Traveling the Rock Road

Rusty was one of those guys from my grade school days that I’ve never forgotten; mostly from the bruises he left on me that finally healed up in the last few years! It was obvious from his looks and size that he was older than your typical six grader, it was even rumored that Rusty had been held back so many times he was only student that was allowed to go in the teacher’s lounge for coffee and a smoke break. All kidding aside though we all knew that you didn’t want to get caught alone by old Rusty because his two favorite pastimes were shaking kids down for money and hurting them, and not necessarily in that order. I don’t know how many times I left school as if I was going home to eat lunch (Yes, young folks, we used to be able to do that) and walk around for awhile because Rusty had helped himself to my lunch money. Like me he wasn’t very good in school and I remember occasions when I answered something wrong in class and everyone would laugh. But if Rusty did same you’d best keep quiet; laughing at him was like signing your own death warrant. So as many of you know that’s life when dealing with a card carrying member of “Bullies are Us!” Dedicating as many years as I did to working with kids, it was always a question to me on just why these rabble rousers enjoyed causing pain to others. Talking to professionals and reading much material on the subject, I must have come across dozens of conclusions as to why certain kids acted this way. One similar thread seemed to run through the majority of theories though, and that was insecurity.

As hard as it seemed to think of Rusty as insecure (as he was putting knots all over my head), the more it makes sense now that I look back to those days. That assumption of my “pal” Rusty came to roost in a place and setting I never thought I’d see him. Rusty was just one of the reasons my early days weren’t the happiest, but there was one place I did enjoy being. Come Sunday I would be with a youth group at a local church in my adopted hometown. There things were more laid back than school and I got along fine with most of the kids. But the bests thing; no thugs like Rusty to strike terror to the heart; at least that’s what I thought, or hoped, or prayed!

I was sitting in a row talking to a friend and didn’t pay attention to who had just sat next to me. That is until “BAM!” right in the arm. It wasn’t as devastating a blow as to the sight of who delivered; there smiling at me dressed in an ill fitted suit was Rusty. “Hey Miller, I didn’t know you went to church here, this friend of my mom’s brought me and I’ll be here every Sunday.” My mouth got the words out, “That’s cool Rusty.” But my heart was yelling “My God, why have you forsaken me!!” I considered my options, like running out to the building screaming at the top of my lungs. No, I feared he would just catch me and if I stayed put, at least there would be witnesses to his deeds. Then the thought occurred, lure him upstairs, hit him in the head with a chair and throw his carcass out the window! Nope, that wouldn’t work either; he was too big for me to pick up. The only option left was to find a way to make the best of a bad situation. Being new there were a lot of things Rusty didn’t know, so I told him a lot about the youth group, what we were studying, where to find answers in our workbooks and so forth. Things actually went pretty well until I realized something one day; I was the only person talking to Rusty, no one else would bother to even say hi. He came several Sundays in row, but then quit. I asked him at school why he wasn’t coming anymore. “What for, those snobs don’t want me there.” I tried to convince him that wasn’t true, but he wouldn’t hear it so I thought I’ll just say something to some of the guys at church and prove him wrong. I’m not sue I can describe the feeling I had when I found he wasn’t wrong. Several made it clear they were glad he quit coming, one even told me, “We don’t need ones like him around here.” We don’t need ones like him around here; those words rang in my ears for some time. Well if the likes of Rusty weren’t welcome, then who was? Didn’t Jesus say something to the effect that He came to earth for the sick and not the healthy, in other words the ones who need Him most (Mark 2:17), like Rusty!

The grand old preacher Billy Graham answers it this way; “We are the Bibles the world is reading; We are the creeds the world is needing; We are the sermons the world is heeding.” And “God has given us two hands – one to receive with and the other to give with. We are not cisterns made for hoarding; we are channels made for sharing.”

Now I’m not trying to throw off on my old Sunday School group because they didn’t like Rusty, remember I already admitted I didn’t want him there when he first showed. But I’m left to wonder how many chances do we who call ourselves Believers, miss out on telling and showing others about the One we call Lord because of a perception or mind-set. Possibly what’s missed is the fact that none of us are really any better than Rusty in God’s eyes; “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

I can’t say my little contribution to Rusty when he came to church did anything or not, but I can tell you this; he never laid a hand on me again after that. Just a thought. After grade school Rusty and I never really saw each other again, but I’ve thought about him often; what happened to him, and did he ever seek Christ again. Only God knows.

But over the course of “Traveling the Rock Road,” I’ve had numerous Rustys cross my path. The easy thing would be to keep walking and ignore them in hopes they’d go away. But there’s this nagging voice in the back of my mind that calls out, “You know he was good enough for Jesus to shed His blood on the cross, just like he did for you. If he’s good enough for Jesus, isn’t he good enough for a little of your time?”

Just a thought Friends and Family,

See Ya Next Time!!

Clyde Lenhart or Clyde-E as we referred to him was one of five children in a well-known family back in Fremont, Ohio. They owned a thriving construction company prominent in the region. Clyde’s older brother was a popular musician in the area and had quite a following. The whole family was well-liked and outgoing. Clyde, on the other hand, had a severe hearing problem which left him at a definite disadvantage so he generally remained quiet and was even seen as somewhat backwards. His family was not always good for his morale telling him often he would never amount to anything. But Clyde E. was far from dumb and God had special plans for this “Traveler of the Rock Road.

Clyde dropped out of school in his teens and joined the Navy to do his part in the war effort going on in Europe and the Pacific. He was assigned to an aircraft carrier that was preparing for a great battle. But before that occurred he took violently ill and had to be taken off the ship and left at a hospital in Hawaii. But as I said God had a purpose for Clyde’s life and it wasn’t a great sea battle. The ship sailed on and was involved in one of the biggest sea battles of WW2, the Battle of Guam where half the men on his ship would lose their lives.

Returning from the war, Clyde would meet and fall in love with Bette Smith; they would marry in July of 1947 and stay together until the Lord called them home. Both dearly wanted a family, but due to an earlier injury in her life, sadly child bearing would become physically impossible for Bette. Making the decision to try and adopt, they obtained information on a little girl up for adoption in a nearby town, and as you’ve probably figured out by now Clyde E. became my father, the greatest dad a little girl could be blessed with.

As I mentioned, and contrary to his family’s opinion, Dad was gifted with many skills too numerous to mention. He was a carpenter, mechanic, plumber, electrician, even a natural mathematician (Pretty awesome fact about a man that never finished high school and whose family told him he was dumb!– a true jack of all trades who could literally make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, to coin an old phrase. I remember getting a stroller for Christmas one year that Dad had picked up at the dump. He straightened the frame, painted it and installed new wheels while mom sewed a new seat and canopy. He remodeled all of our home at various times, built a garage, bought old cars and restored them on the outside as well as repairing engine problems. Once the cars were repaired and painted, Dad would set them out in front of the house to sell. He had such a steady hand at painting that he actually painted the cars with a hand brush and you would have to look very closely to see even the hint of a brush stoke. Dad was so honest; he always told everything that had been wrong with the cars and what he had done to repair them. It sure didn’t hinder sales. He never failed to get rid of them. I remember him tearing out the seats of an old school bus and transforming it into a camper, which we drove all the way to New York on vacation.

As I said at the beginning, Dad was a quiet man with a meek sprit. Part of that, if you knew my folks, was probably because mom was quite domineering making it hard to get a word in edgewise and so I think my Dad pretty much gave up trying. In retrospect, I wish that I had tried to draw him out for in many ways I did not know him. John was very fortunate because while they would hang out in the garage together away from the women-folk, he and Dad would actually have opportunity to talk.

Dad was always the one who would play games with me, take me fishing, swimming, roller skating and drive me places I needed to go before I could drive. I remember one time we went out on our boat to fish on Lake Erie. Dad knew just where he wanted to go and when we got there, he dropped anchor, got our poles out and barely got started fishing when looking a little green around the gills, I said, “Dad, I don’t feel so good.” Without any anger or frustration, he pulled up anchor and set out for home.

Dad was never the disciplinarian of the family. I think he was he was afraid I wouldn’t like him if he punished me, so mom took on that responsibility. Nonetheless, I learned so many great things from my Dad.  He had a great work ethic—he never missed work unless he was on death’s door. He was a man of great integrity, honesty and kindness. No matter that his family had treated him poorly; he didn’t hate them or treat them badly when they called him to ask for favors. He just went and helped them without asking anything in return. What a godly example he was to me.

Even though Dad was humble in his ways and manners it certainly was no deterrent for him being the spiritual leader of our little family. He loved his Lord deeply and his easy ways and personally spoke volumes to me on what the Christian life and following Jesus was all about.

Galatians 5:22-23 – “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”  Or as another individual put it; “Meekness is not weakness, just strength under control”

Not long after Dad retired, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He went through chemotherapy and radiation treatments and lived another year. That year was not good physically speaking, but still in the fashion of Clyde E. Lenhart you heard little complaining. God was gracious and we were home the weekend Dad died. I remember the last time I saw him from the hallway outside his bedroom. He was now too weak to talk but he gave me his best smile, his way of saying, “Never forget how much you mean to me, and how much I love you.” The next morning it was John who found that Dad, in his same quiet fashion had slipped away to Heaven. Dad is waiting for us in Heaven now. I’m so anxious to see both he and my mom who has now gone on also.

In closing I’d like to share with you a poem I wrote for Dad after he went Home to be with Jesus.

When I used to think of heaven

And its streets of shining gold,

I was anxious to go thru its gates

and meet the saints of old.

To walk and talk with Jesus

will be joy beyond compare.

To be in His presence always

of His goodness ever share.

But now the Gates of Glory

an added treasure hold.

For my Father has gone there to live

His face I’ll soon behold.

Blessings to you and your loved ones,

Cathy

This past Mother’s Day was the typical happy occasion in the Miller home as we took a moment to give honor to my Lady who is so richly deserving and also to celebrate the other two mothers in our family, our daughter, Jamie and daughter-in-law, Traci. The time would not be complete if we didn’t take a moment to remember mine and Cathy’s mothers who are now with Jesus. But this year’s occasion was met with a mixture of sadness and joy at the sudden loss of Cathy’s other mother, the one we lovingly referred to as Mom Phyl.

It may sound a little confusing for some of you, but if you have been regular readers of “Traveling the Rock Road,” you learned from earlier writings that my Lady was adopted at age 3 from an orphanage in Ohio by Clyde and Bette Lenhart. Phyllis (Mom Phyl) gave birth to Cathy at a young age and made a wise decision to give her up for adoption. At the age of 33, Cathy was reunited with Phyl and a strong friendship grew between them. As the two of them became close and talked about their lives, a story began to emerge, one of a woman who seemed to face adversity throughout much of her life, and yet may be one of the strongest and courageous people I’ve ever known.

Being a teenager and pregnant back in the 50s could be hard enough, but when you have authorities over you calling all the shots, removing you from a harmful home environment and sending you to a place distant and alone away from everything and everyone you’ve ever known, well I imagine it had to be pretty scary. Phyl’s one shining moment of joy in this strange place came at the birth of her beautiful little girl, only to have that short lived when the baby was taken from her days later and not to see her again for 33 years.

It was a few years later Phyl would fall in love and marry the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with, only to see that end within eight years, but not before he gave her something she cherished more than life itself, two daughters and a son. Unlike losing her first daughter, no one was going to wrestle these three from her grip, and she set out to pour everything she had, mind, body and soul into the lives of these precious gifts of God she was given.

As any single parent will tell you, it’s not an easy task, or for the weak-hearted to be both mom and dad in the family, but Phyl was determined to make it work. And to make it work, they were going to have become more than a family, they would have to become a team, each knowing their role and the expectations placed upon them. Regimented, structured, and packed with discipline, Phyl led her little family, often with a very loud voice that commanded respect and obedience. Her oldest daughter was delegated to 2^nd in command at a young age helping with the two younger siblings and anything else that needed to be done to secure the wellbeing of them all. The two younger kids’ function might appear easier, but it really wasn’t. The golden rule rules according Mom Phyl, “Do good in school, keep out of trouble, listen to what I tell you, learn when I take you to church, and never disrespect me; do these things and there’s a good possibility you might live long enough to produce future generations!!” I imagine to an outsider Phyl’s ways and manner might have seemed harsh, perhaps in this day and age they might have seemed criminal. But this dear lady didn’t grow up in a soft atmosphere; the world she came to know was hard and at times unkind, but she learned to use it to her and her children’s benefit.

I mentioned Lady Phyl could be loud; well I have theory on that. Let’s say you see someone who has inadvertently wandered into the path of an oncoming semi, not realizing they’re about to be hit. Are you in a quiet and gentle tone going to say “Uh, excuse me, but if you don’t move this instant you’re going to be an added statistic in the field of road kill.” NO! You’re going to scream at the top of your lungs, “Look, get out of the way, move now!!” Phyl knew what would bring harm, be it physically, mentally, emotionally or spiritually, to the ones she loved most; and a quiet demeanor would not get the point across. “Listen to me, pay attention, because I’ve been there and I don’t want you anywhere near what I’ve been through!” I call it Mom Phyl’s way of saying, “I love you.” She also taught them that they may not have a lot, but if they learn to appreciate what they do have and what God has put around them, they were rich.

The years passed and in certain ways life didn’t get easier for Phyl, she now struggled with physical limitations causing her to take an earlier retirement than she had planned. I guess it could be said that she had more than her share of adversity when you look at her past. But like so many “Travelers of the Rock Road,” it’s not the past that defines a person, but the present and the future. In Mom Phyl’s case her rough past prepared her to be the best mom she could to three kids who repaid her sometimes “rough” approach by growing and honoring her with productive lives, loving grandchildren and marriages that have been long lasting and loving. If you place me and Cathy into the equation, Mom Phyl’s children combined have over a hundred years of marriage! That’s a pretty awesome stat in this day and age huh?!! If that’s not a candidate for “Super Mothers of America,” I don’t know who would be. Phyl was finally blessed with a man of honor in her life who stood by her side and loved her the way she needed– awesome!!

Two things stick out to me on the day we gathered with the family to spread her ashes at her favorite park for bird watching; first her son said to those gathered, “You know as long as we have, Faith, Family, and Friends, we are truly rich.” And my thoughts, “Hey Phyl, they got it, you got through to them, without spilling blood! Way to go Sweetheart!!”

The second moment that stays with me was later that day when two of her grown grandchildren spoke at her memorial, telling through tearing eyes how she taught them to love the simple things in life, and especially God. “Lady Phyl, your incredible legacy lives on in new generations, Dear One.”

“The loveliest masterpiece of the heart of God is the love of a Mother” St. Therese of Lisieux.

The world will not see or know Mom Phyl as one of the great women of history. But for the ones of us who did know her, whose lives she touched, her memory and lessons will be continued on to future generations as we recount the wonderful woman of faith and family that she was.

Scripture speaks of Phyl like this, “Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.” Proverbs 31:25-30

We seldom get back to Ohio, but I think we may make a trip on occasion to the park where Phyl loved to watch the birds and remember a wonderful and awesome, Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother and Wife who gave so much of herself for the good and pleasure of others.

When I get to Heaven someday, I picture me walking around checking things out. I also picture hearing a loud bellowing voice calling out to me, “HEY JOHN, OVER HERE!” I won’t even have to turn around to know who it is. “Hey Phyl, so glad we’re together again!”

See you next time!!

I remember that hot summer night back in 1970; I had just gotten my license, had a car and two of my buddies and I were enjoying the rite of passage that every teenager looks forward to, cruising up and down the streets of our hometown without adult supervision.

What an awesome time to be young and alive, we were rulers of our destiny and every moment was made for a new adventure. We were riding on State St., the main drag of Fremont just like all the other road warriors of the time listening to the radio, singing along and just having a great time being young. As we were driving through a local park we spotted two upper classmen we recognized walking along the road. “Hey, give us ride,” one called out. They climbed in and we were on top of the world, two popular seniors wanting to hang out with us for the night; couldn’t wait for everyone to see us all together. This is gonna be awesome I thought; well as today’s young generation puts it, “Not!”

When they got in you could smell the alcohol from them drinking and we hoped they’d buy us some, but one said, “Let’s just drive.” There was eeriness on how quiet they were as we tried to make conversation to no avail. My friend Jim who was riding in the back seat with them thought maybe a little show and tell would break the ice; “Hey guys, take a look at this,” and he pulled a 4-inch switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it open. “Let me see that,” the one said, so he handed it to him. “Pretty cool, huh?” Jim said. “Yeah, our older companion answered back; “Pretty cool.” None of us were prepared for what happened next. After holding it close to his face for a minute as if studying the knife from every angle, he suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Dave, the front passenger by the head and slammed him into the back of the seat. He then placed the shiny steel blade against his neck and in a loud almost devilish voice said, “I’m going to kill you!” “Come on, quit messing around,” Dave protested. “Messing around, who’s messing around?!!” screamed this wild man who was fully out of control now; “I said I’m going to kill you and I mean I’m going to kill you!” All of us were frozen with fear, even the other guy acted like he had never before seen his friend like this. I wanted to stop the car, but I feared any sudden move would cause this nut job to cut Dave either accidentally or on purpose. I felt completely helpless as the ranting continued. “I’m going to kill you, are you scared, are you?!! Here it comes, are you ready to die, tell me are you afraid, fear me, are you scared?!!” “Yes, I’m afraid!” Dave finally screamed out, “No, I don’t want to die!” With that the attacker let out a blood curdling scream, let go of Dave, sat back in the seat then folded and handed the knife back to Jim, and in a calm voice said, “Okay.” Then he and his buddy broke into hysterical laughter while the three of us sat quietly and emotionally spent; just couldn’t see any amusement in what just happened. “Let us out at the next corner,” I was ordered. When I came to a stop I reached for a cigarette, but could hardly get it between my lips from shaking so bad. Leaning over the seat our knife wielding lunatic clicked his lighter on and lit the end of my smoke. “Beats a knife to the throat huh?” he said with a chuckle. Giving me a slap on the shoulder and a “Thanks for the ride,” they disappeared into the night. I slapped the car into “B for Boogie” and got away from there as fast as I could. So much for the thrill of new adventures!

“The presence of fear does not mean you have no faith. Fear visits everyone. But make your fear a visitor and not a resident.” Max Lucado

I never saw this guy again, but years later I would revisit that harrowing night in my mind, and it finally occurred to me what really happened back then. I don’t believe it was ever this person’s intention to harm my pal Dave; I’m convinced there was something more important he was after. He needed to see and hear the fear Dave had in his heart thinking he might die any minute, believing he had the power of life and death in his hands. Once his thirst for the torment and terror was quenched, he was satisfied.

Over time I have met many that feed their ego by holding others captive either physically or emotionally using fear as their weapon. I know because I also was a prisoner once terrified of what one man might do to me. What finally broke those chains is when I stopped giving over to what he wanted, for me to fear him. For a time the abuse continued, but when he realized whether he hurt me or not, I would no longer be afraid of him; his grip on my life was severed.

Before I was a Christian, I had a fear of the unknown, what would happen to me at the end of life. When I discovered Christ, I discovered there wasn’t anything to be afraid of. Isaiah 41:10 says, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

And in Deuteronomy 31:6, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Matter of fact over 300 times in the Bible we are told to “Fear not.” Where we haven’t the strength, God does. And with Him on our side, no matter what, in the end we win!!!

“Travelers of the Rock Road,” fear is out there waiting at anytime to ensnare all of us. The question then is do we become enslaved to fear, or do we draw on our strength to overcome?

For the ones who call themselves Believers, it can be summed up like this; “The LORD is my light and my salvation– whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life– of whom shall I be afraid?” Knowing God in on my side, I’ve only got two words for you fear mongers, “BRING IT!!!”

Just a side note, from that day forth I’m been more selective about who I give rides to. And if one was ever to ask, “Hey, you got a knife on you?” NO!!!

See ya next time.

I haven’t felt good the last few days so I’m not writing my typical blog story, but I felt compelled to have something since I made reference to this week in my last story “Lucky?”

As I have mentioned several times in the past, I grew up in an abusive lifestyle at the hands of my great-uncle and I hated it, and in turn I hated him for what he did to me. Even years after this man died the thought of him would bring anger and animosity to my very soul causing the hurt to return once more, only mentally which can be just as painful, if not more, than that of physical abuse. Even though he was gone he would often abuse me once again, only this time it was not by what he was doing, but what I was doing, in other words remembering and reliving the cruelty all over again. With the help of others, especially my Lady, and the guidance of the Lord through prayer and the Word, I found the key to finally escaping the brutal hand of this; and that key, forgiveness.

“Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Ephesians 4:31-32. It was when I realized that what I needed to do for my Great-Uncle, Jesus had already done for me, forgive. C.S. Lewis puts it like this; “To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.”

It wasn’t easy and it took more than once, perhaps more than a hundred times, but God finally gave me peace and forgiveness toward this man; the hate and the hurt was finally gone! Now this would be a good place to end the story, another leg of “Traveling the Rock Road” completed; only there’s one more twist and turn on this trek of life trail.

Over the years as I’ve thought of this man, I often asked the question of myself whether there is anything positive I can point to that I got from him. Could I say to someone, “Yeah, he was cruel, but I did learn this from him.” Sadly, to no avail; there wasn’t one positive quality I could pinpoint, so I prayed. “God please show me something good I can say about my Uncle, if for no other reason then at least to help with healing.” Then it came to me, something very important I missed entirely.

Philippians 3:13 says;    “Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead,”

One person put it this way; “Mistakes have the power to turn you into something better than you were before.”

What came to me was not what my Uncle did, but what he didn’t do. It goes without saying I did not like his actions, it was wrong how he treated me and other people for that matter. He never taught me the right way to treat others, but I learned anyway by doing the opposite. Lewis wrote that we all have the ability to understand right and wrong instinctively, it was then up to us what we did with it. For me I chose to learn right from an injustice. As the years went on and Cathy and I raised a family, I made every effort to treat them in a way they would want from dad, with love.

I used to tell them “Take anything that I’ve done wrong and make it right, take what I’ve done right, and make it better.”

That’s all I had to say tonight. I hope I made the point I wanted to.

Remember there’s no hurt that God can’t heal in your life, and forgive in others–the decision is yours. As the movies say, “Choose Wisely.”

See Ya Soon!!

Ran into an old college friend of mine over in Fort Wayne a while back and had he not spoken first I probably wouldn’t have known who he was. When I met Reed during our freshman college year he looked more like a freshman in high-school; baby face, thin, wavy hair, very clean cut and happy-go-lucky. Everyone liked Reed including myself since he was so friendly and easy going. We had classes together and even the professors enjoyed his presence. That’s how he started at least, but by our sophomore year he became very quiet and avoided most people. During that time he missed classes and assignments so much he was placed on academic probation. The following term his old outlook seemed to be back with a determination to turn things around at school. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long and he was back cutting classes until one day he withdrew and I never saw him again; that is until the day 35 years later there on the street getting out of his car. He was headed into a sports bar to watch a football game and drink a few beers and asked if I would join him. I almost said, “No,” but the dramatic change in how he looked and acted was enough for me to say, “Sure, but just for a little bit.”

Reed, the well groomed youthful looking young man I knew now looked older than his years. He had put on a lot of weight, so much it would have been impossible for him to tuck his shirt in. The easy friendly features to his face were still visible, but so were hard facial lines, yellow teeth which I knew was from years of smoking, and the wavy hair was now greasy and unkempt. Grabbing a table near a large TV screen, he ordered us a pitcher and we began to talk.

Wasting no time I got to the root of my inquisitiveness. “Reed, what’s been gong on with you dude? You were in school, then suddenly gone. What happened?” “Life happened and I was sick of it,” he shot back. You didn’t know me well, but my old man was very well to do and I had pretty much anything I wanted, except real happiness. Dad was always on my case telling me I wouldn’t amount to anything if I didn’t do things the way he wanted, and no matter what I did it was never good enough. When we were in college and I didn’t get all A’s then I was a slacker and a loser. I realized one day that trying to meet up to his expectations was futile, so I just quit trying. I left school, moved over here and started selling used cars at a lot and did pretty well at it, too.” Well that must have made your dad happy to know you found your niche in life at least,” I said. Reed roared with laughter, and then began again. “Are you kidding, he went through the roof! Couldn’t believe I was throwing my life away on something so degrading as he put it and ordered me out of the house; I’ve been over here every since.” We went on to talk a little about family now and I learned Reed had been married twice, but wasn’t at that time. “I have a couple of kids, but the one I never see and the other only occasionally, like when she needs money,” and he laughed again.

“Reed, I’m sorry to hear these things buddy, I never knew your situation and wish there was something I could do or say to help you.” Taking a long drink on his beer and staring at the game on the big screen, he didn’t speak for a while. Finally he broke the silence; “And what would that be Miller, how could you help my situation? Let me answer it for you; you couldn’t! Each of us was dealt our cards in the game of life and you just have to play them out, go on from there and live with it.” “Reed, are you telling me that you believe it’s impossible to change your life for the better? Surely you don’t believe that.” Reed smiled gently before answering “I do love you optimists, always saying things will get better. Maybe it does, but for how many, one in a hundred, maybe one in a million? Sorry, but with those kinds of odds I’ll just be content in my misery.”

As I got up to leave, Reed shook my hand and we parted with me telling him I’d be keeping him in my prayers. “Thanks Miller and I really mean that, but I’m okay, honest! Hey, it just wasn’t meant for all of us to have a lucky life like you my friend.”

I thought about Reed’s words all the way home that day and often since. Lucky, huh?
Let’s see, I grew up without a father, got moved around a good deal of my childhood days never having anyplace I could point to as home for very long, didn’t learn to read until I was 12 years old which caused me to be ostracized often in grade school and the only male “role model” I had in my life was physically and emotionally abusive. Throw in a boat load of insecurities to that resume and somehow the word “Lucky” just doesn’t seem to fit!

I won’t make light of Reed’s situation anymore than I would anyone else, but there’s a belief in me that says he could change his situation just the same as I did. That’s not to say I’m something special, but then many studies come to the same conclusion Reed did, that only a small few rise above bad circumstances. Personally, I think if you took all those studies and made into a solid material it would work well as a fertilizer for the garden! (As always, just my opinion)

Two things made a difference for me; the first was this gut check knowledge that I didn’t have to live as a victim of circumstances. I possessed the ability to change my course for the better, for the happier if I was willing to go for it; I truly believe that each and every one of us can do that. Then the second and the most important is learning that God, the Creator of the universe saw me as something special.

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Ephesians 2:10

I am a co-heir with Christ.  “Now if we are children, then we are heirs- heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ. If indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share with His glory.” Romans 8:17

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Psalm 139:14

I know I say this often, but I am not a religious man, but one of faith. And the longer I “Travel the Rock Road,” the more I learn about the one I call Lord and about me also.

Like Reed, times have not always been the best. But unlike him I learned I have the ability to change course, by drawing on the strength inside of me, leaning on people who come along side to be a help (particularly the wonderful Lady God has blessed me with for over 40 years!), learning how to take the wrong things that have been in my life and make them right (That’s next week’s story but I’m getting ahead of myself) and finally to see myself as God sees me, redeemed, worthy of His love and perfect, even with all my faults; that comes through the Gift given in His Son Jesus. Awesome!!!

Never saw Reed again, but I think of him often, and when I do I pray for him. I pray that someday he might just see himself in a better light, that he may see himself as God sees him, a beautiful child He wants so much to give His love to, just like me, just like each you.

Max Lucado sums it up this way: “You weren’t an accident. You weren’t mass produced. You aren’t an assembly-line product. You were deliberately planned, specifically gifted, and lovingly positioned on the earth by the Master Craftsman.”

Argue that one, will ya?!! See ya soon!

It’s getting nice out and with that my mind turns to the finer things in life, like triathlons!  Since I quit smoking 11 years ago I’ve enjoyed these contests, not so much competing against others as much as myself; I just love to push it harder than I thought imaginable. This season because of nagging injuries that don’t seem to want to go away I’ll have to be content on watching my sons compete. They’re both great athletes, but there’s something about my long haired, long legged Jeremy David, he may not look typical for these races but he possesses something that gives him an edge, a willingness to push past the pain threshold to give his best performance. And as I was thinking about that, the memory of another competitor came to mind from years back that inspired me, as I hope his story will you.

1968, undoubtedly one of the most prolific years of that decade. The Viet Nam was in full swing, Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King had both been assassinated, riots had erupted in major cities across the U.S., Russia, better knows as the USSR back then had invaded Czechoslovakia and the summer Olympics were getting under way in Mexico City. Even this most special event was not without chaos as just weeks before the event the Mexican military opened fire on protesting college students in the country killing nearly 300.

When the Olympics finally began, they were a welcome 16-day distraction from all the world’s problems with many new names and faces grabbing the spotlight on the world stage for all to admire. This was especially the case for the American team who would lead all countries that year in medal count. We came to know names like Bob Beamon for his world record long jump and Dick Fosbury for winning the high jump with his unique approach which would go on to carry his name–the Fosbury Flop. Perhaps the most famous and most controversial moment at the games is when Tommie Smith and John Carlos while standing on the victory platform after winning medals in the 200 meter races, raised clenched fists in a black power salute during the playing of the Star Spangled Banner. Yes, many new celebrities were emerging during this world wide sporting event, but the one who grabbed my attention, my hero of the games is someone history doesn’t mention and only a few sport buffs and experts still remember.

I had been watching the running of the marathon on TV, one of my favorite events. I’ve always been impressed at the stamina these athletics must posses as they compete in the most enduring race of them all. These athletes must aggressively run 26 miles while fighting off the pain and fatigue that comes from such a grueling contest. At the end of the race when the runners enter the arena for the last leg of the competition, screaming and adoring fans wave flags as their country’s representative crosses the finish line. After quite a number of contestants had finished the race, the network carrying the coverage cut away to another event and I turned the TV off and left for several hours.

When I returned, I switched the set back on to see what was now taking place. I can’t tell you what event was being aired at that moment; only that a commentator was talking when he was interrupted and told they were going to switch back to the arena for a very dramatic occurrence being played out. There a young man was coming down the street toward the arena with bruises and cuts on his arms, legs and face. He had come to Mexico City as a competitor from a small African nation that was ruled as a monarchy. A new commentator began telling this young man’s story, how he was the only one to make the trip from his country, marching in the opening day ceremonies alone, but nonetheless a proud figure of a man carrying his country’s flag. Early in the competition of the marathon race, this valiant and proud athlete had taken a severe fall on the hot asphalt that baked under the Mexican sun. This left deep gashes in several places over his body, he picked himself up and he continued on only to have this occurrence happen again where he fell even harder. Many runners that day did not finish the race due to exhaustion and the grueling heat of a Mexican sun; still this gallant warrior continued on.

Now, here he was close to the end of his challenge, battered and scared from his unfortunate conflict, the only runner left from a race that had ended hours before. Yet he pushed on sometimes walking and sometimes gently running until he finally entered the arena. Other competitions were going on and had to be cleared out of the way. At first there was a notable silence from the crowd, not understanding exactly what was happening—until they saw this man, my hero enter to make his final lap. Covered with blood and dirt on his uniform, he began a steady trot and at the first applause was quiet and cordial. But as the crowd saw the determination of this fighter to finish the race, the accolades increased to a fever pitch with many rising to their feet to cheer him on. As the roar increased, so did his pace finding somewhere deep inside him a final reservoir of energy allowing him to break into a long strong stride in the final 100 yards. As he crossed, a quickly thrown together finish line, the whole arena exploded louder and stronger than what was given the gold medalist! This was no ovation for a last place finisher; this was for someone who refused to give up the race.

I Corinthians 9:24-26 (The Message Bible): “You’ve all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You’re after one that’s gold eternally. I don’t know about you, but I’m running hard for the finish line. I’m giving it everything I’ve got.”

This “Traveler of the Rock Road” had come to Mexico City in hopes of winning the prize. When the gold medal was obviously forever out of reach, this did not deter him from the main reason why he had come in the first place; to finish the race for his king. Each of us runs a race in life every day. The determining factor on how you compete, train and accomplish the task before you is shaped by the goal you reach for. For the Christian, there is no guarantee that life will be painless with smooth roads in obtaining that goal. The strength in keeping your focus lies in understanding why you are in the race, and who you are running for. For that competitor, the reward awaits at the finish line where there will be rejoicing in hearing their King say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

May your goals be attainable, your training be diligent and your focus be on the eternal prize.

See ya next time!

1 Corinthians 15:55

“Where, O death, is your victory?

Where, O death, is your sting?”

The tomb is empty, death has been defeated, Christ has Risen!!!  No more does man have to fear the unknown, the barrier between him and God has been shattered, the price has been paid for sin, our sins.  Now we can take comfort and assurance in the words of our Lord when He said in John 3:16 (New International Version) For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

“The best news of the Christian gospel is that the supremely glorious Creator of the universe has acted in Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection to remove every obstacle between us and himself so that we may find everlasting joy in seeing and savoring his infinite beauty.”  John Piper

No matter how devastating our struggles, disappointments, and troubles are, they are only temporary. No matter what happens to you, no matter the depth of tragedy or pain you face, no matter how death stalks you and your loved ones, the Resurrection promises you a future of immeasurable good.  Josh McDowell

Amen and AMEN!

Thank you to all have read the Easter Road here on “Traveling the Rock Road.” I hope that it has been uplifting and inspirational to you on exactly what Easter is and why. I pray if you have not made Christ Lord of your life that you will today. It’s easy; all it takes is to pray in sincerity;

“Lord I know I am a lost sinner, and I acknowledge that you paid the price for my sins on the cross, then you rose from the dead and now sit at the right hand of the Father making intercession for me. Please come and be Lord of my life that I might have eternal life through you, In the name of Jesus I pray, amen.

If you have prayed this prayer, let me know and I’ll send you material to help with more understanding plus try to connect you with a Bible believing church in your area.

May you have an awesome week and may the spirit of Easter continue to live in your heart year round.

“He Has Risen”!!!!

Matthew 27:51-54New International Version (NIV)

51 At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split 52 and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. 53 They came out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection and[a] went into the holy city and appeared to many people. 54 When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, “Surely he was the Son of God!”

The veil or curtain was torn in two from top to bottom. No longer was there a barrier, be it physical or spiritual, between God and man. The price had been paid, the atoning power of the blood of the Lamb had now opened the way where any and all could come to God by the name of Jesus become His beloved children and be saved!

“Tetelestai” IT IS FINISHED!!!

Psalm 22

1 My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish? 2 My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest.[b] 3 Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One; you are the one Israel praises.[c] 4 In you our ancestors put their trust; they trusted and you delivered them. 5 To you they cried out and were saved; in you they trusted and were not put to shame. 6 But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people.  7 All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads. 8 “He trusts in the Lord,” they say, “let the Lord rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him.”  9 Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast. 10 From birth I was cast on you; from my mother’s womb you have been my God. 11 Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help. 12 Many bulls surround me; strong bulls of Bashan encircle me. 13 Roaring lions that tear their prey open their mouths wide against me. 14 I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted within me. 15 My mouth[d] is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; you lay me in the dust of death. 16 Dogs surround me, a pack of villains encircles me; they pierce[e] my hands and my feet. 17 All my bones are on display; people stare and gloat over me.  18 They divide my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment. 19 But you, Lord, do not be far from me. You are my strength; come quickly to help me. 20 Deliver me from the sword, my precious life from the power of the dogs. 21 Rescue me from the mouth of the lions; save me from the horns of the wild oxen. 22 I will declare your name to my people; in the assembly I will praise you. 23 You who fear the Lord, praise him! All you descendants of Jacob, honor him! Revere him, all you descendants of Israel!  24 For he has not despised or scorned the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help. 25 From you comes the theme of my praise in the great assembly; before those who fear you[f] I will fulfill my vows. 26 The poor will eat and be satisfied; those who seek the Lord will praise him—may your hearts live forever! 27 All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the Lord, and all the families of the nations will bow down before him, 28 for dominion belongs to the Lord and he rules over the nations. 29 All the rich of the earth will feast and worship; all who go down to the dust will kneel before him—those who cannot keep themselves alive. 30 Posterity will serve him; future generations will be told about the Lord.  31 They will proclaim his righteousness, declaring to a people yet unborn:  “He has done it!

“Life is wasted if we do not grasp the glory of the cross, cherish it for the treasure that it is, and cleave to it as the highest price of every pleasure and the deepest comfort in every pain. What was once foolishness to us—a crucified God—must become our wisdom and our power and our only boast in this world.”― John Piper