Traveling the Rock Road

By nature, I’m a pretty happy individual; really takes a lot to see the dark side of my personality. But just like anyone, I have my moments when I feel like I’ve reached the end of my rope without enough left to tie a knot and hang on. Last Wednesday was one of those moments.

It started with me getting up early to help with getting the grandchildren out the door. My daughter also had to leave to get to her job. She went out to her car but came back in quickly announcing that it wouldn’t turn over. Okay, no problem. It was cold out with a strong wind blowing, but I had my sweats on and I wouldn’t have to get out of the truck; just run her six miles to work and back to the house and see if I could get her car started. We were about two miles from home when one of the rear tires literally exploded. I came to a stop in a place that was too muddy to set up a jack to replace the tire. Calling my Lady, she came to the rescue and took our daughter the rest of the way to work. I called a tow truck and then stood in the frigid morning air flagging cars around me while trying not to get hit. As I waited for a half hour for the truck my mind began to work on me. “You know the towing charge is going to be $50, and you might as well replace both back tires so that’s $500. When Cathy gets back to pick you up, you’ll have to run her to work, then you have to go in to your work for a few hours. Hey, you’re down to one car; that means you’ll have to pick up Cathy and your daughter when they get off, not to mention the numerous errands you need to run. Happy Thanksgiving!!” The icy wind didn’t help and the voice inside my head started yelling, “Shouldn’t Cathy be back now; and where the devil is that truck? I’m going to get killed out here.” I’ll tell you friends and neighbors, if aggravation could be weighed out in pounds, mine would have been heavier than a whale. I began to get angry at being angry; that sure isn’t me and I don’t like it!

A policeman arrived who turned on his patrol car lights so I wouldn’t have to stand on the road flagging cars around while trying to avoid being roadkill.  The tow truck finally arrived with a driver that had the last thing I wanted right then; a cheery attitude. “Okay, Mr. Miller, I’ll have you taken care of in a jiffy; good thing this happened before the snow and ice comes, you might have had a real mess then. You can sit in my truck to get out of the wind while I hook up yours. At least it’s a beautiful morning, just look at that sunrise.” I was nice and thanked him for getting there, but inside of me was a boiling pot of grumble stew. When he finished loading my truck on to his, he pulled into a nearby driveway where he did the paperwork and I settled up with him. “Now do you need me to drop you anywhere? No extra charge wherever you have to go; I know it’s cold out there.” Now my smile was a little more genuine at this young man and his willingness to go the extra to help me. I assured him my wife would be there to pick me up soon, yet he wanted to wait just to make sure I’d be okay. He didn’t know it, but he was doing a great job of melting the iciness in my body, and I’m not talking about cold weather.

Cathy came pulling up a few minutes later so I shook his hand and thanked him for staying with me. “Words can’t express how grateful I am for your help, and your attitude. What’s your name?” With a smile as he looked down from his rig he answered, “My name is Emanuel.” I stood there in complete silence what was probably a few seconds but felt much longer. “That is an awesome name! Thank you, Emanuel.” Emanuel; “God with us”

2 Corinthians 12:9 “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

From the time I woke that morning until that moment out there in the cold with Emanuel, not once did I remember no matter what happens God is still there with me offering grace to get through the rough moments of life. Lamentations 3:22-23 says, “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

There was still a ton of things to get done, but it went a lot easier after that moment with Emanuel. And I’m sure many would say that was just a chance encounter with this latest “Traveler of the Rock.” Perhaps. But I can’t help getting this picture of God looking down with some of his angels at my problems and frustration. I can almost see one angel saying, “John has forgotten you Lord.” Then the Lord saying, “It’s just a momentary lapse. We’ll send a special tow driver to him that should snap him back. Emanuel; God with us.

I’m going to leave you with a video of a song Buddy Greene does that says it much better than I can.

See ya next time.

As many of you know we just returned from a wonderful visit to Maine and the surrounding New England states. I confess as much as we try to stay economical on such a trip, it still cost more than we like to spend. As much enjoyment as we got from this recent sojourn, I found my mind drifting back to a simpler time, a less extravagant moment in our lives together that truly brought just as much joy.

The year was 1975, my Lady and I had to watch every penny we had which wasn’t all that hard considering how little money we had. Cathy worked at a bank and I kept a part-time job while attending school. After all the bills were paid it didn’t leave much for entertainment. But somehow, we set aside $50 for an upcoming three-day weekend and we decided to explore our new home state of Indiana. Now $50 will barely get you a dinner in a nice restaurant in today’s economy, but in ’75 with gas priced at $0.57 a gallon, you could travel quite easily.  It also helped that we packed food to eat along the way, plus we were driving an old Dodge van that was carpeted plus wood paneling on the sidewalls and roof and we placed a blowup mattress in the back for sleeping. What made it extra fun is we didn’t have a set destination; we just loaded into the van that Saturday morning and started driving. We’d take turns picking a direction just to see where it would take us. We traveled through little no-name communities and along farmland where corn was beginning to rise and took rest stops in small parks or along a river or lake. Talking to folks along the way was a delight and they would give us ideas of places to go and see. I think they all took delight in conversing with a happy young couple tooling around in what was probably considered back then a hippie van.

Our travels continued south where we ended up in an area we’ve come to love and returned to many times—Brown County and the small artist community of Nashville, Indiana. We spent an evening wondering through all the shops seeing the merchandise the creative people of the community had produced. There were paintings, metal works, jewelry, clothing, leather crafts and my favorite, homemade musical instruments such as guitars and mandolins. As night set in we made our way to Brown County State Park and parked in a spot in the primitive camping section for $6. We bought a small bottle of wine, cheese and crackers and settled into our “luxury accommodations” in the back of Bernie (what I use to name all my vans) for the night. The next morning, we drove around the park which is located in the hilly region of Indiana. We got to see a beautiful sunrise as it came over the hills that showed us all the beauty that surrounded us. Driving back into Nashville we afforded ourselves the luxury of having a country breakfast at a small restaurant on the edge of town before heading back home to Winona Lake. When we arrived back home we still had $10 which was more than enough for dinner at Pizza Hut. I do believe Cath and I still count that as one of the most memorable trips we ever experienced.

I suppose my reason for sharing this story is twofold. First, since those days we’ve experienced more extravagant journeys and seen many great sites around the country and Canada, and have stayed in luxury accommodations from time to time. But we’ve never lost our love for the simple pleasures like bicycling a trail across Pennsylvania and Maryland and seeing towns that haven’t changed in fifty years. We also love driving the Blueridge Parkway to see mountains and valleys while listening to CDs of soft instrumental music. Then there’s the U.P. of Michigan with some of the most majestic falls you’ll ever see. Beauty, wonder and serenity are closer than many realize; take time from a busy life to enjoy them. As one writer puts it, “Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you will look back and realize they were the big things.

My second point is this; how much would I really have enjoyed any of these pleasures if I didn’t have my Lady to enjoy them with me? It’s funny to look back to the days when we first got together and realize how many differences we had. As a matter of fact, many of our friends and even family didn’t give us more than two years before we’d go our separate ways. But God knew more than anyone when He brought us together. He knew we’d have rough times because we were so different, but He also knew that we were willing to become one, in Him. We would grow to not only love each other, but to love the simple pleasures of life, such as His creation. I think one of the greatest Bible verses on marriage can be found in Philippians 1:9 “And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight” In 45 years of marriage we’ve learned the value of not just growing old together, but growing up together with a deep concern for each other’s needs. Another puts it this way, “We just don’t get to grow old together, we get to grow up together. And that’s the read adventure!”

If the Lord’s tarries, we “Travelers of the Rock Road” will experience more adventures and I’m sure many will be will be simplistic in nature, just because that’s the joy that God put in our hearts to share together.

Thanks for reading.

See ya next time.

Cathy and I just returned from a wonderful road trip up to Maine and some of the surrounding New England states. It was tiring seeing as we traveled 2,600 miles round trip, but we both love seeing all the sights along the way and stopping occasionally to take in something we hadn’t planned on. Seldom do we turn on the radio, we see it as a distraction to gazing on the beautiful landscape that our country has to offer. But on one trip I did have the radio playing and heard something I had never heard before nor since that left a lasting impression on this man.

It was an early Sunday morning and I was driving north on Interstate 77. Being by myself on this trip, I chose to flip on the radio to see what programs were being aired knowing most would be church services broadcasting from the region I was passing through. One program caught my interest by the music they played and what the commentator had to say. But the most interesting moment came at the end of broadcast when the emcee finished with these words. “Well folks as you know when I began this program five years ago; if you wanted to give to this ministry great, but that wasn’t the most important thing. It was using this as an avenue to get the Word of God out. I told God that as long as the money was there for each broadcast I would continue on; but the moment we couldn’t pay the bills, I would take that to mean He didn’t want us to go on. Well, today we have just enough to finish this broadcast and this will be the end. Thank you to all the loyal listeners who have supported us with funds, prayers and kind words to our ministry. May God bless you in the future. Please pray for a direction to what the Lord wants us to do next. Goodbye.” After a short pause the station manager came on to reaffirm that was program was really over, and that the commentator asked that people do not send any money to save the show; God had spoken that it was time to stop.”

Turning off the radio I pondered the man’s words for probably the next hundred miles. I had never heard anything like that before. I haven’t watched many programs like this on TV, but it seemed they were constantly having a fundraiser, pleading for folks to do all they can to keep the program on the air, offering special gifts if they contribute a certain amount. Even asking ones if you don’t have the money to put in on a credit card; God would honor you for it. Hmm.

Now I’m not totally criticizing these programs, like I said I haven’t watched enough to know what they’re doing and perhaps it’s an important ministry. But after hearing this Brother’s words and reasoning of why it was time to end his broadcast, it did leave me wondering about the motives of some of these others. He was going totally on faith when he began his ministry, and it was faith when he chose to bring it to an end. I thought about a verse I’ve used often but in a different context.

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.”

Perhaps this minister did not want the program to be seen as his or have people look at him instead of Christ. I also have a feeling that he knew God had something else in store for him, perhaps something better.

I like what Bill Hybels says, “If the request is wrong, God says, No. If the timing is wrong, God says, Slow. If you are wrong, God says, Grow. But if the request is right, the timing is right and you are right, God says, Go!”

I never heard the fellow “Traveler of the Rock Road” again. Perhaps his ministry reached thousands if not millions. Or perhaps like us bloggers he only had a small audience. But I do know the faith he displayed spoke mountains of just who we should be in Christ.

Walk by faith, not by sight. Works for me!

See ya next time.

I was quite sure Aunt Pearl and I were looking at the same house, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell that from the expressions on our faces. She had a smile stretched from ear to ear, whereas my look overflowed with, “You gotta be kidding me!” The house she had just bought as our first home in Ohio resembled the kind of place people would set up as a haunted house and charge admission during the Halloween season to scare the bejeebers out of you. It was a large structure set back off the street. The paint was weathered and dingy and the front porch didn’t appear safe enough to set foot on. The chimney on the side of the house looked like it could come down in a second. The back of the house was worse with half the porch collapsed and the roof sagging in the middle. Several windows were broken out and the basement was no more than an oversized root cellar. Throw in a couple dilapidated out buildings, a half dozen creepy looking old trees and you get the vision of the place they shot the TV show the Munster’s, only worse! The inside of this rickety manor wasn’t much better. The floors and walls were dirty with holes and the musty odor made you want to run back outside. Pearl and her husband Price, as we called him, had been working there already. They fixed three rooms livable enough for them, ma and me. The plan was to bring this old lower east side palace back to life while we lived there. And the cost to purchase this fixer-upper from hades? $2,000.

Dear old Pearly Mae could tell I didn’t share the same enthusiasm as her about the house. “Johnny, we’re going to paint the house white with green trim. When we fix the porches, I’ll put lattice on the ends for flowers to grow up. We’ll have a place to sit out in the evening to enjoy. We’ll rebuild the kitchen and it’ll be a biggest you’ve ever seen. The trees and the building will come down so we can plant a garden. We’ll repair the walls and the windows, and the floor will be sanded and stained to bring the hardwood beauty back out. Someday this will be the prettiest house on the block.” I’m sure I stared in amazement as she pointed out all these great renovations she envisioned. As a child I had a pretty vivid imagination, but I was having a hard time seeing the house the way Pearl did. One thing I did know, there was no one more determined than my Aunt Pearl. So, if she said it, that was good enough for me.

It felt like an eternity that we lived in a small portion of that house, but each day Pearl, Price and mom would be busy fixing, rebuilding or cleaning. We didn’t have a car, but there was a lumber yard a half block away and since the project was done little by little, we could walk the needed materials back to the house. A talented man in home improvement named Louie became a good friend and helped with plumbing and wiring. The out buildings came down easily and they hired someone with a big truck to take the debris away; what he didn’t take we burned up on the back side of the lot. All trees except two were cutdown by a man and his sons and they took the wood back to their place for firewood. The backyard was dug up and we planted our first garden; the next year fruit trees and grapevines were added.  Since the sidewalk leading up and around the house was all busted up we poured a new, one small slab at a time. The porches were repaired and beautified; lattice was set in place on the ends and Pearl grew the most beautiful climbing bluebell flowers. The inside took on a new life, from dark and dingy to bright and vibrant. The décor was reminiscent of Rockwell paintings from the Saturday Evening Post. It seemed like the work would never end, but something slowly and wonderfully appeared.

I remember walking home from school one day in the late spring. When I reached our house I stopped and stood there for a moment to take it in. Where an old house that looked like a disaster hit, stood now a beautiful structure white with green trim, large porches complete with swings and lattices on the ends where brilliant blue flowers grew. Around back I could see the black soil we turned by shovel where small green vegetables were growing. Soon it would teem with enough produce to feed us until the next planting season. The house was beautiful; it was the most beautiful home on the block. Then the thought came to me, “I’m finally seeing the house the way Pearl always envisioned it in her dreams and heart, and now in reality.

“When I think of vision, I have in mind the ability to see above and beyond the majority,” Chuck Swindoll.

As I admit I couldn’t see the house the way Pearl did, and no doubt the neighbors had some interesting comments in their homes about the man, two women and a child taking on what looked like a hopeless project. But none of that deterred the vision and commitment held bt the dear lady from West Virginia. Whether or not anyone else believed it she knew what she saw in her heart and she was determined to see it through. Later in years I realized something else about my mentor, she approached her faith in God the same way she did that old house. She saw something from the words in the Bible that gave a vision of what was ahead of her.

Philippians 4:13 – “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”                                                         Psalm 37:4 – “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”                       John 16:33 – “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”                                                                                  John 14:3 – “And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

No one’s doubt was ever going to take away her belief and her dream of someday being with her Lord in Heaven. Words cannot express how grateful I am to share that same belief and dream that Pearly Mae instilled in me.

It been well over fifty years since we moved into that oversized shack and made it into a home I prize in my memory banks to this day. On occasion I’ve returned there just to drive by and remember. The neighborhood has fallen on hard times and the old house is once again an eye sore. But in my heart I still see the beauty that once was there, because of the dream of one “Traveler of the Rock Road.” Pearl lived out her dream there, and now lives it out in Heaven for eternity.

How bout you; where are your dreams and your visions taking you? It’s not too late. Not as long as you have breath; especially when it comes to taking Christ as your Savior. 

As I enjoy quoting one of my favorite authors C.S. Lewis, he had something to say on this subject, “You are never too old to set another goal or to dream.”

See ya next time.

I’ve been honored to know many men and women had have not only taught me truths from God’s Word, but have challenged me to lead a life dedicated to serving our Lord, now and until my days on earth are finished. One individual in particular challenged me greatly, not so much in what he had to say, but how he lived his life.

Andrew served in the Marines during WW2 and while on board a ship he attended a church service one evening along with many of his fellow Marines, knowing the next day they would face a fierce battle. Hearing the message that the Chaplin gave, and with the nudging of the Holy Spirit on his heart, he gave his life to Christ. “God,” he prayed, “I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring, but if I’m still alive I promise to serve you every day.”

The next morning, he and thousands of other soldiers loaded onto landing boats where they stormed onto shore under heavy artillery fire. Andrew ran as fast as he could hoping to find anything to shelter him from the bombardment. Slowly he made his way off the beach and up to the hills were the enemy was dug in. A marine up ahead of him was shot and he ran over to help him. Dragging his wounded comrade-in-arms to a place that gave them some safety, he checked to see what he could do to help him. This fighter was in tears from the pain brought on from the bullet entering his body. But he looked up at Andrew and said, “Don’t worry about me! “Keep going! Keeping fighting! You’re needed!” Torn with anguish at leaving his man behind, he picked up his rifle and returned to the battle. For over two weeks Andrew would fight for all he was worth sometimes rotated back to rest, but then returning to the frontlines. Then. Finally. The battle was over and he and the rest of the warriors could finally relax.

Andrew made efforts to find out what happened to the wounded man, but without knowing his name it was impossible. The casualties were in the tens of thousands; there was no way to know if he lived or died. But Andrew never forgot the marine’s words; “Keep going! Keeping fighting! You’re needed!” He would remember those precious words all the days of his life.

Returning to the states, Andrew attended Bible college and then seminary. Upon graduation he returned to Asia where he experienced horrors of war, as a missionary. He stayed there for nearly 40 years sharing his faith with countless thousands and leading many to Christ.

When the time came, he returned to the U.S., bought a little home and took up gardening. He had learned much on raising flowers and vegetables and his plants were the envy of the neighborhood. One neighbor in particular asked if he would teach them how to grow such beautiful vegetation. Soon he was instructing others on his techniques. With every person he tutored in gardening, he shared the gospel of Christ, leading many to the Lord. Even though he was retired he knew his mission wasn’t over. “Keep going! Keeping fighting!”

As Andrew aged and grew feeble, he had to be placed in a nursing facility. He was no longer able to use his arms and legs, but he could still talk. Befriending a nursing assistant who cared for him, he told her often of God’s love for her. One evening, at the end of her shift, she returned to his room where they talked for several hours; that night she came to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. The next day she brought a friend to Andrew and told how she desperately need to hear his words. The young lady left his room also a new creature in Christ. Then one day the first girl came to him in tears. Her husband was living a terrible life that was destroying both of them. “If he would only come and talk to you I know he’d change, but he won’t.” Andrew told her, “Don’t give up! Keep going! Keeping fighting!” The two of them met everyday to pray for her husband. Weeks passed before the young friend came into his room, beaming a broad smile, and leading her husband by the hand to Andrew’s bedside. It would be nice to tell you he gave over to Jesus, but he just couldn’t. Andrew passed away several days later. The fight and mission were over for this “Traveler of the Rock Road.” Or was it?

Many attended his funeral service including the gal and her husband. Good old Andrew might have been gone, but he wasn’t done telling of his Lord and Savior. The pastor told much of Andrew’s life and how much he loved Jesus and wanted others to do so also. Of course, he had the verse most known at his service, but he wanted them to hear it again, perhaps listening for the first time.

John 3:16 “For God so loved the world, that he gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.”

When the pastor gave the invitation for anyone to accept Jesus, the husband was first to respond.

“Keep going! Keeping fighting!”

I suppose there are several ways I could end this week’s writing, but I think I’ll end it with this thought of what I believe Andrew heard the moment he was in the presence of the One he served so faithfully.

“Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Another way to put it; “You didn’t quit going. You didn’t quit fighting. You’re Home now Soldier!”

See ya next time.

Some friends told me a story about a well-known band from the 70s that came to their town to put on a concert. These guys were hired as roadies to help set up the stage for the evening concerts. When they finished they became part of the entourage sent to retrieve the musicians from a nearby city where hotel accommodations were more to their suiting.  All the band members were ready and loaded into two luxury vans; all except the lead singer. Entering the hotel to see what might be the holdup, they met the star-studded performer in the lobby and he was not happy. “I looked out and saw you only sent two vehicles. That’s for the band, not me! I come alone so if you don’t have another vehicle just for me, there won’t be a concert. You understand me?” They got it and after a quick phone call a company there in the community soon sent a stretch-limo for the singer and another unidentified person. Arriving at the concert venue, this pompous male-diva continued to be rude to everyone who had contact with him. The only time you saw a smile and heard gracious words was while he was on the stage. Afterwards he sat at a table, signed autographs and seldom raised his head to see the person standing in front of him. When finished he and his mystery companion loaded back into the limo and left. All the people that dealt with him were saying good riddance! It was a great concert, but no one wanted an egotistical self-proclaimed rock ‘n’ roll god around anymore than necessary. Then I spoke to another friend.

He was a police officer assigned to security and also got the full brunt of this guy like the rest. But when I spoke to him there was a bit more compassion in his words than anyone else. He had become rather close with the stage manager that was coordinating setup and the like, and he knew this ogre well from working with him for years. He shared that the singer suffered from depression and, if you can believe it, low self-esteem. The mystery man with him was his personal psychiatrist who accompanied him every moment he was on the road. Even with being blessed with an incredible voice that took him to the top of the music industry he always saw himself as less of a person than he really was. To make up for it he would display a hard and rude demeanor to everyone. Evidently it was the only way he had confidence to take the stage. Interesting huh?

I heard a quote this week by Quincy Jones, “A big ego is often just overdressed insecurity.” Wow, that fit this guy like a glove; made sense explaining his ill-mannered ways. But then I began to think about other folks that portray that kind of personality, including yours truly.

There have been times when I’ve been challenged about my faith in Christ. And on more than one occasion someone would trip me up with a comment or question to which I wasn’t able to give a good answer. I can remember becoming angry at being inadequately prepared for some of these attacks. So, I’d shoot back with something like, “Well, if you want to believe your nonsense and end up going to hell, be my guest!” Yep, that’s a sure way of telling about the love of God for someone. NOT! But after doing some research I found that was only the last half of Jones’ quote. The rest of it goes like this, “Be humble with your creativity & gracious with your success.”

Ephesians 4:2 teaches, “Be completely humble and gentle, be patient, bearing with one another in love.” When I accepted Christ, I gained something special: Grace, Mercy, Forgiveness, Eternal Life.   That’s special, but I shouldn’t act as if it makes me better than anyone else.  I realize I don’t have all the answers and I’ve had to admit that at times. But I can tell what I do know, and in a manor that is gentle, kind, and hopefully in way someone will see it as special.

I really like what Matthew 5:14-16 in the Message Bible says.  “Here’s another way to put it: You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.”

Not hidden, not pompous, but straight up humble like God wants us to be.

The singing “Traveler of the Rock Road” retired a few years back and is no longer in the limelight.  As for his insecurities that he hid with an overbearing attitude; well, I hope he’s gotten over that and has allowed people to get close enough to see his imperfections, and still like him for who he is.

But then, shouldn’t we all?

See ya next time.

My time spent in the music industry was short, but I did have the opportunity to get to know several musicians I’ve been able to keep contact with over the years. One certain individual never made it the big stage, so to speak, but he was a talented writer and made a decent living from other artists recording his songs. I always liked Bobby, as he was called, because he never put on airs and treated everyone friendly. Frankly at that time in the entertainment world ones like Bobby were rare so I really enjoyed seeing and talking to him.

A few short years later I was near his home so I decided to drop in and see how my old friend was doing. He didn’t recognize at first, and he had changed a bit for the rougher. But soon the familiar smile came to his face and he invited me in. The house was a bit cluttered, but over by his piano were framed albums of acts and bands that had recorded his tunes, all reaching the stage of soon to be called oldies. But Bobbie was still making money off royalties so he might have been living sloppy, but he was comfortable.  I asked him, “Do you have new material you’re working on to be released?” With a smile that said, “I was hopping you’d ask that,” he slid onto the bench behind the piano. He began to play the most beautiful melodic ballad I had ever heard. The words combined with the enchanting tune put chills down my body and I thought, “This is going to be a classic!” He played a verse, chorus and bridge before stopping. “That’s all I have so far but I’ve got a record producer anxious for me to send it to him when finished.” “That is so awesome Bobby, I can’t wait to hear it on the radio.”  I left Bobby’s house that knowing soon this new song of his would on everyone’s lips.

Time passed and I had almost forgotten about Bobby’s beautiful tune, that is until visiting another old friend. Frank was excited to play a rough recording he made and wanted me to hear. It only took a second to recognize Bobby’s voice and the song he had played for me earlier. Great I thought, he finished the song but hasn’t sold it yet. As I listened I heard a verse, a chorus, and a bridge before the song ended. Frank then said, “That’s all he has so far, but a producer is anxious to get his hands on it. “I know,” was my thought. Three years had passed since Bobby played me the same unfinished song with promises that it would soon be a finished product for the world to hear. So what’s up with that?!!

A couple of years later and I ran into Frank again and the conversation soon turned to Bobby and his unfinished song. Frank started smiling which told me he knew something. He started, “I went back to Bobby and asked him about the song and all the years spent unfinished. He fessed up that was a tune he started some 20 years ago and never finished it any further than we had heard. He doesn’t write anymore, but gets asked all the time if has anything in the works, so he’ll pull that song out to appease people and tell his jive. He keeps busy golfing, fishing and playing piano at functions like wedding receptions and community functions. He loves his life the way it is, but he doesn’t think people who knew him earlier on would want to hear those things. So, rattle the ivories for someone, send them out the front door impressed, then sneak out the back and head for his fishing boat.”

Rick Warren: “God specializes in giving people a fresh start.”

Bobby was well into his 60s the last time we were together. His time in the music industry had been fruitful for him, but now music was changing and he didn’t have the desire to pursue it any longer. He wasn’t sad or angry like many would be, he was content to do average joe activities now and he was having the time of his life. He just didn’t think people from his past would understand so he’d keep up the persona of still being a writer just to make other’s happy.

God knows for the majority we can’t keep the same energy, skills and desires that drove us at a younger age. The time comes when it’s time to slow up and perhaps take a new course of life. That doesn’t mean we stop living, it merely allows us to stay active as we continue as “Travelers of the Rock Road.”

I knew another gentleman that for 50 years had been a missionary in South America. His final years were spent at home gardening vegetables and flowers. He was always asked by other how they could garden better. This gave him a new avenue to talk to people and share his faith. His last year was spent at a nursing facility before going Home to his Lord. But not before leading three people to the saving grace of Jesus Christ.

Isaiah 43:18-9 “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.

I never saw Bobby again, but I do hope he finally came to a point to say, “I don’t do that anymore, but I caught enough bluegill last month to host a great fish fry!”

I don’t know who said it but I like it. “Today I close the door to the past, open the door to the future, take a deep breath, take a step on through and start a new chapter in my life.”

Works for me!

See ya next time.

I’m guessing it would be a safe to say that the majority of baby boomers grew up with parents or grandparents that smoked. It was the norm! Before the Surgeon General warning on cigarette packs that smoking was hazardous to your health, nearly half the population of the United States lit up on a regular basis, and my family was no exception. Aunt Pearl and Ma were hard core smokers; I think we had ashtrays in every room of the house. After the evening meal I’d see Pearl smoke up to three cigarettes before getting up to clean the kitchen. But somewhere around 1965 she had a routine medical examine where x-rays showed she had a small spot on one lung. That was enough for her! On the day she received the report she smoked her last cigarette and never touched another one again. She shared the news with her family and I can’t say for sure if it was an incentive for her brother, my Great Uncle Sam, but he quit about the same time; with one difference.

On the day dear old Pearly Mae stopped puffing, she took what cigarettes she had, ran water over them and into the trash they went. Sam wasn’t as forthcoming in his campaign of becoming tobacco free. He quit but knew the effects withdrawal can have on a body and mind. Instead, he bought a new pack of Winston, and placed them in the Mason jar you see. Sam told his family he was done with smoking, “but just in case,” he wanted to have a pack on hand if it got to rough for him. He set the jar on a shelf, stared at it often I’m sure, but never opened it. Time went on and as nicotine lost its hold on Sam I believe temptation to open the jar faded and a victory smile came across his face. I can see him holding the jar, showing it off to others as someone would display a medal or victory trophy. “You see this? It was trying to take my life, but I didn’t let it. I won the battle!”

“The first step on the way to victory is to recognize the enemy.” Corrie Ten Boom

Both Sam and Pearl recognized that the simple joy they experienced from lighting up was actually a slow-motion death trap that would cause a terrible and painful death. And they said “NO!”  Tobacco addiction was not going to rule over them, they were going to have victory over this cancer-causing demon. The same can be said for their spiritual lives as well. Realizing that no matter what they did physically, they would someday succumb to death. It happens to all of us. Then what? Old Uncle Sam and Aunt Pearl saw nothing they could do would stop the inevitable, except for one thing.

Romans 3:23-24 “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by His grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.

Romans 6:23 “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

John 3:16-17 “For God so loved the world, that he gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him.”

They won again! But not by anything they did, but by accepting what the love of God did for them by sending Jesus to take away their bondage, their cancer and giving them eternal life.

E.W. Kenyon; “This is a Faith Fight. We win our battle by our recognition that it has already been fought and won by Jesus and by accepting the thing that Jesus has done for us. We do not pray for it. We do not struggle for it. We simply look up and say, “Father, the battle has been won” In the Faith fight, God does it all. He conquered Satan and put away sin. He bore our diseases, so that we only need to thank Him and enjoy it.”

Pearly Mae left this world in 1984 and her little brother Sam followed her to heaven ten years later in 94. Both these “Travelers of the Rock Road” left behind small reminders of the victorious lives they led. I have several around the house I look on with pride from time to time. Sam’s oldest granddaughter Karen now displays his victory jar at her beautiful home. We estimated the cigarettes inside to be over 50 years old, still sealed as the day they came from the factory. Being an ex-smoker myself, I can’t help but wonder how fresh they still are. Nope Nope Nope! I’m not tempted. Took 32 years but by golly I did it! But as I held this prized possession handed down from generation to generation, I could almost see Uncle Sam looking at it with his ornery smile and saying, “See, beat ya, didn’t I?!!”

I got a feeling he said that to the devil a few times, too.

See ya next time.

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.