Traveling the Rock Road

I’ve spoken in the past about being raised by a single mom and the problems and obstacles both of us had to overcome. It’s never been easy for any unwed mother, but back in the 50s a woman could be stereotyped and black-marked by society harshly and often ostracized by their own family. Fortunately for Ma and myself there were ones of our kinfolk that loved us enough to help as they could, and of course one type of help was to give advice. The thought was that if mom didn’t find someone to marry, the authorities would step in and take me away from her, so they encouraged her to find someone quick as possible. Enter Arlen, my just-for-a-moment, stepdad.

I don’t remember a lot about old Arlen, but I liked him. He was always nice to me and would take me lots of places while Ma was at work. My favorite was this old “restaurant” that smelled funny but where folks always seemed happy and music blared from the jukebox constantly. My favorite part was I could eat all the peanuts and drink as much ginger ale as I wanted. (I’m having a Canada Dry right now in his honor.) But at night when we returned to the apartment and Ma would get home from work, I’d be rushed to bed so they could have a little talk. A loud talk!! I couldn’t hear all that was said from my room as I laid still in the dark and stared at the light that shown under the door. The talk would go from loud angry words to fever pitch screaming, then breaking of things and at times Ma crying. In her haste to take the advice of some she married this seemingly kind, gentle and happy individual, only to find out later he suffered from substance abuse addition. In those moments a different man would appear; one that was angry, hateful and abusive. This Jekyll and Hyde lifestyle with Arlen went on for some time until one night Ma came in my room, wrapped me in the blanket from the bed and rushed us out of the apartment into a waiting taxicab that took us across town to my Great Aunt Pearl. I was taken to bed, but the next morning is one I’ll never forget. The two of them were sitting at the kitchen table and Ma had a large black and blue mark that encircled one of her eyes. The sight sent me instantly into hard crying, but Ma was there to pick me up, hold me close to her and say, “it’s going to be alright.” That was the last I would see of Stepdad Arlen for many years; Ma never married again and as time passed I had to wonder how this man who was so nice to me could be such a monster to my mother. I also pondered, was Ma so broken after that short time she could never trust another man again?

Rick Warren wrote; “God has a purpose behind every problem. He uses circumstances to develop our character. In fact, he depends more on circumstances to make us like Jesus than he depends on our reading the Bible.”

Ma was no Bible scholar, in fact she could barely read. But she knew the One she trusted would be there for her. Even though for a short moment in time her life was living hell, she recognized it didn’t have to be that way forever. Thus, she put a forth a life dedicated to caring for the one man/child she loved more than anyone, to teach him the right ways to live. She might not have used the most orthodox approach in raising me to honor my life by honoring God. Deuteronomy 31:6 “Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the Lord your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.”

Ma might have been happy to have a helpmate in her life, but the little woman from West Virginia, with little education and a sever hearing handicap was strong enough, with the help of her Lord and Savior to be content in her life role. She took great pride on how her son turned out. It was years before I realized what her faith and sacrifice did in shaping the direction for this “Traveler of the Rock Road,” and I feel like the luckiest man in the world to have a Ma like I did.

It was some ten years later I was riding my bike and as I crossed the bridge in my hometown I noticed this very old gent sitting against the outside wall of a local tavern. As I started to pass him you can imagine my surprise when he called out in a gravelly voice, “Johnny!” Breaking to a stop I looked back at him not having the foggiest who he was. “You don’t know me, do you?” I shook my no and then he asked, “How’s your mother?” Arlen. It had been ten years since my young eyes had seen him but he looked every bit thirty years older. He started to say something else, but I cut him off with, “She’s fine,” and I peddled for all I was worth to get away from him. At that moment even though he looked like he couldn’t get off the ground, I was scared of him and I hated him for what he did. In the fifty years since that day, I’ve thought of Arlen periodically, for I’ve seen all too many just like him. Substance abuse has clouded their minds where they don’t realize the damage they do to others as well as themselves. All I can say is God can help you bust out of that death trap if you’ll truly let Him. And if you’re not interested in what I or someone else can show you of the power of God in restoring a life, then for goodness sake get help somewhere before it’s too late. Friend, whether you want to believe this nor not, you’ve been made too special to do this to yourself. Okay I’m done.

See ya next time!

When asked how many years I’ve been playing music I always tell people over 50 years now. But I realized the other day that’s not exactly true. Since age 12 music has played an important role in defining who I am. But there came a time I packed up the drum kit and stored it away in a closet. Then except for a cheap beat around guitar, I got rid of everything I had and hardly played a note for 7 years. So why would a person who was passionate about something suddenly give it up? Well, several factors were involved.

No doubt the catalyst for my exodus from music first came in 1984 when a terrible accident took the life of my mentor and greatest friend, my Great Aunt Pearl. The tragedy of losing my beloved Pearly Mae so suddenly left me empty and suffering from depression for years. With my biggest fan and supporter gone, music didn’t mean to me what it had it prior.

At about the same time reality opened my eyes and thinking wide enough to realize I was never going to reach the pinnacle of success I had craved so dearly in the music industry. Sure, I’d had a few high moments and was privileged to work with or know some folks that were “living the dream” as I felt. But came to realize that that short point in my personal history was never going to be anything else but that–a brief moment, something to look back on, nothing more. To continue to chase an unreachable dream seemed fruitless and the desire to do any music was quenched.

This last reason came to me later in my musical pause but proved to be best reason for quitting. Music was my love, it was my passion, but even more, it was my obsession. An understanding emerged that I was putting music before everything. Perusing other interest or skills was never a thought. I loved my Lady and my children, but I began to see my neglect to them because of this passion for what truly was my first love. The final nail came when my eyes were opened that along with everything else, I had put my relationship to my Lord on the backburner. Music was my love and in a way my god.

The writer C.S. Lewis said, “God can’t give us peace and happiness apart from Himself because there is no such thing.” I did love my Lord, but when it came to my desire to make a name for myself in music I never counted Him in. I assumed that whatever my desire was He would bless it, even if I didn’t talk to Him about it first. I had no choice but to separate myself from this obsession if I was ever to be who God wanted me to be for my family, others, me, and Him.

But you know God wasn’t wanting me to stop playing music, He was wanting me to put things in proper perspective. I have a quote by Ezra Taft Benson that goes like this. “When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives. Our love of the Lord will govern the claims for our affection, the demands on our time, the interests we pursue, and the order of our priorities.”

Matthew 6:33 “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

It’s been years since the music died in this “Traveler of the Rock Road.” But God resurrected it with a new passion in the Gray One. I’ve never reached the heights that were once my dream, but it’s been humbling to think of all the places and people for whom Cathy and I have performed since that dark time. He didn’t give me a gift to waste; He bestowed it upon me for His Glory.

I’m going to end with a story written my man C.S. Lewis that you may or may not see goes with mine. Personally, I feel it does.

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

Romans 11:36 “For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.”

Hey, see ya next time.

If you could see into my basement studio, you’d find many items besides musical instruments. Pictures, paintings, statuettes, antiques and numerous collectables; most of which would not have any value or meaning to anyone except this man. Nearly every item brings back a memory from my early days and the people that made a difference in my life, some who still do. It’s quite an array of garage sale artifacts, as I call them, but at times just sitting down, staring at my treasures and remembering brings a type of warmth and comfort to the Gray One’s soul.

Recently my Lady and I did a small concert back in my adopted hometown of Fremont, Ohio. It was an incredibly hot day for an outdoor gig, but it was good to be back where most of my memories were created. It was also great to see friends that showed up to hear us perform. That was a joy in itself; seeing dear folks that represented different stages of my life there. A wonderful couple that I’ve known since childhood. Some of my fellow alumnus from the great class of 73! There were two precious gals there that attended the church where I came to know Christ; the Grace Brethren Chapel. A real special treat was seeing an old friend from my first job at the Fremont Drive-In, Sweet Lady Jane Orndorff! Numerous others were there that my feeble mind can’t remember at this moment. So great to see them all, but I have to say the happiest moment came when I laid eyes on someone that I haven’t really known well until recent years, but now so blessed to call her friend and Sister.

Wynn Shell is the daughter of a dear saint everyone loved and knew simply as Billy. She could light up a room with her very presence. Billy never met a stranger; the moment you met her she treated as if you had been friends for years and then never forgot who you were.

I met Billy just a few years after we settled in Ohio. My best friend and his family invited me to their church, St. John’s Lutheran there in Fremont. Ma had sent me to one church where I never felt comfortable, so I quit going all together until St. John’s. On the first day of attending Sunday School, my feelings of insecurity started to set in. The only person I knew was my friend and everyone else either ignored my attendance to the class or stared making me feel uncomfortable. I realized I looked a little different in what I wore and being raised in an Appalachian home gave me a different accent than the rest which usually brought laughter. So, I was nervous in this new setting just hopping it wouldn’t be too long before we got out of there. Then the teacher, a kindly woman with a broad smile walked over to where I sat and said, “So what’s your name, honey?” My eyeballs grew larger than saucers! This gal had a Southern accent similar to mine. As Ma had taught me to say when someone asked my name, I blurted out “John David Miller.” “Well John David, it’s a dandy pleasure to have you join us!” And a friendship began that lasted until the day the Lord called her home. Billy not only became a friend, but one of my mentors making sure I understood the love of Jesus and what the Bible was really saying, not just in teaching Sunday School to a group of rambunctious preteens but in every facet of her being. She was the first person I ever heard speak of a personal and everyday relationship with the Lord. As the years went on and I would only see her occasionally, Billy still showed an interest in what direction my life was going. During my most rebellious times she caught up, sat me down and talked. Not as a lecturer warning me to straighten up before it’s too late, but she spoke to me as a friend, someone who cared what I was doing with my life and letting me know God had His eye on me because He had a special plan for my future. Now knowing her heart, I’m sure Billy said that to many; but words can’t express how deeply that message took root in this man. I have been privileged to sit under the teaching of some of the best biblical scholars of our modern age and have read the writings of countless others from history in hopes of a better understanding on the One I call Savior. But when I envision those who have made the greatest impact on this man, you can be sure that the beautifully spirited “Traveler of the Rock Road” who always greeted me with “Well Hello, John David,” will always be counted as one of the best and dearest teachers’ in my life. She was the living example of Ephesians 4:2 “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.”

So, returning to the concert in the park a couple of weeks ago where I got to see her beautiful daughter and legacy, Wynn, was pure delight in itself. Then she said, “I have something for you that belonged to mom.” Following her to her car she opened the trunk, and there was the old crank telephone you see in the picture. Many would say to receive such a rare antique in great condition was valuable, and they would be right. But Wynn wasn’t giving me the phone as an heirloom, she was giving me a piece of her beloved mother. This was something I could see Billy taking great pride and love in, keeping it in an unspoiled condition, caring to ensure it stayed the way it was made to be only better, and loving to show this treasure off. I saw all that because that’s what Billy did in the lives of the people she touched and loved. And yes, the Gray One was near to tears.

As the writer Amy Carmichael said, “You can give without loving, but you cannot love without giving.”

Thank for the gift of love, Wynn and Billy.

Since I’ve moved it into my studio I’ve stopped often to study it, remembering one of my first mentors, and the gift of herself she gave to me long ago.

I’ve even pick up the receiver, placed it to my ear and allowed my imagination to hear four precious words spoken to me. “Well Hello, John David!”  Someday.

See ya next time.

Father’s Day is the one holiday I’ve never celebrated since I grew up without a dad, that is until I became a father myself. The man who did his part to bring me into the world chose not to be a part of mine or my mother’s life; I was what some would call, an accident. Occasionally that would bring me to bitterness, and particularly on Father’s Day. It was good to see all my friends celebrating with their dads, but it generally brought out in me the question, what would it have been like to have mine around. Later in life as I slowly learned of this mystery man and his ways, I was thankful our paths never crossed. I’m not saying he was a terrible individual, but our differences, ideologies, attitudes and beliefs were broadly apart. So, I came to conclude it was the best for me that he headed down the road. Ya did good, Howie. Still, there was the nagging question in me, is there anything in me I can attribute to good old dad? I’ve heard many say they got their looks, ways and skills from their father. I had nothing I could point to, not even a picture when he was young to see if there were any similarities in our features. I concluded there was nothing I got from the old man, except being left alone. But somewhere along way, God put a different view in my heart and mind.

If it hadn’t been for this man I would have never come into the world. I would have never known the ones that surrounded me with a love that made me feel special and never alone. I would have never met and married the most incredible gal God could have put in my life. I would have never spent all the years working with kids who got into trouble, many of them without dads also. I would have missed out on youth programs that I worked and even headed up. And mostly, I would have never known the joy of having my own children and grandchildren. There’s also others that refer to me as dad or grandpa. When I think of all the joy I could have never experienced, how could I not feel blessed that God chose this man to be my father. By the grace of my Heavenly Father I have gained more than I could ever thank him for.

Rick Warren said it like this; “Your birth was no mistake or mishap, and your life is no fluke of nature. Your parents may not have planned you, but God did. He was not at all surprised by your birth. In fact, he expected it. Long before you were conceived by your parents, you were conceived in the mind of God. It is not fate, nor chance, nor luck, nor coincidence that you are breathing at this very moment. You are alive because God wanted to create you!”

Jeremiah 1:5 “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart”

To all who may relate to the way my life started, remember. You have a Heavenly Father who is very proud of you!

And to all you earthly dads. A Very Blessed and Happy Father’s Day!

Oh yeah, and Howie, as I’ve said in the past, whether you know it or not, ya did good. Happy Father’s Day!!

See ya next time.

I mentioned in the past that my grade school years were not very joyful seeing that I had a learning disability, or to put in bluntly, I couldn’t read. Every year was a struggle but the worse was my 4^th grade year. All the subjects were tougher than the first three years of my educational trek and it didn’t help matters that I was convinced my teacher had been a prison guard or drill sergeant in her prior occupation.  Seemed she stayed on my case from September to June, but looking back I can’t spite her for it; that’s just the way it was done then.  Most educators were taught they had to be tough and this old gal was the personification of that technique. She threatened often with holding me back, so I did the best I could and prayed for a miracle. To this day I’m sure if it was a miracle or this female Sergeant Slaughter didn’t want to take the chance of getting stuck with me a 2^nd time.  To my amazement and utter joy when the final grade card was handed out she had promoted me to the 5^th grade. Hallelujah!! I was moving on and leaving “Rita the Rock” behind! Ma and my Great Aunt Pearl knew how worried I was and encouraged me every chance they could. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell the great news.

The final bell rang and I was out the school door like a shot. I ran as hard as I could, smiling all the way. Unfortunately, a couple of older kids (better known then and now as bullies) decided to celebrate the end of school by beating the pulp out of me. Oh the joys of youth! After these future upstanding citizens had finished getting their jollies roughing me up, I took off running again still anxious to get home with my news even though pain was rising from the beating I had just taken only to trip over something and down I went on the hard sidewalk. Now I was bleeding and crying from my injuries. Still I kept focused on getting home no matter what. Mom was gone so I called out to Aunt Pearl who I heard up on the 2^nd floor. Taking off like a rocket, I shot up the stairs, and as my luck would have it that day I slipped and fell creating a gash in my forehead. Hearing the clamor, Pearl came running and was horrified to see her nephew looking like he had been run over by a truck! After drying my tears, cleaning me up and patching the wounds she asked, “Johnny, what in the world happened to you?” I gave her a short version of the apocalypse I endured getting home, but all that was secondary to what I really wanted to say. Even though I looked like I had a few rounds with Mike Tyson, I mustered up my biggest grin, “Aunt Pearl, I passed. I’m going to the 5^th grade.”  She closed her eyes for a moment like she was about to cry. Reaching out, Pearl took me in her arms and softly said, “I am so proud of you.” At that moment the beating, the calamities and even the rough year I had at school seem to melt right away. I was feeling loved and hearing words that gave my body and soul worth, and that meant more than anything in the world.

During the years I spent being a Christian, I will never tell anyone that it has been a joyous and happy experience each and every day. I have had failures, feelings of hopelessness, setbacks and discouragement. There have been those moments I felt I couldn’t go another day with the burden with which life was weighing me down.  And there have been times I’ve felt alone, that there was no one that cared nor understood my situation. But God has a way of getting His message across to anyone who will listen. That message can be summed up in these verses.

John 16:33 “These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation but take courage; I have overcome the world.”

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

None of us have a promise of an easy time as we “Travel the Rock Road,” but like Ma and like Aunt Pearl, God has made a promise that no matter what comes our way, He’ll be there for us. During the low times, He’s there to comfort saying, “I’m so proud of you”. During our moments of victory, He’s there saying “I’m so proud of you.” One writer put it this way. “I can’t brag about my love for God because I fail Him daily. But I can brag about His love for me, because it never fails.” Knowing God is cheering me on, I think I have a good reason to smile through the bumps and bruises of life. Amen? I know life won’t be perfect until I reach Heaven and that’s alright by me. Now when I get there, and it happens that I run into a female Sergeant Slaughter type saying, “Johnny, you still owe me a history assignment;” well, you can be sure I’ll be happy to see her then disappear to the other side of Heaven for a couple hundred years!

See ya next time.

Back around 1981, I was laid off from my company for a few weeks so I was forced to file for unemployment benefits. Like everything else before the computer age, you had to go down to the Unemployment office, fill out a form they gave you, then stand in line for hours before you could talk to someone and get the ball rolling to receiving your weekly allowance. Many from the plant were in the same boat with being furloughed, so I knew many who had come to get help as I did. Noticing one individual in particular who just stared at the form in his hand, then looked around the room, gave me a pretty good idea he had more of a problem than just unemployment. Catching his eye, I motioned him over to where I was sitting; we spoke for a short minute, then got busy filling out his form. This brother couldn’t read. Not making a big issue over it, I filled out the paperwork from the info he gave me. Then I gave him clues on how to recognize what question was being asked on the form and we made a quick list of the answers that went with them; this way he could handle the next one on his own. Thanking me, he got up from his chair and headed over to get in line to see a rep. Before I could join him, another individual came up and asked if I could help them. By the time I was able to take care of my own form I had helped five different people. At home that evening I thought about those people and their short coming of not being able to read. I won’t lie, I’ve always felt a little pride in helping others, but this time all I felt was sadness. You see there was a time I could relate to their situation. As a child, I never learned to read until I was 12 years old. I would look at books trying to get an idea what the words were saying from pictures on the pages. I memorized a handful of words that gave me some understanding, but for the most part the written language was a deep mystery to me. I could remember how insufficient and insecure I felt that I didn’t understand like the rest of my classmates. Those feelings of being less than everyone else stayed with me, that is until an earthly angle in the form of a substitute teacher named Esther Cobb took an interest in me and discovered the secret that so many had missed. Knowing how I felt about myself, I remember her saying to me, “Sweetheart, you’re not dumb, you just don’t have the tools to understand. And we’re going to fix that!”

For the next two years I went to Esther’s home once, and sometimes twice a week to learn letters, what and how they came together to make words. It was a slow process, but over time magic occurred. The mumble rumble mess of letters on a page became words, words became sentences, and sentences became stories that drew vivid pictures in my mind. I began a quest of reading everything I could get my hands on with William Campbell Gault’s books on sports and racing being my favorite. When Sweet Mrs. Cobb used her patience, understanding and care to unlock the door to understand reading, the world seemed to take on a more positive perspective in my life. I am so thankful for what that dear saint did for me; she gave me tools and understanding to believe in myself. I could never repay Esther for what she did for me, but I don’t believe she would have wanted me to anyway. I feel she took her reward in knowing she unlocked the door of understanding to someone she believed in.

When I first approached Christianity, it didn’t make a whole lot of sense either. It seems like a whole list of rules that were impossible to follow. But I had to, if I was to keep what I saw as an angry God from rejecting me. It wasn’t until caring people showed me that God wasn’t angry and that He loved me. Loved me so much He sent His Son to take the penalty of sin in place of me.

Romans 6:23 – For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.   John 3:16 – For God so loved the world that he gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.                   Ephesians 2:8-9 – For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God not by works, so that no one can boast.

When the door was unlocked to understanding that the Lord was not a God of anger and hate, but One of love, the whole knowledge of how He saw me was unlocked, the mystery and the veil were gone.

Jerry Bridges: “God’s unfailing love for us is an objective fact affirmed over and over in the Scriptures. It is true whether we believe it or not. Our doubts do not destroy God’s love, nor does our faith create it. It originates in the very nature of God, who is love, and it flows to us through our union with His beloved Son.”

As Esther Cobb said to me, God says to each of us, “Dear One, I’m not looking to throw you out, I’m wanting to love you. You just don’t understand that love, but I’m willing and waiting to show you.”

The door to the Heavenly Father may appear locked, but Jesus is the key to open it widely and gladly. Amen?

Going back to my original thought, let me finish with this. Occasionally when I’m sitting at the desk down in my studio, I reach into a drawer where I keep diplomas and achievement awards I’ve earned from institutions of higher education. I’m not that impressed with them anymore. They’re nice to have but truthfully, if I took those and $5 over to Micky D’s it would could get me a Happy Meal! But I am glad I was able to earn them, especially when you think about how late I began my understanding of education. And on those occasions, I sometimes picture a certain “Traveler of Rock Road.” A sweet old girl who saw something when others didn’t. At those moments I can almost hear her words, “You see Honey, I told you, you were not dumb. I knew it, God knew it, and now you know it. I am so proud of you.”

‘nuf said.

See ya next time.

Yes, friends and family, if you ever want to become fully awake at 2 in the morning, have someone point a double barrel shotgun in your face! Now that I have your attention, here we go.

It was many years back, B.C. (Before Children), I had just arrived home after a long shift at work; Cathy was back in Ohio visiting family. After a long evening of working I was relaxing on the couch watching a little TV when there was a knock. Opening the door, I found myself face to gun, with my neighbor on the other end, face pale and eyes darting back and forth. “John, did you hear a noise outside?” “Yeah! It was me getting home from work!” “Oh, that’s a relief.” And he popped open the gun and took the shells out. “Well, goodnight,” and he turned to leave. I quickly grabbed on to his shoulder and stood there quietly as I considered, do I want to speak to him, or do I want to beat him to an inch of life while the gun was unloaded! I chose the less messy path. “Friend, I don’t care what you hear, screams, crashes or an all-out firefight, don’t you ever come over here again with a gun!” He got the message.

The next day when I was calmer, and my neighbor was less rattled, we talked, and I learned a whole lot about the gentleman. It became evident he had a great fear of the unknown. He was in constant worry of what might happen and felt he needed to always be on his guard. He wouldn’t take the newspaper in fear of the paper being tore up before he could bring it in to the house. He wouldn’t go to an amusement park in fear of getting stuck or killed on a rollercoaster. If someone said something he didn’t like or made him wonder if they meant something else, he would avoid them. Another neighbor invited him to start jogging in the morning with him. He feared he might do something like sprain his ankle, then he’d have to take time off from work which would cause financial hardship on him or even worse, lose his job. Okay, I think you get a pretty good picture of this nervous Ned. So, I’m going to get right to my point.

Charles Spurgeon once said, “The worst evils of life are those which do not exist except in our imagination.” How often have any of us worried about a predicament, that as we mused on the situation became larger than life, only to have it not materialize? In this man’s opinion, fear is one of the biggest cripplers I’ve seen in many lives, and yes, at times yours truly included. I’ve seen individuals with great talents that will not expose them to others because of fear. “If you listen to your fears, you will die never knowing what a great person you might have been.” Robert H. Schuller

Certain matters of misfortune eventually invade all of us, there’s no denying that. But do we help the situation by allowing fear to consume our very being? “The presence of fear does not mean you have no faith. Fear visits everyone. But make your fear a visitor and not a resident.”  Max Lucado

For the Christian, fear really should not be the frontrunner in our lives. No matter what, we have a Heavenly Father who cares for us no matter what we’re going though. There’s no promise tragedy won’t happen, but there’s the promise of God he’ll be right there for us.

Joshua 1:9 “I repeat, be strong and brave! Don’t be afraid and don’t panic, for I, the Lord your God, am with you in all you do.”

Psalm 23:4 “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

When we left the neighborhood, I never saw my nervous “Traveler of the Rock Road” again, I can only pray life got better for him and fear no longer ruled his world. And friends, if you’re living like that I’m not criticizing you; remember I said I was once there also, so I feel your pain. But I’m also saying there’s an escape from that dreaded emotion if you’re willing to trust Him who said, “I’ll never leave or forsake you.”

That’s all I have on this subject today, but I’m attaching a video by a young man named Zach Williams whose song really brings the truth of fear home.

Blessings Friends and Family

See ya next time.

The other evening, I was driving through our town district when I spotted an elderly man walking quite slowly, one hand gripping a stick to help him along and the other gripping a backpack. Only a few seconds passed when something inside me said go back and help that man. Now I don’t stop for strangers like I did some 30 years ago, but this feeling of needing to go back and see if I could help wouldn’t go away. Circling the block, he hadn’t made much progress from the last place I saw him, and he was more than happy to have a ride. Climbing in the car proved to be a task as his one leg would barely bend, but after several minutes he was seated and we were on our way. It was less than a mile to his destination but I’m sure to him it must have felt like a hundred. The drive didn’t take long but he asked if he could just sit for a spell, and of course he did. At a point like this I generally strike up a conversation to see where it takes me with an individual. I didn’t get the chance! As we sat there he began telling me where he was raised, what college he went to, jobs he had worked, states he lived in and the wives he took over the course of a lifetime, losing everything to an addiction to alcohol. I can’t count the number of ones I’ve met with the same story. After a while you pick up an ability to know when someone is feeding you a line in hopes of getting a bit of charity. But then there’s the occasion you actually run into an individual who’s being legitimate. I could tell this man and his saga were real from two perspectives.  First, he was quite detailed in all that he told me; deceivers usually give a surface detail of their exploits.  The second reason I believed him though was even more compelling. I’ve picked up scores of down-on-their luck sojourners over the years and they always hit me up for some change or a few dollars. This individual did not ask for anything; all he was interested in was sitting there and having someone to talk to.  I have to admit, I really didn’t want to be sitting there so long; I wanted to get home. But the more he talked the more I realized what he needed most at that time was someone just to listen to his story, allow him to regale the high points of his life as well the downfalls. When he finished I took that as my cue to tell him about the love of Jesus. But I didn’t get the chance because he started telling me!! My new friend had made many a wrong turn on his journey through life, but then finally reached the point where he came face to face with grace, mercy, and forgiveness that comes though the knowledge of Jesus as Savior. And any person who was willing to listen to his story was going to hear the good, bad and the glorious of his “Travels of the Rock Road.” Bam!!

This is where I usually have a quote from a famous author, but today the only Author I want to share is one that spoke to my heart and told me to give a ride to that man. And I believe God orchestrated this moment not only for this Brother, but for me. By giving him a ride, I was able to ease a little of his pain, but even more I gave him the opportunity to share himself and Jesus with another. As for me, well I think God was showing me you never know who is out there planting a seed in his Name.

Two verses did come to mind though. Matthew 18:20, “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” Proverbs 19:20, “Listen to counsel and receive instruction, that you may eventually become wise.”

“Lord, thank you for sending someone to make me a little wiser.”

After a short struggle in commanding his legs to carry him, he departed my car and disappeared into a building. And as I watched him I was reminded of a song written by my dear friend Don Swanger that goes like this.

“A lone and weary traveler comes walking down the road, in his pack he had a Bible and some food.  Rides are hard to get these days but he’ll be picked up soon, by that sweet Resurrection Train for Home.”

‘Nuf said. Thanks for listening to the best thing that happened to me last week.

See ya next time.

Last year my heart was saddened to hear of the passing of an old friend. Speaking to his wife and other family members, they dearly missed this man but were relieved he was no longer in pain. Tom was a large figure of a man with arms bulging with muscles. In his younger days he had been a Marine serving his country in the Viet Nam War. At the completion of his tour, he came home, married his high school sweetheart and they had four beautiful children. Tom was in the construction field and all his life he worked hard to meet the needs of his family. Even though he often worked long hours, Tom would always make time for his loved ones even if it meant going with little sleep, and they loved him dearly for all he did. He was always a joyful sort, smiling and cracking jokes with everyone, and he never knew a stranger. He would go out of his way to make people comfortable especially new young men he’d work with and teach the carpentry trade. The time came when Tom retired; he and his beautiful Lady moved to Florida to live in warm weather and enjoy his love of fishing year-round. Yes, life was good for my large friend.

One day Tom noticed his legs were feeling weak and found it difficult to even stand. Going to the doctor he was diagnosed with a muscular degenerative disease and with no cure would only get worse. Friends and family came to see Tom at his home. Even though he was confined to a wheelchair his cheerful attitude never faltered, laughing, telling jokes and stories with all who visited. Everyone would say he cheered them up more than they did him.

In time this dreaded illness robbed Tom of all his motor skills. He could no longer move any portion of his body, then his speech was gone. Finally, his only sign of life was diminished to a blank stare. Doctors told his wife Tom’s mind was being erased to where he would no longer able to recognize anyone as his conditioned deteriorated. The only thing she could do was wait for the end to come.

It was clear sunny morning. Tom’s wife sitting at his bedside along with a friend who was there to keep her company. As they made small talk the friend asked how Tom proposed to her some fifty years ago. With a smile she proceeded to tell how Tom came home right before being shipped to Nam and they went out to their favorite burger shop, then a movie at the local drive-in. At the end of the night they took a walk around her neighborhood. When they reached her house, Tom walked her up on the porch; he then got down on one knee, held out an engagement ring and asked her to marry him. She then giggled a little as she remembered he had to put a handkerchief down first not to get his dress blues dirty when he knelt down on his knee. After they both shared some more about that precious moment the friend looked over and Tom and her eyes became wide. “Look!” she exclaimed. In wide-eyed wonder the gals stared intently on Tom’s nearly lifeless body. And there, coming from one eye. A small tear. Tom could hear them, and he remembered. A few moments later he drew his last breath. Tom’s “Travels of the Rock Road” were complete.

Revelation 21:4: “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

One thing I had neglected to tell you until now is Tom had given his life to Jesus years ago. As much as he loved his family and friends, he loved his Savior even more. That’s where he put all his faith, all his trust. This was the reason he did not fear death and would be so cheery during his last days of coherency. It’s also the reason that even though his family was losing this wonderful man they loved, they confidently believed he would be with them one day again.

Of course, we have no way of knowing what brought on the tear that day; I’m sure there are numerous medical reasons experts can point to. But his Lady feels it wasn’t pain or sadness, it was Tom hearing her words of how their lives started together, and it brought him joy. That was his way of saying “I remember that wonderful moment. Now I’m going to Home to Jesus, I’ll see you there.

John 14:2 “In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?”

“My Home is in Heaven. I’m just passing through this world.” Billy Graham. And Tom.
Even though I miss talking to my friend, I am so happy for Tom because I know he is happier than he has ever been in his life.

I’m going to end this story with the verse I used prior, because that’s what Tom would want.

Revelation 21:4: “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Look forward to when I see you again, Big Man, my Brother.

See ya next time.

Back in the 80s I got to know a talented guitarist who was playing a in a band known as one of the tops in their particular style of music. I loved to watch how he made difficult guitar riffs look easy and how you could see the joy he had performing his skills. When the opportunity came for me to meet him, I jumped at it. What a thrill to sit down over coffee with this artist and pick his brain on what it took to make it to the level he had in the music industry. But the story he shared with me on how he almost quit playing entirely became more interesting.

Early in is career he had worked with a lower level band like most trying to make it to the big time. His skills weren’t as crafted as they were now, but he loved playing and performing even if it was for only a small audience and looked forward to every gig. The band finally got its foot in the door as the opening performance for a well-known group that was going on tour. My friend was so excited about this opportunity he hardly slept most nights. Then several days before he was to leave, the group leader called to tell him he wouldn’t be going. They were replacing him with a better guitarist. Did that ever hit home! That same thing happened to me and the hurt and anger was so fierce in me I nearly destroyed my drum set. But even though he felt devastated he didn’t have a desire to tear up thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment. Talking it over with his wife, he felt the best thing to do was stop chasing the gold ring of the music industry; just get out and sell everything.

Several days after he listed his equipment for sale at a local music store, he got a call from a guy wanting to know why he was selling an expensive guitar for half its worth and could he come and look at it. Explaining he was giving up music and wanted to sell quick, the gentleman on the other end of the line agreed he would come to his house in an hour to look at it. Imagine the look on my friend’s face when he opened the door and there stood one of his music idols. After a lot of stammering and nearly shaking this icon’s arm off, he brought out the guitar.

In my friend’s words, “When he started playing my guitar my wife and I just stood there with smiles and in complete awe. We were getting a private concert from one that most people paid a good amount to hear. He was doing moves and riffs up and down the neck I only dreamed of doing. All the more affirmation that I wasn’t good enough to be in the industry. When he finished inspecting the guitar he asked why I was quitting so I told him. He handed the guitar back to me and said let me hear you play something, so I whipped through a couple of songs I did with the band. He went out the door saying he’s be right back and shortly returned carrying a guitar case. For the next two hours we sat at my kitchen table playing together with him showing better ways to play. Afterwards we agreed to get together so I could learn more from him. He would come to our house or we’d meet at his place for dinner with his wife. For about a year’s time we met at least once a month and I’d practice constantly what he taught me. He became my musical mentor, friend, and then my spiritual counselor when he told me of the love of Jesus and I accepted him into my heart. One day he called and asked me to come over for dinner but don’t bring my guitar, there was something he wanted to talk to me about. When we got there, he told how he was going out on the biggest tour he had ever done and we were excited for him. I might have lost consciousness for a just a moment with his next words, I want you to come along as my 2^nd guitarist.  Here this guy had taught me to be a better musician, a better man, and what it meant to be a Christian and not just a religious person, and now he was putting icing on an already delicious cake!”

D.L. Moody:  “We are told to let our light shine, and if it does, we won’t need to tell anybody it does. Lighthouses don’t fire cannons to call attention to their shining–they just shine.”

By just starting out with being a friend, one “Traveler of the Rock Road” helped another not to give up on himself, to see that his best talents still hadn’t come out and let him know how special God saw him. How often do we have the chance to help others but we don’t want to take the time or get involved? Hey, I’m just as guilty as anyone! But just take a moment to consider maybe, just maybe, God put some individual in your path for the purpose of “you” being a friend, a mentor, a light to that individual. Just a thought.

Matthew 5:14-16 – “Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven. nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house.”

My friend doesn’t play professional music anymore, but is retired and works on what he calls his hobby farm. But I’m told he always has a young person he’s mentoring in music, life, and the love of Jesus. Now where did he ever get the idea to do something like that?!!

See ya next time.