Traveling the Rock Road

The calls started back in the mid 70s when I had left home, married and moved to another state.  The individual on the other end of the line would be very distraught, almost uncontrollable during one of these fits of anger.  At the moment of these emotional meltdowns I would hear some of the most heinous stories of pain and cruelty this person suffered at the hands of another, a man who seemed to draw strength and enjoyment and causing others, particularly the one now on the phone who sometimes was yelling, and sometimes in tears from the anguish she had just received at the hands of this ogre of life. But it only took just a few times before I could recognize where this person was heading when they called, and I would listen to allowing them time to vent before saying the same thing, over and over again; “He died years back, he can’t hurt you anymore, you have to let go of this.  Please, I’m begging you; stop thinking about him before it drives you crazy!  I’m here, and I love you, Mom.

That’s the life mom and I led in my early years, scared we would do something to bring the wrath of my great-aunt’s husband down on either of us.  We lived with them because mom didn’t make enough money to support us and as bad as this man was, Great-Aunt Pearl had been a 2^nd mom to my mom since she was young when her real mom died of cancer.  I believe Sweet Pearl’s greatest concern back then was seeing that mom and I had a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs.  Her “beloved” hubby, on the other hand, had a different outlook on us to the point I believed he woke up every morning thinking how he could make our lives a living hell. The last beating came after he got upset with me and swung his hand to hit me in the head.  It wouldn’t have been too bad of a shot; except he had a hammer in his hand (which truthfully I think he forgot about in his anger).  The blood quickly flowed down my head and into my shirt.  When mom saw the damage she instantly went off on him, which in turn caused her to get a beating not worth reliving here in thought or word.  Like I said, as bad as that day was, he never laid a hand on us again.  He had grown older and more feeble from health problems and the next time he went to hurt her, well lets just say she put a scare in him, with a certain sharp kitchen instrument and a promise of a certain demise that would come to him in his sleep if he ever touched her or me again.  Years later she would say, “I would have done that sooner had I known he was such a coward” because from that point on he never touched either of us again.  During his last year of life he was bed stricken from cancer and I very seldom saw him since I refused to go in his room.  When he passed away, I did not go to his viewing nor his funeral; my thinking was he was gone and it shouldn’t have been a time of mourning, but rather declared a national holiday!  The only remorse I felt was for my Aunt Pearl; she knew how he was, but in her own way loved the man.  Other than that I saw his passing as the world finally being rid of a hate monger on the same level as a Hitler, he was gone and soon to be forgotten.  Sorry, didn’t work that way.

My mother was a wonderful woman, wouldn’t have traded her for anyone.  But truthfully speaking she had issues she suffered from, physically, emotionally, and even mentally to some extent.  Because of those issues her mind would drift back into her past, some on the good moments of life, but more often on the darker moments, particularly the abuse she suffered at the hands of this man.  It would only take a instant where someone or something would remind her of those terrible days, and like a time machine she would be whisked back to that moment, reliving every hateful word and every violent blow.  When that happened her only escape was to get on the phone and call me, talk it out and then allow me to ease her heart and mind that he could no longer hurt her, only that wasn’t true.  Because the memory was so sharp and vivid of all that occurred, you could say he was still punishing her from the grave; but to tell the full story, she wasn’t alone.  After one of our conversations where I tried to persuade her everything was alright now, I would spend the next few days battling my own demons, reliving it just as she did.  The only difference was I didn’t tell anyone what I was going through, didn’t think anyone would understand.  After all, how could you tell someone you were still tortured by a person five, ten, twenty years after they passed away?  No one would understand what I thought; it just wasn’t natural to hold on to animosity and bitterness toward a person who couldn’t hurt you any more, right?

The day finally came when I realized I couldn’t handle the situation and what it was doing to me let alone my mom.  Going to a pastor friend of mine, I opened up and told him the whole story of hurt and shame from my past, the first time I had ever spoken to anyone other than my Lady.  He listened intently until I finished, then there was a long moment of silence before he began.  In a soft, rather reserved voice, he told me his own story of hurt at the hands of another, the only difference was this was at the hands of an individual he had come to know and love like a big brother.  His story was every bit as terrible as mine, even worse in some situations and I listened sometimes with eyes clinched tightly shut at what he related to me. “So you and me, we’re part of this minority of silent sufferers,” I said.  He quickly shot back, “Minority nothing!  John, you have no idea how many there are just like you and me, except you said the anger pops up from time to time; I know ones who fight this demon everyday of their lives.” “Well then, since there are so many of us, I guess there’s no real way to rid yourself of it,” I answered, “Just toughen up and deal with it the best you can.”  Smiling my friend answered back, “Now did I ever say that?” and he picked a well worn Bible and read these words; “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice.  Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.”  “John, I know what you and your mom are experiencing because I talk to people regularly that are in the same boat, many though have this problem with someone that’s still alive and causing hardship to them, that’s even a harder situation.  With each situation, I’ve seen that healing, real healing only happens when forgiveness is given, no strings attached.  No expecting the abuser to come and ask for it first, no expecting them to suddenly change; for you see it’s really not about them, it’s about you healing from the hurt just as you received healing from God when he forgave you through Christ.  Do you have to trust them after that?  I know I wouldn’t!  But then again I’ve found it was the only way to finally be released from the hurt, and the hate.”

When I left his office I spoke these words for the first time, “By the power in the name of Jesus Christ, I forgive Arthur Chester Price for all the hurt he did to me.” And then I did it again, and again, over the next week I probably did it a hundred times.  Over the course of my life since that day I’ve done it many times more but none in the last ten years I think.  If a hateful word of his popped into my mind (and it did often); I’d say, “Price I forgive you!”  If a momentary vision of how he hurt me materialized, I said, “Price, I forgive you!”  And then there was the hardest, dealing with how much he hurt my mom, that was the hardest, but when I did what I had to do it was like being cleansed from inside out; “PRICE, I FORGIVE YOU!!!”

Often I’m reminded of a quote by C.S. Lewis that sums it up like this; “To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.” Personally, if I’m to call myself a Christian, where do I have an argument against this?

I’m not going to close thinking I’ve convinced anyone that I have the answer to healing a terrible hurt; I only ask that you give it some thought and then at least try.  What do you have to lose?  You just may gain more than you ever realize you could.  It took my mother years to come to that point, and to also stop praying, “God, I guess if you want me to, then I forgive the no good rotten *^%$($#@!!  Oh well, like I said it takes a while, some longer than others.

Fellow Travelers of the Rock Road, I beseech you, I beg you, if you’re dealing with unforgiveness, give consideration to what I’ve written.  Do not let one more day go by robbing you of joy, and even more, life!

Let me leave you with a quote from the book, The Shack, which I recommend to any and all who are dealing with this problem;

“Forgiveness is not about forgetting.  It is about letting go of another person’s throat……Forgiveness does not create a relationship.  Unless people speak the truth about what they have done and change their mind and behavior, a relationship of trust is not possible. When you forgive someone, you certainly release them from judgment, but without true change, no real relationship can be established………Forgiveness in no way requires that you trust the one you forgive. But should they finally confess and repent, you will discover a miracle in your own heart that allows you to reach out and begin to build between you a bridge of reconciliation………Forgiveness does not excuse anything………You may have to declare your forgiveness a hundred times the first day and the second day, but the third day will be less and each day after, until one day you will realize that you have forgiven completely.  And then one day you will pray for his wholeness……”  Blessed Healing to All!!

I think it started about 35 years ago when I felt convicted that if I was going to be serious about this way of life called Christianity, there were things I needed to a make a priority in my very being.  Now for some I noticed that means straightening up the way they live by ceasing to do certain things and shunning others who stilled practiced these vile ways, kinda like the old song “I don’t smoke and I don’t chew and I don’t go with girls who do” attitude.  Okay, if that’s where you’re at then; well, I think I’ll just pass on this and tell you what this change of life meant for me as a follower of Christ.  As I have studied the scriptures, I’ve come to believe that it can be summed up in 4 words:  “Faith, Mercy, Grace, Forgiveness,” and all work in correlation with the other three.  So, if this is what I felt was the essence of who I was spiritually, then it was up to me on how well they manifested in my life.  The one that took priority those many years ago was forgiveness, not bestowing it, but asking for it.  

It could be said (as well as being truthful) when looking back at the life I led years prior to that moment that I wasn’t the nicest person you could have hung out with.  Back then I could have started my own religion, “Chief Pastor of the 1^st Church of Bugger and Bloated Heads!”  Now, I wasn’t the worse person around by any means, but I did have a way of looking out for me and what my wants were ahead of others, even to the point of causing some harm by my attitude. (Just being honest here, okay? Stay with me.)  But it wasn’t until years later that the truth of who I was and what I had done came home to roost and it truly sickened me! After talking to others, reading what the Bible had to say and praying a ton’s worth that the decision was made; I would contact every person that my memory came up with that I had wronged, tell them I was sorry, and ask for their forgiveness.  Again, don’t get the wrong idea that I’m trying to show how wonderful I had become.  As the old saying goes, “That dog don’t hunt!” This was something that weighed heavy on my heart that I felt God wanted me to do.  So the quest began.  It wasn’t an easy task trying to remember at first; but I think about the time I felt I had everyone I wronged, God would put a new name in my brain.  (Something He still does today.)  To some I wrote letters explaining what I was doing and asking them to forgive me from how I might have hurt them.  Others I tracked down phone numbers and gave them my speech and request their forgiveness that way.  Then there were a few that I went to personally to carryout my endeavor, these were folks that I really to needed to see face to face to make things right.  When all was finished, the responses were assorted but fruitful.  Some reactions were “Boy, that was a long time ago and I really don’t remember; thank you for what you’ve done, yes I forgive you.”  Then there were the ones that were more like this; “Oh yeah Miller, you definitely were not the pretty end of a horse, but thank you for making it right, I forgive you.”  A few others were willing to do the same, but I could tell they were guarded in how they interacted with me; like saying “I’ll forgive you but just in case let’s not plan any outings together, okay?”  I deserved that, I know, but it still made me feel better to get it done. “Thank you Lord for allowing me to do this and have good results, I know now I’m doing your will!” 

Then the moment came when I went to see an old friend (who no longer fell into that category) to try and right a terrible wrong I had done to him when we were teenagers.  As well as the others had gone, I had every reason to believe this would go just as good.  To put it in the “word” of some of my young friends, “DUDE!!”  When he opened the door I was quick to state why I was there, but not as quick as he was with his response.  “No, I don’t believe you, no I don’t forgive you  no I don’t want to talk to you.  Don’t even try to convince me that you’ve changed; a leopard doesn’t change his spots and people like you don’t change their ways.  Now get off my property and don’t come back.”  And the door went SLAM!  Several thoughts went through my mind looking at that closed door in my face.  I could leave and try again at a later date, I could knock once more and plead with him to forgive me, or I could get real angry, kick the door in, stand on his chest while saying, “Look greaseball, I’m a changed man.  Now you either listen and forgive me of I’m gonna rip off one of your arms and beat you half to death with it!!”  No, I just don’t think that would work the way I hoped it would.  I turned around, headed to my car and left.

With all the successes I had you would think that one rejection wouldn’t bother me, but it stuck out in my heart and mind like a sore thumb.  “Lord, why did this one fail like it did? Was I wrong to approach this person and stir up bad feelings again?  What can I do to make it right and have him forgive me?”  The answer came and at first I didn’t like it, but came to realize it was right.  What can I do to get this man to forgive me?  “Nothing!”

When it comes to hurting people, one has to realize that to some it was a deeper hurt than to others.  That why in Matthew it tells us those words that probably everyone knows be they a Christian or not, “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you.”

In the scope of life, one truth stands forth no matter who you are or what you believe; there in only one person that you can control their actions and attitudes, and that one person is you. Each of us must make a decision on how we live, how we react to situations, and how we treat others.  Chuck Swindoll said it this way, “We cannot change our past. We can not change the fact that people act in a certain way. We can not change the inevitable.  The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude.”

I’ve never contacted the person in question again, perhaps he wasn’t the only one who didn’t forgive me.  I told you that there were a few that were guarded in their approach to me.  Then there were some letters I sent that I did not receive a response to; perhaps they did forgive me but saw no reason to respond.  Or perhaps like my old friend, they just slammed the door in my face with a more silent approach.  I’ll probably never know, but that’s no longer the important matter here.  What’s important is how I choose to conduct my life day in and day out.  The Palmist says this, “Test me, O Lord, and try me, examine my heart and my mind.” Back to looking out for me first, but not the same as before. Now for the purpose of serving my Lord, and serving others; that’s the right heart, the servant’s heart, really, the heart of happiness.

I still occasionally think of my old friend who once walked side by side with me Traveling the Rock Road.  And as I remember that time in life it brings a smile to my face as I picture us as kids once more, laughing and not having a care in the world as long as we were together.  Of course it’s no longer about how he sees me, but still, it’s how I see him; a person worthy of forgiveness like all of us, and someone that can always use a good prayer on their behalf. Who better to do that than a friend, whether he acknowledges it or not.  Awesome!!

Side note: I wish to thank all who have been reading my blog; it’s been a little overwhelming and I expect to hit 10,000 reads this year at the present rate.

All I can say is it’s gotta be a God thing.  I’m good with that!!   

I think I might have been around 15 when the prettiest little gal these eyes had ever looked upon became my girlfriend.  Hair like dark silk, a face like a princess and a voice so soft and gentle it almost sounded like a melody when she spoke.  I had met the girl of my dreams and just knew this was going to be a long wonderful relationship.  Well, in the scheme of life I suppose two weeks could be looked on as long, but it certainly took me by surprise not to mention made my head hurt both literally and figuratively.

While over visiting my new sweetie, sitting on the couch in the basement watching TV and holding hands, I waited until the opportune time presented itself and reached over to give her a kiss.  Suddenly there was this shrill voice coming from a corner in the basement, “I’m Tell Mom, I’m telling Mom!”  Enter the obnoxious little brother who had been hiding, spying on us and waiting for the best moment to let his presence be known.  My girlfriend bolted off the couch and ran over to grab him, but he was too fast and got away.  Now my pretty princess was sobbing her eyes out knowing if he told she would be in trouble.  “You’d better go,” she told me, “I’ll see if I can fix things before he runs his mouth, I’ll see you at school.”  On the way home I was feeling so bad for my girl because she was sad, while at the same time angry at the little twerp who caused all the problems, just give me a chance and I would see that he never caused problems again!!  At school she told me everything was okay, “I bribed him by doing all his chores so he wouldn’t say anything.  Come over this Saturday, but we’ll have to be a lot more careful.”  Oh, I would be there Saturday, but with the intentions of us never to be bothered by this brat again.  Once again we were in the basement, but this time we didn’t even hold hands. When the coast finally looked clear, she moved over and let me put my arm around her; that’s when we heard that evil penetrating voice once more, “I’m telling mom!”  This time I was the one jumping from the couch after the bratty brother and caught him before he made it up the steps.  With one hand grabbing him by the front of the shirt and the other on his face squeezing his cheeks, I began in my harshest voice to let him know what would happen if he opened his mouth, only I didn’t get the chance.  I suddenly felt like I was in a karate move and a female Bruce Lee was unloading on me with kicks and punches from every direction. “You let go of my brother, don’t you ever put your hands on him like that!  Just get out; I don’t want to see you again!!”  What the heck just happened?!!  Here I thought I was doing the right thing and I come away with bruises on my shins, a little less hair to the back of my head and my right ear nearly torn off, Whoa!! Girls, who can figure them out?  It would be some 25 years later before I realized it had nothing to do with being a girl, it was something much deeper.

I was driving home one summer evening back in the late 90s.  By this point in life I was now the father of three teenagers, two boys and a girl with the daughter being the oldest. With my Lady and I being only children we never experienced or knew about the adverse conditions that could arise from time to time with youngin’s being raised up under the same roof.  It got loud at times, but I figured as long as there wasn’t bloodshed they’d grow out of this phase; least that was the hope and prayer.  Truthfully, I yearned to see some evidence that they truly loved each other they way their mother and I hoped they would, that evidence was about to play out in a supermarket parking lot.  Recognizing a couple of the kids standing in the lot as my own and having a feeling there was trouble about to start, I circled around and came up the back side of the store.  Something told me just to sit, and watch.  My son and a couple of his friends had been walking across the parking lot when a car full of older teens pulled up beside them with the idea of beating the tar out of them.  Don’t you just love the way bullies think?  They’re always bravest when in a group and picking on ones smaller and weaker!  (Okay, I’m done venting.)  Before any action could play out our “hero” for that moment came walking out of the store, a yell to get everyone’s attention and it was Jane Dandy to the rescue Jack!!!

Now get a mental picture of this, okay; you have two groups of boys facing each other with a with a really hacked off gal standing in the middle exchanging words with one of the biggest letting him know “Your mama will have to have you DNA tested to prove you’re her son by the time I get done with you if you lay a hand on my brother!”  The standoff lasted a few more minutes and the bullies chose the better side of valor (and embarrassment) by jumping back in their car and leaving.  One word came to me that evening; family.

In both cases I was being shown that in a true loving family relationship there can be spats, disagreements, and even trouble at times, but that’s not to be taken as a lack of love.  Both girls taught me that no matter what, family was first and foremost.  It didn’t matter what the past was, it didn’t matter what problems they had, what did matter was the true love they possessed, not in words, but in deed for each other; like I said Family.

These have been two good memories about two loving sisters (even if one gave me a beating I just quit hurting from about a week ago!) and I could quit here with the old adage that blood is thicker than water.  But once again I was shown something more, I was shown Christ.  The number one attraction to me about Christianity was a God that no matter what I did, He would never stop loving me; that when there was no place to turn, He would always be there for me.  He tells me that clearly, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” And then there’s one of my favorites; “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Family

As you Travel along the Rock Road, remember who God blessed you with as family be it genetic, spiritual, or relational like close, dear friends.  They’re there for a reason, they’re a part of you to cherish, protect and love with all your heart.  As for you young men courting your young lady, beware of the little brother, and for Pete’s sake don’t touch him!  Bribe the little bugger; you’ll live a more painless life!

Last week I told of the accident our youngest son had been in and what the end result was, which his mother and I still rejoice and praise the lord for; but that wasn’t the end of the story.  There was more that had to be done, one more lesson that had to be taught. Justin and his friends had been drinking on the night of the accident and being 19 it was considered underage drinking in the state of Indiana, and so he would have to appear in court and answer to the charge.  We talked about what he wanted to do and his answer was, “I just want to get this all behind me so I’m to plead guilty and accept whatever the consequences are.”  Another one of those moments that makes you proud to be a parent.

On the day of the court hearing Justin and 2 of the others involved in the accident went together and I went along for moral support. The courtroom was packed with law offenders, most alcohol related and many in the same age bracket as the kids with me. The judge, an elderly man, was mild mannered in his approach while at the same time did not put up with any nonsense in his court. Two young men were talking when the judge called one by name.  The look of horror was written all over his, as if to say, “Oh boy, I’m in big trouble now!”  The judge calmly instructed him to take a seat in a far corner and the young man was up moving quickly.

Now it was time to get down to business; he began calling one name after the other, having people  stand in front of him, reading the charges and asking them if they would like to make a plea.  Some pled not guilty and were instructed that they would be contacted at a later date on when trial would be.  Most though pled guilty and the judge handed down a verdict as to what their punishment would me.  The majority of the judgments weren’t that bad with many getting suspended sentences.  I could see this was putting my kids more at ease; that is until they stood before him and entered the guilty plea.  “Since you have pled guilty to the charge of underage drinking, I hereby sentence you to 30 days in the county jail.”  I thought they may have to call the EMTs in, especially for the biggest guy in our group who looked like he was about to hit the floor! After the judge let it sink in for a moment he then followed up, “But I’m going to suspend the jail time and sentence you to two weekends of community service.”  There was a giant sigh of relief, including yours truly, with the final verdict and we headed home each one of the kids knowing they had dodged a giant bullet, but still there was one more lesson to be learned.

The 1^st Saturday morning came and Justin headed over to the high-school where he was supposed to report for community service. A small area of trees and brush was near there and it was going to be his job, along with the others, to clean it out.  Several hours passed and I decided to take a ride over to where they were working and see how it was going. Approaching the site, I could see Justin, his friends and some of the other young people from court busying themselves with hoes, rakes and shovels, some clearing out debris, while others were laying and spreading mulch.  I waved to my son and the crew and kept driving, but then, I saw him.  Amongst all these young offenders was an older man that I couldn’t get a good look at.  He was wearing a flannel shirt, bib overalls and a large straw hat that hid most of his features, but it was still obvious he was much older than the rest. But as a worker age certainly wasn’t a factor, he was going stride for stride with the rest of the “jail birds” out there.  “Now what could this old fella have done?” I thought. “Probably just a town drunk working off his latest altercation with the law,” I surmised.

WRONG!!

When our Justin got home that afternoon, he was worn out.  He and the others had put in a hard day of work.  After a meal and some rest time, we made small talk about what he did that day, but one question was really on my mind.  “Boo (My son’s nickname), the older man in the bibs working with you today, who is he and what did he do to earn community service?”  My son gave a small chuckle and answered, “He didn’t do anything, he wanted to be there with us, Dad.  That was the judge.”  “What?!!”  I responded.

“Yeah, he came the same time the rest of did, took a roll call and then said, “Let’s get busy.”  He kept us all moving, taught us a lot about landscaping and probably outworked half the crew.  He was fun also, something about having him there with us, working just as hard as we were made it seem less like punishment and more like a project we were all in together.”  One word came to mind, and I could say it foreword and backward both–WOW!  If ever I had seen a working model of God’s grace and mercy, it was in this man.

Psalm 103:8-14 reads, “The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.  He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.   As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.”

This judge’s only duty was to hear what the crime (sin) was and to hand down judgment, nothing more.  But he showed he cared for each of these criminals (sinners) by working with them and guiding them along the way to the fulfillment of their debt; redemption.

Phil Yancey, one of my favorite writers has a quote that kind of reminds me of this judge, and redeemer.  “I have come to know a God who has a soft spot for rebels, who recruits people like the adulterer David, the whiner Jeremiah, the traitor Peter, and the human-rights abuser Saul of Tarsus.  I have come to know a God whose Son made prodigals the heroes of his stories and the trophies of his ministry.”

On the final day of community service, the crew stopped at lunch to eat the food the judge brought in for them.  Then he gave them a lecture on life, on why it’s important to do right and live in such a way that others and especially they could see good in them. After that he released everyone from their duties and told them he hoped to see them again, but as their friend, not as their judge.  A preacher friend of mine called Frank puts what was done here like this; “Grace, receiving what we don’t deserve, Mercy, not receiving what we do deserve.”

As we Travel the Rock Road, each and every one of us, there will be times when we fall or even fail to live up to what we know is right.  At times like those we have to decide what we want to do or for that matter if we want help to recover.  There’s One who has the ability to be a judge at your trial, but the more I read about Him the more I realize He prefers to be a Friend, a Helper, a Redeemer; “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”  For the Gray One here, well I think I’ll choose Plan B!

Thanks for reading this week!!!

Boom!  Boom!  Boom!  What is that?  Is someone breaking into the house with a battering ram or what?!!  The time was well past midnight, I had worked a ton of hours this week and all I wanted was a solid night’s sleep.  Cathy and I had gone to bed, but didn’t have the phone in the bedroom with us so as not to be disturbed.  Now someone was beating on the front door so hard and long I thought they were going to smash it in.  Opening it I found the neighbor lady on the other side with a look of terror plastered across her face.  I didn’t even get a chance to ask what was wrong as she was blurting it out as I opened the door.  “John the hospital called me because they couldn’t raise you and someone knew we lived next door; there’s been an accident, a bad one, Justin was involved, but I don’t know if he’s okay or not.”  Now I’m wide awake and yelling to Cathy what was going on.  We were both dressed in minutes and heading out the door and down the road to the hospital.

This was the second time in my life I was called out in the middle of the night because a loved one of mine was in a serious accident. The first, for those who didn’t read last week’s blog was for my Great Aunt Pearl who had a major hand in raising me.  The accident happened in my birth state of West Virginia where I drove most of the night and the next day to reach her, only to have her pass away one hour after arrival.  Depression set in on me that fateful day and stayed for a number of years.  Now, 19 years later, I was once again racing to a hospital because of a car accident, only this was one closer, not only in distance, but in relationship; this was my son.

There had been five teenagers in the car when the crash occurred, two in the front and three in backseat with Justin sitting in the middle with no seatbelt.  The boy driving had taken a curve too fast, went off the road smashed head on into a tree.  The impact was so violent it caused Justin to be catapulted out of the backseat, past the front and then crash through the windshield and on to the hood of the car.  The young man in the passenger’s front seat died instantly on impact.  At this point I knew our son was alive, but did not know how severe his injuries were.  My head was spinning and my stomach was tied in a knot so bad I thought I’d lose everything in it.  Once again I was crying out, “Please God, not this, not my baby boy!”  The pain was there, just like before.  The fear of the unknown was back, just like before.  But then, something happened, something real, something audible if only to me.  “Didn’t you dedicate him to me as a babe?  Did not he accept me as Savior years prior?  Do you once again not trust me with the one you love, with the one I love even more?”  Quietness came over me at that moment and whether or not anyone else believes it, I know, God was speaking to my heart.  Yes, as a baby my Lady and I dedicated him to the Lord saying we would do all in our power to raise him in the understanding that God was there to love him even more than we could.  Yes, at a young age while talking to his mother about God, she led him to salvation in Christ, something she did with all three of our children and she sees as one of the greatest rewards of motherhood.  Now there was another voice, “Either you believe in your God that He loves you or it’s nothing more than empty words, what’s it gonna be?”

Chuck Swindoll says this; “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.”  But I trust in you Oh Lord, I say, you are my God.  Psalm 31:14

My prayer was a short and simple one, “God, I’m scared.  I’m scared because I don’t want to lose my son.  But I know, no matter what happens, he belongs to you and I will trust in you no matter what, amen.”

I don’t think anything can tear the heart out of you like seeing your child laying motionless on a gurney covered in dirt, wounds and blood.  But then there’s also nothing that can drive you to your knees and want to scream out “thank you God!” like the sound of that child saying to you then, “Dad, I’m alright.”

The true meaning of “faith” came home to roost that night, not just in the fact that my son’s life was spared, but also that if it wasn’t he would still be okay, better than okay, he would be with the Lord waiting to see mom and me again, in celebration of life eternal.

As for the boy whose earthly life was cut short, well talk to his mother.  There’s still some pain there of course, we’re only human.  But she’ll be the first to say she will see her son again someday, because “She Knows” he is with the Lord.

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.”  Corrie Ten Boom

Some form of tragedy will strike every man, woman and child sometime in life.  The question then becomes where you find rest, where do you find comfort.  Call me crazy, a fanatic or whatever, I’ve learned that for me there’s only one place I can go for that rest and comfort, only one place I can go for continued strength to face each day.

Psalm 103:17 – But from everlasting to everlasting the LORD’s love is with those who fear him and his righteousness with their children’s children.

Fellow Travelers of the Rock Road, I don’t always make a plea such as this; but if you have never trusted Christ as your Savior there’s no better time that now.  God loves you so much but He will not force His will, His gift upon you, the Choice is yours.  Revelation 3:20.

Thanks to all who took the time to read this, I’m sure for some it wasn’t easy to read these last two stories, no more than it was for me to write them.  But as always I’m not hear just to tell you a story, I do this because I believe God wants me to share these moments from my life so that they may possibly be a help to another who just may be going through the same thing and needing something more than they already have.

Who knows, maybe next week I may tell you how I chased this same child down the street when he was little because he made a can of pop explode all over me.

Never a dull moment, but I wouldn’t have it any other way!!!

Blessings to you and your loved ones!!

My Lady and I just returned from Florida, kind of taking a short break from the hard winter we’re getting here in the Midwest.  It’s always nice going to new places, seeing new things, but especially my favorite is meeting new people. You see no matter who you are or what you do there’s something that sets you apart from everyone else on the globe, there’s that one thing, be it large or small, that makes you special.  As a writer and an inquisitive, I always enjoy learning what it is that makes you who you are, makes you unique from others. On one of those trips in recent years, I met an individual who fit that bill to the tee.

We had just come from seeing an attraction in a small town nestled in the mountains of North Carolina and were now in a coffee shop getting something hot to drink. I just ordered a latte when a voice next to me piped in, “You can drink those sweet tasting things, huh? Not me, I gotta have my coffee, straight up and hot, only way I can drink it.” The voice belonged to a short elderly man who I could tell had some muscle in his day, but now had to use a walker to get around. “Gunny, you’re always trying to scare off my customers,” the gal behind the counter piped in with a smile on her face which told me they knew each other well. “Gunny huh, that means you were a gunnery sergeant in the Marines, right?” I asked. “Yep,” He answered, “Went in during the last of the Korean War and got out in ‘69 after spending two tours in Nam.” Because of family I have that served in the military and saw combat, I have the greatest respect for men and women like Gunny.

Now I could have stood and talked to this man for hours listening to I’m sure some quite remarkable tales of bravery and courage under the most adverse conditions, but there was something else about him that caught my eye and attention. We exchanged a few more words and then he walked off, leaning heavily on the walker to an area where there were several benches along a breezeway with about half dozen other men that he joined.  After a few minutes I walked over to where these men were seated, I wanted to give Gunny a small gift that I hand out to a lot of folks I meet and have a chance to learn something about. He accepted my gift graciously and then introduced me to his friends; they were all ex-military men who fought in wars ranging from Viet Nam all the way back to WW2 for one of them. “We meet here everyday at this spot, just to hang out and tell a few old war stories,” Gunney told me a slight chuckle. Another sitting there spoke up, “You mean which of us can tell the load of bull*&#, don’t ya?” That brought a good round of laughs from everyone. In the short time I spent with these Vets from wars gone by the more I learned that this was something special they had. An outsider like me could spend a few minutes jawing with them, but I wasn’t welcome to join them. That’s not to say they were rude or anything, but rather they were protective of what they had, what they shared. There was a television series a while back called “Band of Brothers” based on a unit of soldiers that served together and the relationships that they built during hostile times. These men sitting here were not like that, they had not served together, and they hadn’t even all fought in the same war, but somehow they found each other and found this place to call theirs, and in that they found strength, camaraderie, and I got the feeling most of all, security. Another person told me they were there everyday, sitting on their benches, sometimes not even talking for long periods, doing nothing more than being together. I walked away thinking this was no television show, no band of brothers, this was family–Awesome!!

As a musician I have something similar with others who took up this trade, especially that gang from the 70s. We speak the same language, share the same experiences and know each other’s heart for what we loved to do, make music. These few aging warriors I met on that Sunday afternoon shared something even more valuable; they were proud to say I served my country and would do it again in a New York minute. It’s this writer’s opinion that they drew life from that conviction and from each other. Okay, here’s the place I can generally get myself in trouble with someone for what I’m about to say next. So since I know, what the heck and here we go!

A.W. Tozer once said “One hundred religious persons knit into a unity by careful organizations do not constitute a church any more than eleven dead men make a football team. The first requisite is life, always.”

For the ones of us who call ourselves Christians, we could take a lesson from Gunny and his companions about showing the world that together we have something special, something that has “Life!” Something that others should look at more often and say, ‘I wish I had a connection to others like that, a connection to ones who share the same ups and downs in life as I do and are there for me, no matter what.’ In all fairness, sure, there are ones who do well in bringing that message; but what would the world look like if we all did it? Not only showed we had something incredibly special in Christ Jesus, but that our group, our family, the family of God was open to any and all. I know to some this sounds a little over the top, a little radical, but you see, I can’t help it; I’ve had a Teacher and Book that I actually got these “radical” ideas from.

John 1:12 – But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.

Galatians 6:10 – So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith.

1 Corinthians 12:26 – If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.

Nuff said!

Thanks, Gunny and thanks to your family of fellow freedom fighters, whether you realize it or not, you taught me a ton that Sunday afternoon, quite possibly one of the best sermons I’d heard, and seen in long time. Awesome!!!

I remember the place like it was yesterday; one large room that had actually been a sunroom when 1^st built.  Now with a drop ceiling, indoor/outdoor carpet, and cheap paneling put up to close it in, it was now our combination kitchen, dining and living room.  A small hallway led to our bath that was only big enough for one person at a time and that barely!  On the other side of the wall from the living quarters was the bedroom, which once had been a garage.  The place came furnished in Early American Garage Sale, the kitchen cabinets were hung by someone snapping a chalk line, nailing up 2x4s and hammering the backs of the cabinets to the wall. I guess the most memorable point was how cold it was in the winter, probably because in several places you could see through the wall to the outside; other than all that it made the perfect young married couple college abode.  More than one time while living there the thought came, ‘What in the world had I gotten us into?’

Living and growing up in our hometown of Fremont, Ohio, my Lady and I had no thoughts or intentions of leaving there and why should we?  Most of our friends and family were there; we had promising jobs and were one of the few newlywed couples to start life with a house instead of an apartment.  There’s also a well respected college and trade school located there which offered training in some great fields of occupation.  And besides that I had recently been approached to be the drummer of the hottest band in Toledo which was kind of a dream come true for this wanna-be rock and roll star!!

So why leave all that behind and start anew in a place where we hardly knew a soul, had to watch every dime we spent and had only each other to rely on?  Well, I felt God had spoken to my heart that this is where he wanted us to be, me studying at a Christian College while Cathy worked full time at a bank to keep the bills paid.  Oh yeah, and no more than 5 years and we were out of here. WRONG!!  Living in that converted screen room and garage that nearly froze us to death that 1^st winter should have been seen as an omen that I had made a big mistake, and the next 3 years didn’t get any better. School was a disaster and money got so tight we found ourselves for a time on food stamps and doing anything we could to survive, including selling my guitars and most of my drumset.  Finally leaving school, I took a job that I completely hated and found myself often wondering how everything got so wrong that I had felt was so right in the beginning.

Did I misunderstand God’s plan?  Were we not supposed to leave our childhood home and come to Indiana?  Well, the easy answer would be yes, it was a boneheaded thing to leave and give up the security we had once known.  But still, there was something in me that said this wasn’t a mistake, this is where God wants us to be.  As time went on I learned that to be true.

You see back home Cathy and I had two opposing forces that worked against any chances of a happy marriage.  The first and strongest was my friends and associations I had in the music world; that influence was a negative on trying to have a good relationship with my Lady.  The more I held on to those relationships the more it worked as a wedge between her and me.  I am totally convinced that had we stayed, our marriage wouldn’t have lasted long, which would have meant losing out on spending my life with the greatest person God could have paired me with, and also never knowing people who have blessed my life the most, my children and grandchildren.  The other force was Cathy’s family.  Now I know that sounds rather harsh like I didn’t like her family, but that not the case; they were wonderful people and I loved them dearly.  But no disrespect intended; there was this pressure for us to live our lives a certain way that was being dictated to us.  I realize they had the best intentions, like all parents, but had Cathy and I not gotten away from everyone and learned to depend, listen and grow together our chances would have been just as detrimental as the control my friends had on me.

It was a slow process for the two of us with many trials and setbacks over those early years, but time and God came to prove to us we were where we should be, doing what our Lord intended for us.  The opportunities for doing many things we never gave thought to have been tremendous in growing together, and in the Lord who had I not listened to His voice years ago we would have never experienced all the blessings that have come our way which out weigh the bad times tremendously.

J.I. Packer in his book Knowing God says this;

“Wait on the Lord” is a constant refrain in the Psalms, and it is a necessary word, for God often keeps us waiting.  He is not in such a hurry as we are, and it is not his way to give more light on the future than we need for action in the present, or to guide us more than one step at a time.  When in doubt, do nothing, but continue to wait on God.  When action is needed, light will come.”

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3: 5,6.

One of my favorite places to be is in my basement studio by myself.  In some ways it reminds me of that little apartment Cathy and I started in when we moved to Indiana.  It’s kind of roughed in here and there, but it has a personality all its own.  It’s a reminder of a time that I felt I had made a mistake in knowing God’s will for my life, when all it was, was just the beginning of Him saying, “Wait on me, I have a better plan than you realize.” I got no complaints!

By the way, I did finally get that degree I came out here for but not at the college I 1^st attended.  Boiler Up!!!

Blessings to you Friends and Family!!!

Some years back I was reading my hometown newspaper on line (one of the things I like about technology) when I came across the obituary of a gal, we’ll call Maggie, I knew back in my school days.  The moment I read her name two things occurred; first, I could see her as if she was in the room with me, and second I got the vision of a boy she wanted to give her affections to that we’ll call, hmm, what will we call him? Okay, I know, let’s just give a nickname; how bout “Jerk?!!”  Might as well call it as it was so you can get a good picture of this guy; but let’s get back to Maggie for now.

I said I could mentally see Maggie the moment my eyes fell on her name.  It wasn’t because of any striking beauty; to the contrary, truth was she wasn’t much of a looker. Tall, super skinny, knobby kneed, face full of zits and two of the biggest buckteeth you’d ever seen. Besides these physical traits old Mag had a habit of wearing makeup way to heavy giving her a slight clown-like appearance.  But hey, you overlook all that and you had yourself a really sweet girl there, intelligent, great personality, caring, compassionate to others with an easy smile bucktooth and all.  Only problem was, as all too often, people, boys in particular, didn’t get past the physical form to discover the positive traits. She could be the brunt of many jokes both behind her back and even to her face by a few of the ignorant types.

Getting back to my man “Jerk,” well he was okay to a certain level.  His looks were nothing that would get him a starring role in a Hollywood movie, kinda of average but most would say he was a pretty nice guy to get along with.  (I know that doesn’t seem the type of person that should be named Jerk, but stay with me.)  As a matter of fact he and Maggie shared a little of the same fate in his grade school days with kids at times making fun of him also, so you would think he could sympathize with her, but alas, it was not to be.  He did at times speak to Maggie when she spoke to him, but only if no one else was around.  Had he been caught spending any time associating with her, he knew the ribbing would be merciless.  Actually Jerk admitted years latter that he kind of liked her; something about her was special, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that or explore those  feelings more closely.  What made it harder is he knew she had a crush on him and would occasionally send him notes.  He’d always read them, but never respond and went to great lengths to avoid her.  The low point came when Jerk was at a teen function where Maggie was.  She came up to say hello to him just when one of his buddies made a rude remark to Mag causing everyone to laugh at her, including good old Jerk.  He remembered seeing the combination of hurt and anger as her eyes began to fill with tears, and she turned to walk away.  Now our man Jerk did have a heart, he knew it was wrong to treat her or anyone like that.  But he just couldn’t risk sending the wrong message; after all, she just wasn’t his type.  He wouldn’t have to worry a whole lot about it; Maggie didn’t speak to him again the rest of their school days. Even when he spoke first she would just keep her head down and walk away.  “Oh well, it’s for the best,” he thought.  Still, he’d get these feelings that there was something more to Maggie that was special; too bad she didn’t have the looks to go with it, right?

It was somewhere during Jerk’s senior year that he visited a daycare center with his girlfriend who applying for a job there.  Who should be already working there?  Dear sweet Maggie.  She didn’t see him as he stayed at a distance, but he watched her carefully playing with the little tykes.  She’d have three or four crawling all over her as she tickled them and they cried out in delightful laughter.  One fell and began to cry and Maggie was right there, holding, speaking softly and wearing a radiant smile until the hurt had passed. As he Jerk stood there the thought came to him, “Maggie’s gotten prettier, but she still looks the same–weird!”  Ten years latter their paths would cross again and it was apparent Maggie had forgiven Jerk by the way she now talked to him friendly, as he did her.  She was married with two kids and couldn’t be happier; even though her husband had contracted a debilitating disease where he could no longer work.  She supported them all with her job and a sideline of cleaning houses on the weekend.  I learned also she was a volunteer one day a week helping people with disabilities while at the same time working on a degree from the local college and making time for her children.  “Maggie, you’re just as awesome and beautiful as you were in school,” Jerk blurted out.  She didn’t answer, just said it was nice to see him and walked on.  “Why didn’t I see that before,” he thought after she left.  Then it was, “Oh yeah, you know why you arrogant idiot!”

I believe all of us at some time have been a Maggie the hidden beauty, or Jerk the ugly blind man.  I say hidden beauty because due to the exterior, the world does not exalt the glowing attractiveness that comes from the inside and it is quite often over looked.  I say ugly blind man because there are ones who don’t look far enough to see just how beautiful someone really is, how God has placed a heart of gold in an individual that makes them stunning beyond compare.  I know this individual all too well, who looked foremost on the outer beauty, not giving thought or credit that there was more to someone than looks; for you see, my friend Jerk, is yours truly.

As the scripture says in 1 Samuel 16:7, “People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”  God knows who we are and what makes us beautiful, what makes us special, each and everyone of us.  And as my dear old mama uses to say “God don’t make junk!”  There many Maggies out there, more beautiful inside who are just as attractive as any model that struts her outer beauty on the runway.  Never be ashamed of who you are, for you are special, made special as God says you are.  Psalm 139:14 reads “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”  Never Never Never let anyone convince you different!

As for you Jerks (Okay, Johns), the same goes for you as it does Maggie.  Knowing that, shouldn’t that be all the reason you need to look closely at the way others are made also, and quite possibly discover a beauty others might miss; just sayin!!

When I read the obit for Maggie, which was rather long, I read testimonies of how she touched and blessed many, many people with her life of beauty and love.  Awesome!

Makes it nicer to be a Traveler of the Rock Road when you can do it with beautiful people, don’t you think?  I thought so!!

Back in 1970 a motion picture came out based on the true story of a young couple’s life, love and tragic ending.  The movie was Love Story and it took the country by storm, in every theater where it was playing you would have been hard pressed to find a dry eye in the house at the conclusion of the film.  I confess I would have to be counted as one of the weepy eyes who got caught up in the drama and sadness of the story.  To go a step further, my then girlfriend ended up seeing it 3 times.  (We worked at a drive-in so it made it easy to see it several times.)  We became so absorbed in the tale, I think we could have quoted almost every line, especially the most famous 8 word passage in the whole show; “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”  Beautiful sentiment, huh? DON’T,   YOU,  BELIEVE IT!!!!!!!!  In our youthful innocence, we took those words to be prophetic as if sent by God himself; in truth they were more like a visit from the angel of death every time either of us uttered them.  But we began a “futile” attempt to live out our relationship in a way that that neither of us would ever have regrets for our words or actions to the other.  I use the “futile” because trying to be successful at such an endeavor would be like trying to fix the leak in the Titanic with silly putty!!!  Back in the day I was somewhat of a typical teenage boy, a whole lot of attitude and little tact on the words that came out of my mouth.  (Hmm, that sounds a little like me at times today.  Never mind, let’s not go there!)

But because of that immature attitude accompanied by an acidic tongue, attempts to live that perfect couple’s relationship would crash into the wall.  At moments like that tears would flow from my girlfriend’s eyes and the reality of my arrogance and ignorance would hit me in the face like a bucket of ice water.  Not wanting to see this, I would say “I’m sorry.”  Moist eyes and quivering lip would respond, “But love means never having to say you’re sorry.”  ARGHHH!!!!!  Talk about a Catch 22 situation–I do something wrong to a person I care for and then have no way of making it right!  The roles Ryan O’Neal and Ali MacGraw portrayed on the big screen made me fall in love with them, but the anguish I suffered every time I spoke the “S” word made me want to take their heads and knock them together saying, “What the heck were you guys thinking making such a stupid movie anyway!”

I’m going to get to my main point early today because it’s a very important topic (plus I need all the practice I can get writing shorter.)

This really was a good movie for the times and had many good points relating to love between a couple, except in this man’s opinion it missed the mark on the main issue; love “DOES” mean saying you’re sorry!  I have met people in my life that adhere to the philosophy of not saying sorry for a number of different reasons: “People should understand that’s just the way I am.”  “People who have hurt me never said they’re sorry so why should I?”  Here’s one that’s been made popular from a TV show: “Saying you’re sorry is a sign a weakness.”  I’ll never be accused of being the sharpest knife in the drawer, but one thing I have learned is forgiveness, be it asking for or accepting is one of the strongest and meaningful things a person will ever do.  You see ‘sorry’ should not be looked at as just a word to get past rough road with someone; it should be seen and treated as an action that says I was wrong and I need to make it right.

In our early days together, Cathy and I had some real humdinger fights.  We were both stubborn, neither willing to give in and that in itself became the catalyst of what could have become another failed marriage for the times; but we both knew we had something special that was bigger than our separate egos, something worth treasuring and protecting.  We both had to learn (and I confess, mostly me) that when a wrong is committed, healing does not fully occur without forgiveness, either asked for, given or both.  19^th Century George Macdonald said it this way, “Forgiveness is the giving, and so the receiving, of life.”  Over the years of my life, I have found myself sitting between two people who started out madly in love with each other, only to end up facing the destruction of their relationship because the words “I’m sorry” were more than one or the other could say.  It saddens me to say that a few of the hardest ones to get through to on the importance of asking for forgiveness have been Christian couples.  One “interesting” individual wanted to argue that it didn’t matter if ever told his wife he’s sorry so long as she does what the Bible says and submit to him.  (Those are the ones that send me to the nearest wall to beat my head against it!)  Knowing where he got that, I asked, “Well how well do you submit to her?”  “What?  I’m not supposed to submit to her!”  Taking him farther down to the book and chapter where he developed his one-sided attitude we read the words, “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ” Ephesians 5:21.  It’s all part of those words “Two becoming One,” Friends and Family; if you have taken those words as truth in your marriage then whenever you hurt your loved one, you are inflicting the same injury on yourself.  Literally scores of couples I have heard say felt a huge weight was lifted from both of them when repentance and forgiveness have occurred. Often when my Lady and I have had a falling out, my work day stays in ruin until I pick up the phone, call her to say those words that mean Love, “I’m sorry.”  Then to know restoration has occurred with her response, “I forgive you.”  Here’s a good practice to get into with your husband or wife, pray together.  One statistic I’ve quoted before is that 50% of all marriages end in divorce.  But with couple committed to praying together on a regular basis (and that includes praying out loud for each other), that stat drops to below 1%.  Hey, isn’t I worth a shot; just sayin.

My former girlfriend and I made a lot of mistakes and ended up going separate ways way back when, but I think it’s safe to say we learned love means a whole lot more than what we realized.  We must have learned something; we’ve both been married to our chosen life mates for 40 years now, pretty awesome huh?!!

Okay, failed again to write a short story, actually I have a whole lot more to say on this subject but I’ll save that for another time.  

One final thought, since becoming Christian I’ve learned that repentance and forgiveness is not only healing, it’s a giver of life;

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and “will forgive” us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9  In other words Life everlasting.

We as Travelers of the Rock Road must give consideration to the question how will we journey this life trail, alone with a heavy load never to set down because of the problems we discussed today, or with others willing to bare the load with you knowing the true two-part meaning of love.

“Love means saying I’m sorry, and Love means I forgive you.”

Nuff said, thanks for reading!!