Traveling the Rock Road

My Lady and I started our lives together like the majority of you do and where we find ourselves today, in other words empty–nesters, no children.  But unlike most of you we began to wonder if that’s where we would live out days.  After marrying we moved to Indiana for me to attend college and then a couple of years passed and we were ready to start a family, only problem was it wasn’t happening.  We tried and even saw doctors to find if there was a problem with either of us, still no children.  A couple of years went by and we came to believe that we weren’t meant to have kids naturally so perhaps God was leading us to adopt.  This seemed like a viable solution to the problem and besides Cathy had been adopted herself so why not for us.

One of the first agencies we went with was a total disaster and we almost gave up entirely (I wrote about this on an earlier Rock Road Story).  Then someone suggested we go with the state agency and even possibly adopt children with disabilities. It wasn’t something we had thought of at that point in life, but the idea seemed to appeal to the both of us.  We applied with the state and quickly were able to see many available children in what some had nicknamed “The Children Catalog.”  Now friends, I don’t care who you are, take a look in this book which I imagine is the same in every state in the union and if it doesn’t tug at your heart strings, check your pulse, because something is wrong!  This volume of adoptable children was every bit as thick as a Sears catalog.  There was everything from babies to teenagers, from just a single child to complete families with as many as six youngsters.  They were of every race with the majority of them having some form of infirmity.  Just turning each page and looking deeply at one of the angelic faces brought tears to our eyes as you can imagine.

We began with an interest in a little girl named Melissa, a little cutie about 5 years old who was classified as mildly retarded.  She had been in a group home most of her life and the agency was anxious to get her into a good home.  Unfortunately, we were so early in the process of getting approved as adoptive parents that she was placed with another family.  I’ve never forgotten, Melissa.  Then our eyes fell on David, a dark haired little guy, probably mixed race, of about three years old who had a sever hearing loss.  In the picture they couldn’t get him to smile.  I had a feeling this was the one meant for us, the one we could make happy and bring that same feeling of happiness to us.  But it wasn’t to be, he was adopted before we could get approved also.  I’ve never forgotten, David.

The last one was Michael, a blondie about the same age as David; he had only two fingers on each hand.  His picture shouted out to us because of the big, even laughing smile he had spread across his face; I think we had found the one meant for us.

But then, one morning, Cathy arose not feeling well, and the feeling continued which came to mean only one thing, after six years the Millers were starting their family.  When we told the agency Cathy was pregnant, we were moved to the bottom of the list to make room for someone else who didn’t have children.  We were of course ecstatic with finally the opportunity to have a child of our own; but still, I’ve never forgotten, Michael.

Everyone who knows us realizes we have gone on to have three wonderful kids who have blessed us beyond anything we could ever have imagined, then with the addition of grandchildren to our lives, we have been living a dream that only God could have created for us.  Add into the factor the many kids that have come through our home at different times in life that still refer to us as mom and dad.  Now that we have returned to the empty-nest and looking back at the numbers of complaints I have from the whole episode, it totals nada!!!  I say it often and I’ll continue to say it, “I Am a Blessed Man!”

Okay, so what’s my point, well truthfully, I’m not sure.  Sometimes a story comes to me that I just start writing and see what God intends to do with it.  This time I believe perhaps there are several lessons here that the Lord might have given me.  So let’s take a look.

The first one that jumps out of course would be patience, waiting on God’s timetable and not creating our own; never seen an instance where ours was better than His anyway.

Check out Isaiah 40:43.

Next, I think we can look at opportunities that God puts in our path to see a hurting world sometimes in places where we never knew existed like orphans nearby us that desperately need someone to love them, and to love back.  Matthew 25:35-40 is a good one to look at.

The last one I can think of is this, it is my belief there are no accidents with who God puts in your path, there’s a reason.  In the case of three little tykes I never got to see personally, only on the pages of book; I feel perhaps they were placed in my path to pray for occasionally.  Never saw them and probably never will, but they’re a part of me so I pray for them.  You ask how can I still remember them after all these years?  Pretty easy actually, you see my kids help me remember the first three, my Jamie Melissa, my Jeremy David, and my Justin Michael.  Pretty cool huh?!!

As each of us make our way “Traveling the Rock Road,” let’s not take anything, any moment or any person for granted that we meet along the way; there’s a reason they’re there, the decision then becomes what do you choose to do with it.

I read one person who put it this way; “Everything happens for a reason.  I may not know why or how, but God does & that is all that matters!”  I’ve got no argument!!

Thanks for reading Friends and Family!!

The year was 1968 and there was a whole lot going on in the world. The Vietnam War was in full swing, the civil rights movement had taken to the streets in every major city in America, the Apollo Space Program was born, a man who had run for political seats several times in the past, only to lose each race, was elected president. Years later during his 2^nd term he would be forced to leave office early in total disgrace. But I feel it goes without saying that the biggest events of that year was the assassinations of two of our beloved leaders, Martin Luther King and Robert F. Kennedy; and the majority of country mourned as one from these terrible tragedies. Many history making events that’s for sure; but for a couple of young teenage boys in small-town Ohio it was a time of fun, mischief, and most of all, dreaming.

Take any early Fall Friday night and most of my classmates could be found at the high-school football game and then off to the after-game dance at the Y. But for me and my man Dave it was getting his older cousin to buy us a 6-pack of 3.2 PBR (For you young readers that was beer you could purchase at 18 in Ohio back then) then down to the river side with our acquired spirits, find a dark place to sit, look across the river into town, and just drink and talk. (Also try to keep from heaving from not being use to alcohol; never worked!) As we sat there in the night, our conversations would touch many subjects, school, music, girls, of course; but the heart of all we discussed would always be on our dreams, where we saw ourselves in the future and what we planned to do with the rest of our lives. For me the dream was always the same, to make music until my dying days. I just knew someday my name would be up there with the most famous musicians of all times and it would be there that I would leave my mark on history and mankind. My buddy Dave wanted to make it in music also, but he had many more dreams and plans, far more diverse than I could even comprehend at times, and all those dreams and plans, came from books. I have yet to ever find another person who could pick up some hardback manuscript like David and become completely immersed in the storyline. As we sat in the dark watching black water roll toward Lake Erie, he would tell me everything about the characters and theme of what he was reading at that time, not leaving out even the slightest detail. While he narrated all he read recently, I would look across the river and even imagine some of the people and events as he regaled on. I could see a man dressed in total black, riding a just as black motorcycle across the desert. I could hear the whistle blow on a warship coming home after a fierce battle at sea and watching sailors come ashore to the waiting arms of loved ones. Wherever his newest story took Dave, I was privileged to go along as he recounted everything with enthusiasm in his voice and a fire in his heart that said, “We’ll do that someday!” The beer would be gone and we’d head off to the after-game dance to act drunker than we really were to impress the girls (Ha Ha!), but we’d looked once more into the lights of our town across the waters, and we dreamed, believing one day that would be our reality.

Hard to believe and even say for that matter, but that moment in time was 46 years ago now. David and I went different directions both leaving our hometown, both perusing our dreams on separate courses. For my dear friend, well the dreams he spoke of never materialized as he had hoped and there were even a few setbacks I don’t feel the need to go into. But because of those dreams, because of his mind’s ability to learn and understand so thoroughly, he realized a gift he was strongest at, working and creating with his hands in a field that was rewarding to him for a time. And when he could no longer do the trade it was shown to others that he was well equipped to teach what he knew to young minds. Times have been tough occasionally, but with the love of his life that God has paired him with, he continues on, the dreamer, the fighter, the achiever.

As for the Gray One here, well I did chase my dream and actually caught it for a brief moment, just long enough to realize it was a life that I was not suited for as well as I thought and hoped. The making of music for many was as great as I had hoped, but the rest of what came into my life brought nothing but depression, and that was a price heavier than I chose to pay. I’ve continued to make music over the years but on a smaller venue and mostly in the arena of praise music to the Lord, something that has brought me more joy than I ever imagined. As for the rest of the story of this man’s life, well I learned a trade that I truly enjoy, one that would have my past science teachers from school days scratching their heads and saying, “Are we sure we’re talking about the same Miller?!!”

So to sum this all up, should we say that David and I were wrong to waste so much time being dreamers? Certainly not, I believe that dreams are truly a gift of God. For without the dreamers where would we be today in every field known to man? Robert Schuller is quoted as saying, “The only place where your dream becomes impossible is in your own thinking.” There’s a good reason God gave dreamers to the world and perhaps you’re one of them. Just a thought.

As always I have to wrap everything I write on around my belief in Christ and His goals for me, not mine. In that process I came to learn that just because my dreams didn’t come true, didn’t mean I was of no importance to others, myself and especially God.

In Jeremiah 29:11 we read, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

If the Creator of the universe loves me enough to have a plan for my life, who am I to argue His ways for me aren’t as good as my ways, my dreams?

On early Fall nights back in 1968, I stared across a river peering into my hometown and dreaming of the future. Forty six years later I find myself still dreaming as I Travel the Rock Road. Now I look up into the night sky and think about Home, my eternal Home; and I dream about what that will be like some day. The songwriter sums it up for me like this;

I can only imagine

What it will be like

When I walk

By your side

I can only imagine

What my eyes will see

When your face

Is before me

I can only imagine

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel

Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still

Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall

Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all

I can only imagine

Until then, we dream on Brothers and Sisters, we dream on.

Ron sat across the table from me looking into his coffee cup more than drinking from it. He was tired, even more, emotionally exhausted and just wanted someone to talk to or perhaps sit with him for a while.  Ron had been in the counseling ministry for over 20 years and had seen, heard and dealt with many problems people brought to him, but the one he was now facing brought this big scraping figure of a man to tears.  His heart was breaking after visiting an individual we both knew, due to the words that this person said to him.  Our friend had been diagnosed with a fast spreading form of cancer just a few months prior and now was days from succumbing to this deadly disease.  Ron visited him several times sharing Bible passages and telling of healing for the soul, pleading for him to accept the gift of eternal life offered through Jesus Christ.  And each time our friend would listen as he laid there in his bed laboring for breath to say the same words over and over again, “I’m sorry Ron, I just can’t do that.”  What was the reason for his rejection?   Was it unbelief in what Ron told him or that he didn’t need healing and Heaven?  No, he acknowledged he believed every word, but he was also thoroughly convinced that because of wrongs he had committed in his life, he was beyond forgiveness–even from God.  Okay, that’s case study One.

Case Two is another friend of mine, someone I’ve know since moving to Indiana back in ‘74. Contrary to Case One (Will call him Merle), who has known Christ as his personal Savior for a good portion of his adult life.  Sounds like someone who should possess many positive attributes, right?  “Bzzzz!”  Sorry, wrong answer.  In all the years I’ve known Merle, he’s spent most of his time being the poster boy for the Gloomy Gus Society!  He tries to keep it hidden, but the majority of the time he is emotionally down, distraught and troubled.  So what’s got Merle beaten down?  Same as the first guy, unforgiveness of himself for wrongs committed earlier in life.  Now, many would say here’s an individual who shouldn’t be burdened with such a load of guilt, after all he has the promise of forgiveness of all sins when he came to Christ, right?  Come on Merle, ya got “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” and “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” You’re good; God has taken care of your problem, forever!  Isn’t that enough?  Well, unfortunately for some, even in Christ, the answer is a resounding no.

Okay, I don’t want to labor this subject, so let’s get to finding the answer to forgiving yourself.  Like both of my friends, I have spots in my life that I wish never occurred, moments that I’m not proud of, that if there was a way to go back in time and correct them I certainly would; but I can’t.  I tried several ways to get past my demons, but they would always show up again.  It wasn’t until I learned a valuable lesson about God that I was able to get past my “dark ages.”  And the lesson went like this;

Never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, (Gotta take a break, fingers are getting worn out hitting the same keys. Okay I’m back!) never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, never, never never, never, never, “NEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” let anybody or anything convince you that God can’t handle your bad luggage and love you just the same.  He doesn’t mince words, puts it right out there for all to understand how He feels for each of us.  

Romans 8: 38-39  “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.”  That’s where my hope lies, when I came to Christ and where I am in Him today. Yes, those old memories occasionally come crashing back on me, but they don’t stay because I refuse to be controlled by them.  I have a God who loves me so much He can cover those ills, those sins.  Sure there are scars left that I regret, but doesn’t change God and how He sees me, sees you and His offer of forgiveness no matter what you’ve done.  That goes out to ones who relate to either Case One or Case Two; healing is for all who will accept, the choice is yours.

Still I confess, I’ve stayed bothered by my friend Merle and others like him who call themselves Christians, but live like Sad Sacks no matter how much they know about God’s grace and mercy.  I have quite a few preacher types who allow this old gray one to call them friend and will let me pose questions to them, so I asked them, “Why is it that some Christians can’t find forgiveness for themselves?”  The answer was the same with each, “Primarily because they don’t want it, they choose to hang on to it because they choose to live with the pain.  It’s not that God can’t fix it, it’s like saying, ‘God, I really don’t want you to fix it.’”  Wow, that seems a little harsh, but the cold truth is that’s exactly how it is with many in this situation.  As a Christian, you’ve been given something special, something so amazing and wonderful that it should envelop your entire being. After all if we have the Gift that was given freely and eternally to us, shouldn’t we be living our lives before the world in such a way that others will see and perhaps want the same for themselves; give it some thought, okay?

I’m going to close with this, we all in life “Travel the Rock Road” and it’s not always an easy or friendly path to take.  Adding to the burden of the road by lugging with you unforgiveness, be it for others or yourself will the make the travel harder.  In this short moment we call life, you don’t need that, no one does.  Having a Traveling Companion has made all the difference for this man.  He helps carry the load, even if the load is me personally.  Throw down that unforgiveness my friend, it’s not worth carrying anymore, not when you have something better offered to you; Grace, Mercy Forgiveness.

Yeah, I think I can live with that!!

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!!!