Did you ever feel a gigantic let down after all the presents are opened on Christmas morning, especially when the little ones ask, “Did we get them all?”

Last night at the Trail of Faith, we shared with many the Word of God while experiencing the joy of electrical illumination. While it took us several weeks and lots of work to get the 100,000 plus lights up, there is still the day-to-day work of making sure they all stay on. As I would look out the window to make sure none of the lights would trip a breaker and that all were dutifully remaining lit, I had to think how much brighter the light within may shine if only we open ourselves to witness as we are expected. Matthew 28:19, the Great Commission, tells us to go out and build disciples for Christ unto all nations. How much more do we need to know? Sharing the Word is our opportunity to spread the true light, the Word of God. This light has no breaker, other than our self-imposed restrictions causing us to fear opening our mouths to speak the gospel to strangers. How much more beautiful would this time of year be than to know you gave the most precious gift of all, Salvation?

As we carry on these next few weeks take time to paus. Yes, take time to mention to someone, “Have you felt the Holy in the Holiday yet?” Use it as a springboard to share the gospel and maybe, just maybe bring a little more brightness to someone’s day.

“Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” – Matthew 28:19

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