Traveling the Rock Road

Matthew 21:12-15 – Jesus at the Temple

12 Jesus entered the temple courts and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves. 13 “It is written,” He said to them, “My house will be called a house of prayer, but you are making it a den of robbers.”  14 The blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them. 15 But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple courts, “Hosanna to the Son of David,” they were indignant.

When Jesus saw what had happened to the temple it was evident he was quite upset, perhaps angry and sad at the same. He couldn’t take seeing His Father’s house in the condition it now was.

Many years ago I came the point I couldn’t take anymore the condition of my own personal temple, in others words, my own life. It needed to be cleaned up, just like the temple of Jesus day.

Perhaps this is something you’ve needed or thought about for a long time. What better time to make a change than during this time we celebrate the resurrection of the Savior.

“The Christian says, ‘Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or to be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that country and to help others to do the same.” C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

Take a moment to view this young man’s video and heart stirring song.

Blessings this day on your “Travels on the Rock Road.”

From the time of being a boy I had heard what we call the Easter Story, only it wasn’t until many years later that I truly understood its impact not only on me but the entire world. This week I am abandoning my usual writing of “Traveling the Rock Road” and will instead be posting for the next seven days Bible verses that speak of the days leading up to the crucifixion of Jesus, and His glorious resurrection. I’ll also be attaching a video with song addressing the subject of Christ during this time. These posts will be short as compared to my usual ones, so I hope you’ll take a moment each day to read, listen, ponder and perhaps even rejoice in what God has done for all who accept His Gift.

Palm branches are a part of Christian worship on Palm Sunday, or Passion Sunday, as it is sometimes called. This event commemorates Jesus Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem, as foretold by the prophet Zechariah.

The Bible tells us people cut branches from palm trees, laid them across Jesus’ path and waved them in the air. They greeted Jesus not as the spiritual Messiah who would take away the sins of the world, but as a potential political leader who would overthrow the Romans. Their shout “Hosanna” meant “save now.”

In ancient times, palm branches symbolized goodness and victory. They were often depicted on coins and important buildings. Solomon had palm branches carved into the walls and doors of the temple (1 Kings 6:29). Again at the end of the Bible, people from every nation raise palm branches to honor Jesus (Revelation 7:9).

Today, many Christian churches distribute palm branches to worshipers on Palm Sunday. The people remember Christ’s sacrificial death on the cross, praise him for the gift of salvation, and look expectantly to his second coming. Taken from the web page “About Religion.”

Matthew 21:1-11 – Jesus Comes to Jerusalem as King.  As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2 saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.” 4 This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet: 5 “Say to Daughter Zion, ‘See, your king comes to you, gentle and riding on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’ 6 The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. 7 They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. 8 A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9 The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”[c] “Hosanna in the highest heaven!” 10 When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?” 11 The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”

“But with Christ, we have access in a one-to-one relationship, for, as in the Old Testament, it was more one of worship and awe, a vertical relationship. The New Testament, on the other hand, we look across at a Jesus who looks familiar, horizontal. The combination is what makes the Cross.” Bono

Blessed Palm Sunday Friends and Family!!

Please take a moment to watch this wonderful video:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMKNbLd0dfg

The year was 1971 and for every young person in my little town who was acting up, being rebellious and just doing the normal things teens did back then, there was one wearing a cross, toting a modern language Bible and telling as many as would listen about the love of Jesus. This was the emergence of what was being called “The Jesus Movement” that started out in California and was now sweeping the nation. It was an awakening, if you will, of many that drew attention to one’s spiritual needs over anything else. Being churched most of my life, I didn’t pay a lot of attention to these “Jesus Freaks” at first; I mean what’s so tremendous about a bunch of Johnny Come Lately Long Hairs who got religion? I figured this trend would die over the summer and everything would be back to normal; but it didn’t. As a matter of fact the movement built up steam with many joining their ranks; one was a young friend who eventually won me to the Lord.

Brian was a fellow musician who after turning to Christ he became a 16-year-old version of Billy Graham. If he wasn’t studying the Bible or something relevant to it, he was on the hunt, looking for anyone and everyone he could to tell them about Jesus. It got so bad that if certain people saw Brian coming their way they’d scatter like mice before he could corner them and say something like, “Do you know God loved you so much He sent His Son to die for you?!!” Yep, Brian could be an aggravation to some with how zealous and passionate he was for his Lord, but to many more of us he was an inspiration and model of what a Christian should be. When I moved away from my hometown, I let Brian know that if it hadn’t been for his persistence I might never had come to know Christ the way I should; it was a touching moment between two who had become Brothers. We hugged and went our separate ways. Nothing could have prepared me for what I found the next time we were together.

The bar was smoky and loud, packed full with patrons who had come out for a night of drinking and revelry. The rockabilly band on stage was cranking out high energy tunes to keep the crowd near a fever pitch. And up there on stage with them, my man Brian. It had been about four years since our paths crossed and I had heard some changes had taken place, and I’m not talking about him playing with a bar band, I had to find out for myself.

After a cordial greeting and some small talk, I got right to the root of my concern. “Dude, I’m hearing you’ve walked away from Christ, quit going to church and won’t meet with anyone who still does; what’s up with that?” He stared down at the drink in his hand for a long time before shrugging his shoulders, then looking up at me he said, “It just wasn’t real.” Why was he it saying it wasn’t real? “What wasn’t real?” I asked. “None of it, a new life, changed ways, happiness; none of it’s real, just another religion, just another philosophy, nothing more.” His words were like a knife straight to my heart. I saw there was nothing I was going to say to change his new attitude so I became angry inside. I wanted to yell, “Damn it, you’re the one who got me believing in first place, how dare you say now it wasn’t real?!!” But we really didn’t say much more and we parted ways, not to meet again for another 20 years.

Often I thought of Brian’s words and how they echoed in my mind, “It wasn’t real, It wasn’t Real, IT WASN’T REAL!” Is he right now, as I thought he was all though years ago when he first told me about Jesus? Is what I believe as truth nothing more than an ancient myth? I wasn’t sure on anything Brian had told me now, but I knew if I didn’t get resolve on this issue, it would haunt me the rest of my life.

I’ve spent a few years now studying the Bible, where it originated and who exactly Jesus was; this type of study is called Apologetics. (There’s an 8-cylinder word you can stick in your back pocket in case you ever need it.) And after indepth reading of much material, I came away fully believing the Bible is the inspired Word of God and Jesus is who He said He was, the Son of God sent to be the atonement for a lost world. Case closed, right?

No, something was still missing, not in evidence, but in me; but what was it? What was I still missing? What did Brian miss too? It finally came to me in the few words that now captivate my belief in my Lord.

Ephesians 2:8-9 For it is by grace you have been saved, through “FAITH”, and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God, not by works, so that no one can boast.

All the studies and proof in the world won’t do me a bit of good if I don’t have Faith in what I believe, in whom I believe; that’s where it must start, that’s where it must stay.

As for my friend, my spiritual father Brian, well near as I can figure it seems he missed a valuable lesson we all must learn when we choose to follow Christ.

Max Lucado puts it like this, “Lower your expectations of earth. This isn’t Heaven, so don’t expect it to be.” In other words there’s no promise that once you become a Christian, life is a bed of roses and everything will be perfect. That’s one of the reasons I call this blog “Traveling the Rock Road.” God even makes a point to tell us what to do when this life kicks the stuffing out of us;

James 1:2-4 “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” It may sound tough, it may sound a little callous, but truthfully it works. Just like a body builder continuously lifts heavy weights to build muscle, so too can hard times produce a stronger grip on your faith, with the end result being true joy, eternally,

Awesome!

I’ve only seen Brian a few times since that night in the bar, but I never miss the opportunity to let him know he’s still important to me, and to God. Does he believe it or will he ever turn back to following Christ? I wish I could tell you yes, but I really don’t know. All I can tell you is this man is prayed for often; by who you ask?

Just a weary but happy “Traveler of the Rock Road,”

See you again soon!

You would have thought the world was coming to an end by the urgency and trouble in my friend’s voice as we spoke over the phone. Evidently he was not ready for the devastating news he had just received and wasn’t sure if he or his wife would ever recover fully from its impact. I wasn’t prepared either for this unusual cry of distress from my old friend there in Iowa. Typically he was very upbeat telling me all the wonderful things he and his family had been doing and he was especially proud of his four daughters and their sporting activities. Being quite the athlete in his high school days, winning a scholarship to college for track and football, it was no surprise that all the children were involved with sports also. And Jim (my buddy) loved to brag on them, even had an area in their house called the brag room that displayed the trophies, ribbons and awards the girls had won. So I was used to sitting back, sipping on a cup of coffee, listening to the latest impressive feat one or more of his gals had performed during softball, volleyball, track, tennis or basketball season. On occasion it would get a little long, but I have a rule never to stop a parent from bragging on their children, matter of fact I enjoyed it. But this time there were no stories of heroic accolades from Jim, he was too distraught from the news his 2^nd youngest had just given him. Addie, as they called her was just finishing her freshman year where she excelled in both volleyball and basketball so much that is sounded like it was a sure thing she’d be starting varsity the rest of her high school years with talk of even state recognition and scholarship offers well before she ever graduated. So what was the terrible news that Addie announced to her mom and dad that had them giving thought to going skydiving without a parachute? Was she deathly sick and they didn’t know? No. Did she want to drop out of school and join the circus? Nope. Was she (God forbid) pregnant?!!! Sorry, none of the above. The bombshell their precious Addie had just dropped was–ready for this?

Wait on it,

Wait on it,

She was quitting all sports!!!!

“How she could take everything we’ve worked so hard for and just throw it away when it was finally going to mean something?” Jim threw that at me in question form, but not expecting me to give an answer. “I don’t who’s talking and putting these dumb things in her head, but I’m going to find out; and if she thinks she’s going to be a quitter just like that, she’s got another thing coming!”

Our conversation was over shortly there after, Jim wasn’t in the mood to talk and I didn’t have anything to say, at least nothing he wanted to hear. Figured the best thing I could do was wait and pray.

It was over a year before I heard from Jim; he was in town and invited me to lunch. It was a good visit and we shared some laughs about our college days before I got the nerve up to say, “So how’s Addie these days?” There was a quick burst of laughter from Jim and then, “Oh yeah, we were talking on the phone the day, that day when she hit us with her bomb weren’t we?” Then he went, “Yeah, everything’s good now, Addie’s grades are great and she’s now on the debate team, she’s a natural arguer.” Then with a sly smile, “She must have got that from her mother.” He knew what I was wondering, so he then got right to it. “That night got pretty loud at our house as I tried to convince Addie that she was making the biggest mistake of her life, one that she would regret someday. There was threats, yelling and crying between the two of us, until her last sentence. I shouted I don’t see how you could throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for!” Jim was quiet for a second before he went on. “She yelled back at me, because it hasn’t been for me, it’s been for you! I’ve tried to tell you in the past that I wanted to do some other things besides sports, but you and mom wouldn’t hear of it. I felt I didn’t have a choice, well now I do and I’m finished, I’m going to do other things that make me happy, not you!” “Wow, what do you say after that?” I asked Jim. “What could I say? It was like getting hit in the face with a bucket of ice water, but it was true. I was living my dream in Addie, not listening or letting her do what she wanted. I tried to make her into something she didn’t want, and I nearly lost what made her the most important to me, my daughter.”

“I don’t want my children to be what I want them to be. I want them to become    everything God created them to be.” Jon Gordon

Jim and his wife learned a valuable lesson that day with their daughter Addie, one that probably most of us could use. We can guide, advise, instruct, and even admonish our children in the direction they go in life, but we can’t live that life for them; the final decision of what course they choose must be their own. We’ve seen all three of our kids make decisions that went against what my Lady and I felt was best for their lives, sometimes it was painful to watch, but still we had to let them go. As babies we dedicated each of them to the Lord with the prayer, “God they’re yours first, guide and mold them into what you want them to be. Like I said, it’s been hard at times, but I can thankfully say I am proud of what each have achieved as they have grown, both physically and spiritually.

For ones who parent like Jim and me, we want our children to grow up living for Christ first and foremost, so we put to memory the verse, Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it (Proverbs 22:6).

Andy Stanley puts it this way “Your greatest contribution to the kingdom of God may not be something you do but someone you raise.” And if I may add to that, “By letting them be who God meant them to be all along. Guide? Yes, but they must go the direction as a “Traveler of the Rock Road” that has been set before them, set in their hearts. Parents, we can continue to do what God wants us to for our children, be there if they need us, and pray a lot!

Addie is grown now with a family of her own; she’s gone on to be an elementary school teacher. As for sports, she still stays active with pick up games of basketball in her driveway with the kids and her husband. As for her and Dad, Jim, well everything worked out and they became closer than ever. They even found an activity they like doing together nowadays; co-coaching her son’s soccer team.

Gotta Love It!!
See ya soon.

I seldom talk about my very short lived time near the top of the music industry and some of the people there I brushed up against, mainly because there’s just not a whole lot to tell. Oh I could give you a few names to impress you, but it doesn’t mean that much. Those names and a 5 dollar bill will get you a Happy Meal at Micky D’s I suppose, but not much more than that. I’m sure six months after I was gone from the circuit had you mentioned my name to any of them their answer would have been, “Who?” That’s just the nature of the beast, and the music industry for all us dime-a-dozen wanna be musicians trying to make our mark. If anything, I did learn that I was lacking two major qualities that were needed if I was going to make a living in music. The first, of course, was talent; I needed to hone my skills to a higher level than they were and I needed to get tougher emotionally. I loved the time spent performing on stage, but away from that I felt insecure and probably suffered a little from depression. When my moment was gone, I made a vow that I would find my way back into the music industry better prepared than when I was given the heave ho.

I worked hard to get better at my trade and when the time came started a band I was in charge of. The other musicians I recruited were quite talented and I had high hopes of a triumphal return to the limelight. This time I was determined not to fold under the pressure or let depression to have its way with me. I made all the major decisions and critiqued every number in our repertoire at rehearsals, as well as on stage. If I wasn’t pleased with something I heard, I’d let everyone know and that it was expected to be done better next time. Sometimes after a gig, I’d get home not able to sleep because I was so wound up and upset with something that didn’t go the way I wanted it to. I could get short with the others, but they had to realize striving for perfection was for our own good if we wanted to make it musically. I knew everyone was on board, at least that’s what I convinced myself, until one day, my lead guitarist, figuratively, threw cold water in my face. He came by the house to let me know he, the bass player and keyboardist were quitting the band. “Why?” I demanded, “We’ve got something good going on, why do you want to end it?!!” “I agree, we do have something good,” Jeff the guitar said, “We all feel that way, but you never seem to think so, you’re never happy with what we do.” “That’s not true!” I shot back, but Jeff wouldn’t hear any of it. “John, tell me the last time you complimented us on how we performed or that you really had any fun playing.” I always have fun playing music with you guys, but if you’re not serious about making it to the big time you never will, it’s just that simple!” His only answer before leaving, “If it’s robbing you of the fun you’re supposed to be having then making it just isn’t that important, and it’s just that simple.” Hmm, seemed I heard words similar to that before. (You did also if you read last weeks story.)

Jeff and the other two left and started a new band that I went to hear one night, they were actually pretty good, and they looked like they were having an awesome time. They even threw me a bone and let me set in on the drums for a couple of songs, and boy was that fun. Here I had an incredible group and was too wrapped up in myself to even notice or enjoy what we did. As my generation would say, ‘Bummer!’

I recently heard this saying:  “Being happy doesn’t mean that everything is perfect. It means that you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections.”

In my quest to reach the stars, I forgot to notice just how beautiful they were from afar. I took the love I had for making music and made it a chore that I and others could no longer enjoy.

It at times takes a while for an important lesson to sink in this thick scull of mine, but here’s one I finally got. God gives each of us talents of some kind, they don’t have to be the very best or world renown to be used and enjoyed by others, but mostly, you.

When I became of follower of Christ, one of the first verses in the Bible I was drawn to was Galatians 5:22, “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness.” Every one of those has to do with being happy, being content, being satisfied in whatever role God has chosen for you.

“Your talent is God’s gift to you. What you do with it is your gift back to God.”

In the course of my life, “Traveling the Rock Road,” I’ve pretty much sat down the drum sticks and slung a guitar over my shoulder, which was my first love anyway. The majority of my playing now-a-days is to accompany my beautiful wife and her wonderful voice, or when my sons come home and we go to my studio basement to jam (BTW, they’re both better musicians than the Gray One, and I’m proud of it!) or just getting together with some friends to pick and grin. On occasion I’m called on to play in the worship band at our church, something I’m honored to be a part of. There are some good musicians involved there, but I don’t think we’ll ever have to worry about a world tour or anything like that. For me, I just love hearing the music we’re making for the Lord, it never fails to touch my heart and make me want to play my best. But when we begin and the folks that make up the congregation sing, there’s the real talent, the real joy.

Sometimes as I listen to them singing with hearts full of praise, I can barely hold onto my guitar because my sprit is so touched, blessed and happy that I am using my gift to the highest calling!

The boys in the band forgave over the years for how I robbed them of the joy of making music back then; we’ve even spent an evening sitting around a living room playing the old songs. “Guys, we’ve still got it, maybe we should put the old band back together, what da ya think?”

“Hey, where’s everybody going? I was just kidding for Pete sake!!!”

See ya next time friends and family!

I’ve never been much into hero worship or placing some famous person high on a pedestal. I would, however, hold certain people who made a positive mark on my life in a higher esteem, if you please, than others. These generally were common folk that most people never even heard of, but I suppose you could say became a hero to me based on my definition of the word. One of these was a musician named Mike (That was his stage name so we’ll go with that for the story.)

Up to that point Mike was the most talented musician, song writer and vocalist I had ever worked with. I was in a situation of what generally is referred to as “being in the right place at the right time,” and found myself recruited to play in a rock band with a group of performers older and more seasoned than I had ever worked with before; Mike was the leader, and lead vocalist. He possessed this uncanny ability to emulate the voice tone of many of the top singers you heard on the radio back in the 70s. Be it ballad, driving rock ‘n’ roll, blues or even soul music; the listener to Mike would be left with images of the original artist who performed the song we played. And as a showman there was no one better than Mike.  From the moment he took the stage he held the audience in the palm of his hand with his voice, stage appearance and interaction with them; they simply loved him.  Several of the songs we performed were written by Mike and became crowd favorites. There was this hope in the back of everyone in band that we would put together enough material to record an album; everyone that is except my man Mike.

Mike had already worked in the studios collaborating on one song that actually earned a gold record, and a short stint of fame and spotlight.  So it was naturally assumed that with him at the helm of our band we would soon grasp the same proverbial gold ring and someday be playing sold out shows all over the country; yep, we all had that star gaze in our eyes.

Unfortunately, that gaze quickly faded in obscurity one day; Mike quit the band and was gone without saying a word to any of us. I admit I was crushed and it didn’t make a lot of sense to me; there just had to be some reason that he would leave like that. As time went on I learned this wasn’t a sudden disappearing act Mike pulled, this was a norm for him. He had been with bands in several states and each time it appeared things were really great, he would up and leave with no rhyme or reason. Later on, after he abandoned us, I learned he had done the same with two other bands, one being country. Several of the guys I played with were angry because we never did recapture that incredible sound we had when Mike was with us. Eventually the band broke up and I went on to chase the music rainbow with other musicians. Still I never forgot the talent and personality of this musical mentor that always referred to me as John John. Where was he at, what was he doing now, and why did he leave like he did? That answer would come a few years later in a small college town in Northeast Ohio.

I was over in Bowling Green one afternoon visiting a friend who attended school there and we were taking a walk through town. A rather large man, riding a small motorcycle passed us by. He slowed and looked hard in the direction of my friend and me. We weren’t sure what to think of this menacing looking individual with the long black hair flowing out the back of his helmet and a cigarette clinched tightly between his lips, but now he was wheeling that bike around and heading right back toward us. My friend suggested, vigorously that we make a run and duck in a store. I was inclined to agree, until the rider pulled up next to us and yelled out, “Hey John John, what the heck you doing over here?!!” It was Mike. After I assured the person with me that Mike was okay, we exchanged pleasantries before I got around to asking the question that had haunted me over the years. “Mike what happened? We were just about to do something great with the band, and you left, why?” He pulled the cigarette from his lips that was almost burned out, replaced it with a fresh one, lit it with the old smoke, and then began. “John John, we already had something great. Didn’t we have a lot of fun, make some great music, play as much as we wanted and make a lot of people happy?” My answer was yes to all his questions. “All that other stuff, making records, touring and all that is okay, but it’s also a robber; you’re no longer playing because it’s fun and you enjoy it, you’re out there because it’s now a business with a lot of peoples hands out for their share of the pie. Ego becomes major and fun and friendship gets pushed to the side, just not worth it.” I was getting a picture of what happened in his first band and why he now avoided the big time at all cost. He lit one more smoke using the same method he did on the others and right before he sped off he said, “You’re a good musician, John John, and I hope you make it the music field, if that’s what you really want. But remember, it’s not about the fame, it’s about the love of the game.” He gave me a slap across the chest, then hammering down on the throttle of the bike, he was gone. I never saw Mike again, but at least I now understood, and I thank God that He sent Mike to teach me something I needed to learn.

“Talent is God given. Be humble. Fame is man-given. Be grateful. Conceit is self-given. Be careful.” John Wooden

I was focused on what I wanted to be in life, a famous musician, and I didn’t care what it took to get there. To me there wasn’t a cost too big to attain my dream. Here was another “Traveler of the Rock Road” teaching another important lesson to this man; this one was, “Don’t sell out your happiness for something that doesn’t last, it just may not be what you think it is.”

When I gave up chasing the gold ring, I trusted God and gave over to Him any talents I possessed, and everything else that made up who I am. It hasn’t always been easy, but I’ve learned His ways have brought me more joy than I ever could have hoped for.

Philippians 4:6-7 – Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Once again, no argument!

Haven’t seen Mike since that day, but if he’s still around he’d be about 70, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still belting out the tunes. So if you’re ever in a small club where there’s a singer performing that can do one of the best James Brown you ever heard, then easily transition into the mellow sound of Burton Cummings, go up and say, “Hey, John John says ‘hi,’ and don’t worry about him, he got it. He forgot the fame and learned to love the game, the music, but especially the Maker of the music!!
See Ya Soon.

My thought was you just couldn’t help but like this guy. He had an easy smile, overly friendly approach with every individual he met, and an answer or opinion on any topic under the sun. Now if you’re an up and coming candidate for political office, these are certainly positive attributes that one should possess, but when you’re a pint-sized, blond-haired six year old, I imagine to some he could be a little overwhelming. But that was my pal Billy, you never needed to guess what was on his mind, it was out there for the world to see; and no matter what, you might as well go ahead and like him because he was going to like you!

I believe that was the cement that bonded a friendship starting back in 1960 and kept us close the majority of our childhood. Here I was an insecure and confused youngster straight off the bus from southern West Virginia trying not to draw much attention as I started the first day of school in my new hometown of Fremont, Ohio, and there was Billy, the human illustration of where the idea for the energizer bunny came from; a boy who was about as subtle as firecracker in a can of pork n beans, standing in front of me saying, “Hey, you’re new, great, we’re friends now, let’s go play!” So I followed this blond bomber that day, and the next, and a good many days over the next ten years.

It didn’t take long to realize my pal Billy wasn’t exactly like other kids our age. Generally, on a Saturday morning back in the 60s you’d find youngsters watching cartoons, sledding in the winter, playing baseball in the summer, riding bicycles or playing games with friends. My pal Billy, he’d be putting his energy into projects like tearing into an old outboard motor his neighbor threw away to see if he could get it running, working down in the basement with a soldering gun on experiments like trying to wire the entire house into one little on/off switch without burning it down or having his mom find out. Then there was the fun stuff like making homemade parachutes and jumping out his 2^nd story bedroom window and shooting model rockets off in his backyard. Some after launching were never found, but I remember one individual reporting in the paper of a UFO that went over his house. And since the statute of limitations ran out years ago, there’s also the time a neighbor reported to the police someone shot a paper mache missile through their backdoor screen which landed in the middle of the dining room table! As mentioned, when other kids were sledding and biking, my pal Billy was coming up with something more original, like snurfing. The snurfer was the forerunner to snowboarding except smaller with no bindings. Had they had an Olympic event for this suicide board as I called it, I believe Billy would have been a medal contender, he could do maneuvers on one of those boards like no one else. And of course anyone who knew Billy back in the early days knew he was a marvel on that one-wheel mechanism called the unicycle. There was a time I was convinced he was trying to end our friendship by killing me off as he attempted to teach me to ride this leftover from a bicycle demolition derby! But, that was my pal Billy; if it was something no one else was doing, he was all over it, not only learning but excelling.

One of the most amazing qualities about Bill was his instinctive ability to comprehend almost anything by simply watching, studying, and then doing. This uncanny capability was far and above any instructions learned by book or formal education; it was something instinctively ingrained in him and I confess it often left this man more than a little jealous, but still completely in awe of his special gift.

These are traits about the boy I called my pal Billy that really anybody who knew him when we were kids could attest to. But there was something that made our relationship one that no one else shared. Because of my childhood circumstances, Billy became more than my pal, in certain ways he was my ear when I needed to talk and, yes, even a teacher to me. There were no male role models who filled that void in my life; many things other boys were learning from their fathers were foreign to me. Billy went the extra mile, on many occasions, to explain and teach me skills no one else would, including how to ride a bike, then a year later that blasted unicycle! To some I imagine an admission of these shortcomings would be embarrassing, but to me it’s not an embarrassment, but rather a proclamation of not only the friendship, but the heart that was given to me by a very special person God placed in my life when I needed that person most–my pal Billy.

C.S. Lewis said it best;” Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.”

As the years passed, our lives took different paths; I left Ohio and seldom saw my childhood friend again. On occasion when I returned home I would meet someone who would give me an update on my pal Billy and his many adventures as he, what I refer to as, Traveled the Rock Road of life. And with each success and triumph I heard of, my response was always the same, “I’m not surprised in the least,” there was just too much God given ability in him not to have successes. But I believe the report that brought the biggest smile to my face was hearing of his love and commitment to his wife and family; my pal Billy had grown into Bill, man of honor. Awesome!!

On the evening of Thursday, Feb. 5^th, while holding my new granddaughter, I received this message; “A new angel is in Heaven.” My pal Billy was gone, too soon. Looking down at the little angel asleep in my arms my thoughts were, a new life begins on earth; a new life begins in Heaven. I know and believe this because as boys we attended St. John’s Lutheran Church and learned this eternal, valuable life-giving lesson:

John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

I look forward to the day I join my pal Billy and so many others that have gone on to Heaven, and as I pondered this thought a smile came to my face, and I imagined a conversation with a certain blond haired human replication of the energizer bunny, that a person just couldn’t help but like the moment you met him, that would go something like this; “Hey, you’re new here, great! Come on, I’ve got awesome things to show you!” My response, “Great, I’m right with you Billy, just so long as it isn’t a blasted unicycle!!!”

Blessings to each and every one of you.

This is one of the first stories I published when I began “Traveling on the Rock Road.” It’s a story told to me by one of the greatest influences on my life, my Great Aunt Pearl. I’ve been asked several times to repost this narrative, so here on the anniversary of Pearl’s promotion into Heaven 31 years ago, I bring once again (with some reediting) the story I simply call “30 cents revisited.”

I do hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading.

One of the greatest influences on my life was my Great Aunt Pearl. During my 60 years I have had opportunity to meet many individuals who made their mark in fields such as politics, entertainment, business and industry, education, theology, science, writing, culture and so forth. Many made vast contributions to society and several I have emulated a number of the ideologies and positions that I hold today. Of this collection of teachers and mentors, the Grand Lady from West Virginia, my Aunt Pearl still stands head and shoulders above the rest, not by what she achieved scholastically, but according to what she poured into this man’s life by her example and the wonderful stories she told of life lessons she learned, many I continue to remember and learn from. I believe of all the tales she related, the most impressionable was one that I titled simply “30 Cents.” During the Depression years of America a vast amount of the population found themselves in an impoverished state with the grand people of the Appalachian region hit extremely hard by the decline in coal mining, the major source of revenue for many. My Aunt Pearl and her husband, the man we called Price were newlyweds who found themselves without regular income and had to rely on any means possible to survive. Anyone who knew Pearl also knew of her ability for self-sufficiency and determination. One of the main ways she put food on the table was to raise a garden. I have always believed that the adage of the person with the green thumb was a portrait of my beloved Pearl. She always grew the most beautiful gardens back in Ohio that were larger and most fruitful of anyone around us. And back in the late ‘30’s, living in West Virginia; Pearl seemed to have the same knack knowing that when canning season came, she would be able to put up enough food to last them into the next growing season. Pearl told me that it was around this time period she had grown the best garden she had ever put out and was very delighted with all the food she would put up. One major problem stood in the way of reaping the fruits of this harvest, which was the preservative needed to go into the jars to ensure that the food would not spoil after it had been canned. Pearl knew exactly how much she would need and how much it was going to cost, which seemed like a fortune to her at that time—30 cents. Because she could not find work and Price, due to illness was not able to work, money was something they seldom had. When relating this story to me I remember how she paused for a moment, then with determination in her voice she emphasized how she knew that the only answer to her dilemma would come from earnest prayer to God. So she had cried out saying, “Lord, I know you didn’t give me all this, just to have it go to rot. Please send me 30 cents.” When she finished her prayer, she began remembering a few places where there might be a little change. So the search began—in old pocketbooks, coats, trousers, behind furniture, down in the sofa cushions, every crack and crevice that was in the house. This undertaking took up an entire morning, but when the pursuit was over, and she sat down to count the pile of pennies she had gathered, there were exactly 30. You might have thought that she would have got up and made a run to the store right then to purchase that precious preservative she needed so badly, but she could not move. Pearly Mae told me how she sat there for the longest time crying and giving praise to her Lord and Savior for how richly He had blessed her.

Philippians 4:19, “But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”

Through my childhood years, I came to know this story very well as Pearl would relate it to me on numerous occasions, not with the purpose of telling how hard she had it, but for a two part lesson in life. First, never take anything that you have for granted, not even something as little as a penny. The second and most important point she drove home was to never forget how much God loved us and if we put our trust in Him, He would never fail. She used the example from the Bible of the 30 pieces of silver that after Judas received became completely worthless once he realized that it represented betrayal and a complete separation from the One who loved him most.

God blessed my Pearly Mae by giving her 30 pennies and she was always thankful to Him because of it. Over the course of her life as a “Traveler of the Rock Road” God continued to bless her, and she in turned blessed many others; but those stories are for another time.

If you ever have the privilege of visiting my beautiful birth home of Southern West Virginia, there’s a cemetery located on a hillside there in the town of Princeton. Half way up the hill is a grave site with the marker “Pearl Mae Price”. If you sit there for a moment you can look out at the beautiful mountains this saintly woman cherished so deeply. And if you happen to be a treasure hunter and have a pen knife, dig one inch from the bottom right hand corner of the gravestone and you will find 30 cents I placed there many years ago. (Do me a favor though and put them back after you find them.) I try to dig them up and hold them whenever I visit. Holding these coins in my hand is a reminder not only of how much God blessed Pearl’s life, but how very much she blessed mine and all with whom she came in contact.

She truly possessed a wealth that far exceeds anything many in this world could understand as riches.

“I do not come to God that He may give me all that I want, but I come to Him that He may give me all that I need.” Author Unknown

As each of you continues your own “Travels on the Rock Road,” may your riches in life go far beyond what worldly treasures can offer.

See ya next time!!

First time I met Big Joe my thoughts were something like this, “Good Lord, I must be at the wrong place! Should I pull out of the driveway before he sees me? Should I go get the police?” All I know is when I pulled in the drive of the big country house along the river there was Joe with a young boy probably about 15 and both were talking loud and excited. Then, “Slap!” Joe swung a big beefy open hand around that landed on the side of the boy’s head knocking him to the ground. “Don’t lie to me, don’t you ever lie to me, you understand?!!! Face flushed and tears flowing from the boy’s eyes he sobbed out the words, “I’m sorry Joe, I won’t do it again, I promise!” “Get up to your room until I call you!” And the young man was up running in the house as fast as he could; and I thought, “He made that boy cry.”

“Howdy, you the volunteer from the school?” I was hesitant to answer, but got out a weak “yes” to his question. The college I attended required that each student take part in some program that was a reach out to the community. The Ranch as I’ll call it in my story, was a place where boys came who had gotten into serious trouble, kind of a last chance to clean up their act or get sent to some reformatory. My first thought was “I think this would be a worthwhile organization to lend a hand to. My second though was, “What on earth have I gotten myself into?!!”

“Okay come on in the house and I’ll get you started with one of the boys.” I followed Joe up the steps thinking this guy’s built like a tank, all arms and shoulders and no neck.” When we got inside he yelled, “Jimmy, get down here!” Another boy about the same age as the first I saw shot down the stairs and stood almost at attention. Joe in a rough voice stated, “This fellow is going to help you with your homework, go get your schoolbooks.” With an almost inaudible voice this young one said, “Joe, I’m sorry, I forgot to bring my books home.” That big meaty hand shot forth again, but this time to grab under the arm and push this kid up against the wall. “You’re supposed to bring your books home no matter if you have homework or not, right?” Joe was growling out. I could tell he was in pain by the way Joe gripped him. He got out a very quiet, “Yes.” “You’ll eat in the kitchen alone tonight after everyone else does. Now get out and go clean in the barn and he gave him a hard shove; and he made the boy cry.

Joe and I headed into the kitchen where he poured us cups of coffee, then he began to talk to me in a voice calmer than any I heard him use up to that point. “All the boys that come to the Ranch have had serious run-ins with trouble, most to the point that they’re looking at a life of hate, anger and jail, all because someone didn’t care enough to teach them right and wrong; that becomes my job and I only have a short time in their lives to make a difference.” “Okay, Joe,” I responded. “You certainly know more than I do about what you’re doing, it just seems a little over the top, couldn’t you get in trouble for hitting these boys? He quickly responded, “Oh I have, member of the board of directors for the Ranch have been out here a couple of times. They ask me, “Joe, did you hit a boy, did you make him cry? And I say sure did and then add, but he never did the same stunt again that got him swatted in the first place! Other directors that were before me never lasted long because the let the boys run over them, that doesn’t do either of them any good. The director can’t lead because he can’t control and the boys go on through life not learning from their mistakes, until it’s too late.” His voice got a little softer; “I care for each of these guys more than that.” “Got a heck of a way to show it,” I thought but kept my mouth shut. He then called for another young man to bring his books and sit with me at the table before excusing himself and heading out to the barn. It wasn’t long before I heard a blood curdling scream coming from the barn. “What’s going on out there?” I said almost panicked. The lad sitting with me responded, “Jimmy’s alright, Joe’s probably tickling him or holding him upside down or something. After we get in trouble Joe always talks to us, then plays around to show he’s no longer mad.” “Do you like Joe?” I questioned. “Well none of us like it when he’s mad, but otherwise he’s great! He teaches us a lot of things and takes us places like we’re one big family.” Then the boy’s eyes got big. On Fridays if everyone has done what they’re supposed to, we have the big event!” “Big event, what’s that?” “After dinner we all have to sit real quiet until the last person finishes eating. Then Joe will say, “Okay, let’s go.” And we run into the living room pull all the furniture away from the middle of the room, Joe comes in, drops to his knees and we all gang tackle him!” Now I’m chuckling, “Wow, him against all you guys, isn’t that a little unfair?” “Unfair? We’ve never once pinned him! He throws us all over the room, you get banged up a little, but Joe doesn’t get too rough, it’s a riot!!”

I must have been so enthralled in the boy’s story I didn’t hear Joe come back in the house and head upstairs, for now I heard another boy crying. My young instructor in the methodology of Big Joe piped up, “That’s Jeff, the boy you saw him with when you first got here. Joe’s talking to him about what he did, why it was wrong and what could happen if he doesn’t learn to do right. Then he gives a big hug and tells you he loves you, we’ve all had that with Joe.”

A whole different picture began to emerge of the man I first thought would make a better guard on a prison chain gang than the director of a home for wayfaring boys. Joe believed if a boy learns to cry for the right reasons, you have the foundations of a true man. Just maybe there was method to his madness.

“Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what is above its strength, pleads no excuse of impossibility; for it thinks all things lawful for itself, and all things possible.” Thomas a Kempis

Now, I know that some of you do not agree with Joe’s ways and discipline, and that’s fine; like I said I was skeptical when I first saw him in action also. And had I encountered a bunch of kids terrified or angry with the way they were treated I might have kept that mindset. But what I found was a group of about a dozen delinquents who for the first time were getting good grades in school, doing work around the house, learning good behavior and habits they had never practiced before. Most of all I think they were leaning what it meant to be really loved, and they liked it!

The day came when Joe left the ranch, I don’t know if he finally wore out his welcome with the board or if this “Traveler of Rock Road” went to another destination that needed a person to give love the way he did. I do know that a group of the toughest boys that anyone ever tried to harness, stood in silence, as he hugged each and said loved them before he drove away, and he made the boys cry.

So do I have a biblical point to my story today? Well sure, didn’t you catch it?

Okay, here it is, see if you agree that my man Joe met the criteria given.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

For me, I got no argument; way to love ‘em, Joe!!
See you soon!

Maybe it was the way I was raised that brought about the feelings and connections I have with a few people. No brother, sisters, grandparents or even a dad, the only immediate family was my mom; a great aunt and great uncle to fill the void.

Then there were aunts, uncles and cousins that I had as relatives and loved, but all of them lived far away from me and at best I only got to see any of them once a year. So perhaps that is the reason I bonded with a few people that became more than friends, they were the family I never had. These few have known me for the better part of my life, they’re people that if I didn’t see them for years I could still reconnect with at any point and we could continue the same as if time had never passed.

One such person was a young man I met in the 7^th grade back in ‘67. The only thing we had in common was a love for playing music as I was a drummer and he played guitar, but that was enough to start a friendship that’s lasted 48 years now. During this nearly half decade the two us had quite a few adventures, playing music, traveling, and even sharing apartments. Also along the way we’ve shared laughter, sorrow, pain, successes, setbacks and achievements; but I think the favorite element to life we experienced together is talking about our dreams. I believe the true test of how strong a relationship you have with another is the ability to confide in them your deepest thoughts and yearnings, knowing they can be trusted to keep them private to everyone else.

That’s the way it’s been with my man Lynn starting as young teenagers and here we are now on the threshold of becoming senior citizens. It’s certainly been great knowing I can drop in on him without prior notice for some conversation, maybe a little golf down the road from his place, back to the house to beat on a couple of guitars playing every C.C.R. song our memories can call up, finally out to the barn with Mr. Sam Adams, watching the moon rise, talking and remembering. To me that’s a friend, family, a brother; someone who’s always there for you.

Saying all that, you can imagine my sense of urgency and fear when I was informed yesterday Lynn had suffered a heart attack and was being kept in a sedated sleep in a Toledo Hospital, then to hear this morning things had taken a turn for the worst and he may not make it, even with surgery. “Wait a minute, NO, this isn’t happening! I’ve lost many loved ones over three scores of existence, most recent the closest cousin I had in the world, but not this one God. We’ve gone through too much together for it to end now when there is so much more left to do and accomplish. For Pete sakes, we’ve haven’t made it to the nursing home yet where we were going to chase residents and nurses in our motorized wheelchairs equipped with stereo systems playing Steppenwolf’s “Born to be Wild!”

That was a quick conversation I had with God, also reminding Him of Lynn’s wife, children, grandkids and a great grandchild; he’s still needed by many, including yours truly. When my short rant was over, I sat quietly and sometimes quiet can be thunderously loud, especially when God is saying “Be still and listen.”

It was then my heart, mind and ears were flooded with; “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.” “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.”

The reality came to me that Lynn and I also shared something else, a belief and hope in Jesus Christ as Savior. Then that little voice was back again, “So John, what is it, are you trusting in Me or just practicing a religion?” I use that term a lot and it can be real aggravating when God uses it as a tool to get my attention, and kick me in the butt!

There was a peace that came over me, one that I’ve experienced on other occasions when brought to the point of saying, “Lord no matter what, I will trust in you.”

As I have explained what made Lynn closer than a brother, these few words are what makes a faith into something real, it’s either all or nothing; I choose all in Christ.

“We must cease striving and trust God to provide what He thinks is best and in whatever time He chooses to make it available. But this kind of trusting doesn’t come naturally. It’s a spiritual crisis of the will in which we must choose to exercise faith.” Charles R. Swindoll

My prayer now is, “Lord, in Jesus name, please heal Lynn; but no matter what, I will trust you. Amen”

Sometimes “Traveling the Rock Road” can wear me down, get the best of me and even make me want to stop the journey; but I know who waits for me at the end, that makes it all the more worthwhile!

As for my friend, my brother and fellow sojourner Lynn, well while writing this I’ve received word that he came through surgery well and is now headed to recovery. Tears are now falling making it hard to finish this, but they’re happy, elated, and rejoicing tears! Good Lord’s will, I’ll head over later this week to see my buddy.

Maybe we’ll make future plans to purchase those Harley Wheelchairs with the high powered stereos. What da ya think Steppenwolf, or something for subtle?

Steppenwolf it is!!! See ya next time.