Intense Reflection

I watched as my only remaining Grandfather took his last, gasping, mortal breath. I stared at the weakening pulse in his neck until I saw the last time his heart pumped blood through his frail framework. His mouth, ever-slowly, began to open wider and wider, and his color turned to death-pale within a few minutes. I watched as invisibly (yet by faith seen), his eternal spirit separated from his earthly body…and he crossed over into worlds unseen.

In my 13 years of ministry, I have visited several death-beds. Early on, it didn’t take me long to realize that I needed to ask an all-important question: “Are you ready to go?” Widows and widowers, shut-ins and those in rest homes that I had barely known for a few years of my life…I would ask, “Are you ready?” I grew in courage and boldness to ask the condition of person’s soul I didn’t even know.

Yet, when it came to my Grandfather, I cowered in fear. Two weeks before his death…he was alert, attentive, and able to have a coherent conversation as he lay in the Critical Care Unit of the hospital. On that Sunday afternoon, I told my wife I was going to go see Pa to ask him if he was ready to go. Yet, as I came into his presence, I felt an apprehension I hadn’t experienced since my high school years of Christianity. I was afraid. I could’ve walked into the unit next door and asked that person, “Are you ready to go?” But when it came to my own Grandfather…I stood as a sheep before the shearers, silent.

I don’t know why it’s so hard to talk to family about Christ, and the condition of their soul, but I do know I’ll have a lifetime to regret (and learn from) my hesitation. Don’t make the mistake I did. “Judge yourselves truly, so that you may not be judged.” (I Corinthians 11:31)

Things I Learned from Hiking the Appalachian Trail: Part Three

Things look good on paper...but, then, there's reality. Looking at a map of the Great Smokey Mountain National Park (sitting in the comfort of a cabin), 20 miles of the Appalachian Trail doesn't seem that long. Then, there's the reality: a 20 mile hike takes a lot of effort. Writing a note on my refrigerator saying that I'm going to wake up every morning at 5:30, and go to LBL to ride the mountain bike trails for 2 hours...seems like a pretty simple goal to write down. Then, there's reality: waking up at 5:30 to exercise is hard! Things look pretty good on paper...but, then, there's reality.

"The unfolding of Your word gives light..." (Psalm 119:130). The Word of God looks good in written form. Every word sitting on a table at home...inked onto thinly sliced wax-paper, bound in leather. It's perfect! It's flawless! It's absolute! Then, there's the reality of my sin-filled life...the reality of my imperfections, my flaws, my transgressions. "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness..." (Matthew 5:6) Seems like a pretty easy-to-read task on paper, right? Except, there's the reality: "All of those who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted." (II Timothy 3:12). The word of God is easy enough to comprehend on paper...the hard part is making it a reality in my life (it's the translation from paper to practice that will always be the challenge).

Things I Learned from Hiking the Appalachian Trail: Part Two

Living with clubbed feet is a little...different. Not only have the muscles and tendons in my legs developed differently (causing what some call "chicken legs"), but also the motion in my ankles is severely limited causing a kind of jackhammer effect on my feet. Over the course of playing basketball, racquetball, or hiking long distances...my feet will throb with pain, and the next day I will walk with a noticeable (and pain-filled) limp. It's been like that as long as I can remember.

This is what makes my decision to hike 20 miles of the Appalachian Trail with one of my best friends since birth (Seth Grogan) seem so absolutely ridiculous. I knew before I ever set foot on that trail what I was in for...yet I chose to take a walk up to the top of a 5,000 foot mountain ridge with a 30 pound pack on my back, knowing the shape my feet would be in after the first day!

The morning after our first ten miles, my feet were feeling like someone had jabbed knives into the tops of my ankles. Growing up, I had spent numerous summers working in row after row of tobacco, for weeks at a time...but this pain was like nothing I had ever felt. There was no amount of labor on the farm or endless summer basketball games that had ever given me the feeling I had last Friday morning. Grogan, on the other hand, is half Shirpa and could've climbed Mount Everest at that point.

About five miles into our ten mile exit hike...I laid down next to a log with my head on my pack. I was exhausted and hurting. After a few minutes rest, I stood up. Grogan grabbed my pack and said, "Ready to go?". I tried to get him to put it down, but he's part mule, which manifested itself in his ability to carry both my pack (and his) the last five miles of our hike...like it was nothing.

Solomon said, "...there is a friend that sticks closer than a brother." (Proverbs 18:24). Some have used this verse to describe the relationship of Christ to God's children, and such is an accurate description. However, there are people who walk with us through life's trials and pain...friends who help us up when we fall, friends who will help us carry our weights and burdens through every rocky path...friends that truly become closer than our own flesh and blood. Thank God for those friends.

Things I Learned from Hiking the Appalachian Trail: Part One

After 10 miles of hiking from Fontana Dam to the Mollie's Ridge Shelter, up 5,000 feet of elevation, my body felt like it was shutting down. There were times that I thought my feet could take no more punishment from the rocky terrain of the Great Smokey Mountains...times I thought I was going to lay down between a log and a boulder and not get back up until the next day. My body was at its breaking point, but I wasn't going to quit. I was going to make it to the ridge shelter for the night...there was no other choice. There was no exit strategy that day, there was no cop out, no trail back to civilization...it was a feeling I have rarely felt in my life: desperation. No matter how much it hurt, I had to keep going. There was no getting back, but by going forward... there was no other choice. NO OTHER CHOICE.

There are too many "exit strategy" Christians...too many followers of God looking for a way around (or out of) difficult choices and paths placed before them, and God is waiting for us to realize that in carrying the cross of Christianity, we must always press on. No high roads to take when we're in the valleys...no off ramps when walking through the shadows. We must press on, no matter what life takes or gives!

Yet, in our instantly gratified existences, there's no longer that desperation to make us appreciate all the good gifts we are given by the "Father of lights" (James 1:17). Such simplicities of life are daily taken for granted: water, food, family...housing, travel, communication. Things don't seem as sweet until they're taken away, or we can't access them with ease. Relationships are more appreciated when there's no longer a cell phone tower to bounce a loved one's voice into our ear, or Internet chatter to discover the latest adventures of life. When there's no 300 horsepower SUV to take us over long distances, we thank the good Lord for the two feet He gave us (no matter how slowly they may walk).

Through desperation comes an awesome sense of humility and gratitude. We begin to truly bear our cross...we walk - not with the expectation of the material - not with an attitude of deservance, but we walk with a faith (in God) that the uncertainties of life are most certainly in His hands. We walk with a trust that, though the way is rough and steep, we will someday find rest. We walk in desperation, knowing that this world is simply a pathway that leads to a destination far greater than any discomfort this life can ever hold...and we must press on.

Lone Grave Cemetery

Paul made his way through the streets of ancient Athens, setting his eyes on every idol trinket and statue being sold in the marketplace. Approaching a particular altar of sacrifice, the etchings caught his attention: "to an unknown god." (Acts 17:23). Paul would use this engraving to preach to the Athenians about the one, true God who does not "dwell in temples made with hands." (17:24)

Coming across the bridge in front of the Kentucky Dam, water was pouring out of the flood gates...churning the river below like a giant pot of chocolate milk. Giant electrical lines stretched as far as the eye could see...their lines all gathering power from this behemoth hydroelectric facility.

Passing the dam, and exiting to the right, I soon came to the border of Land Between the Lakes for my morning hike. A few miles into LBL is the North Welcome Station, a small building (with a rather large parking area in front of it) containing any map one would need to traverse the park. One mile past this Welcome Station, down a side road, is a large, metal gate protecting a campground (for the winter months when it's not in use).

Parking my truck, I walk around the gate toward the place where the North/South trail crosses the road...and I begin my morning hike. This was new territory for me (seeing the trail is 60 miles long, there are a lot of parts I haven't seen). About a mile in, I come to a high place overlooking Kentucky Lake, and once again, an object catches my attention. It's about 40 yards off the trail...and it appears to be...a road sign.

Trudging off the path to investigate, the sign says: "Lone Grave Cemetery". A single, small stone (weathered by many-a-year) marked the grave of an early settler. It was a rather surreal moment, as I looked across the glimmering lake.

The ironic part: passing the hydroelectric dam, the Welcome Station, the enormous campground, the metal gate (all built on land seized through 'eminent domain', in which NUMEROUS graves were destroyed by TVA), I see a warning sign mounted on the cemetery pole: "disturbing/vandalizing a grave is a federal offense, punishable by law". I had to laugh a little. I felt kind of like Paul walking through Athens, knowing the truth of the situation...and seeing the ignorance some people have toward it.

P.S. I'm not bashing LBL by any means, but history left unlearned is bound to repeat itself.

Destroyed Graveyards: Ashes on the Trail

A light, almost eerie mist was falling as I hiked through Land Between the Lakes this morning. Treading through the wet leaves on the packed trail-ground, a figure caught my eye that didn’t belong among the natural landscape of trees and undergrowth: a chimney. Coming off the beaten path about 20 yards, I stepped across a long, thin line of block foundation where a house used to be. Among the leaves and brush, almost puzzle-like, was the outline of room after room on the forest floor. I was standing in the remains of the living room of someone’s house. My feet were settled where a family used to cook and warm themselves by the fire that came from this old chimney. My heart sank.

Why? In 1963, by order of President Kennedy, the federal government used ‘eminent domain’ to force 700+ families out of the land between the rivers (my grandfather and grandmother among them). Many of those families were the descendents of Revolutionary War veterans who were given that land as payment, by the same government that then stole it back. If a family didn’t leave by their specified date “federal marshals arrived to escort you from your home…while a bulldozer pushed down the house, which was then burned…” (betweentherivers.org)

Ultimately, 170,000 acres of land meant far more to the TVA (and the government) than moral decency, as they destroyed multiple family graveyards, Indian burial sites, and even Chinese immigrant graves. “The Promise” (as it has come to be called) was given to the people whose lives were uprooted so long ago: there will be no commercial development within the borders of LBL. They lied.

The over 200 miles of hiking trails in LBL are beautiful, the mountain bike trails are fast and pristine, the lake landscape is gorgeous, recreation is almost endless, and the sensation of being immersed in nature is awe-inspiring…but “cursed is he who removes his neighbors landmark.” (Deuteronomy 27:17) “No man may go beyond and defraud his brother in any matter: because the Lord is the avenger of them all, as we also have forewarned you…” (I Thessalonians 4:6)

Gut-Punched

My first instinct was to walk faster. After arguing with the cashier at Dollar General about being able to buy cell phone minutes with a money order, this rough-looking-young man stood outside the Dollar Store. Eyeing me as I came to the door, I knew the conversation that awaited me when I finished shopping. Sure enough, as I started walking toward my truck, I heard, “Hey man…” I felt my eyes roll back, as he circled around to the driver’s side door and said, “I just sold some speakers, and I guess they won’t cash a money order, so I’m (expletive) on gas for the day. Can you help?”

In my mind I was having this dialogue: “Are you kidding me? I just heard you trying to buy cell phone minutes, and now you say you need gas money? Seriously, you‘re asking me to help you?” I said to the guy, “Nope.” I mean, COME ON…right?

Then, I got this feeling. The nearest way I can describe it…is that it’s like the few seconds of confusion that come during a mountain bike crash. My mind’s thinking, “Am I getting up from this one?” Then, as I lay there on the trail, there’s this eerie calm where everything has come to rest, and my stupidity is clear.

I shut the door on my truck and sat there thinking: “You’re an idiot!” This is the guy that was going from Jerusalem to Jericho in Luke 10:30. He’s fell on some hard times, maybe he’s strung out on meth or some other drug…but he just asked me for help! I pulled out of my parking space and passed by on the other side of his car and thought to myself, “You’re just like the priest who passed by on the other side!” I’m the preacher at a church a mile down the road, and I just left the guy in the Dollar Store parking lot. “Go and do likewise,” just gut-punched me harder than an MMA fighter (Luke 10:37).

Opportunities to help others see Christ show up every day. Sometimes we get it right…sometimes we don’t. Lord, forgive me for the times I just don’t get it.

A Like-Precious Four Thousand

Never have I been in the presence of so many Christians in one place. Entering this massive building there are folding chairs as far as the eye can see...it seems like a quarter mile from one end to the other. By the time the early session of the Challenge Youth Conference started last Friday night almost 4,000 people of like precious faith had trickled into the Gatlinburg Convention Center. 4,000 people seeking God! The words of “Surely the Presence of the Lord is in this Place” kept resonating in my mind.

This was as close to the numbers of Pentecost that I had ever experienced, as we all “praised God” with glad and generous hearts (Acts 2:47). Thousands of voices singing like that “great multitude in heaven, crying out, ‘Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God.’” (Revelation 19:1). 4,000 heads bowed in prayer like the multitude outside the Temple in Luke 1:10, waiting for Zechariah to emerge. 4,000 hearts seeking God like those who had long been estranged from the Passover purification, and now (with zeal) crave the worship of God (II Chronicles 30:18-19).

Gatherings like this help me realize how many God has reserved that have not bowed the knee to Baal. The assembly at CYC helped me to know that I am never alone in this fight of faith…there are thousands walking with me. And as we sang praises to God last weekend, my focus looked toward a future meeting-place on heavenly Mount Zion, where the true number of the faithful will be revealed as countless.

Ms. Wilma’s Crocheted Cell Phone Holder

Japanese fruit pie (or whatever that dark-red filling really was). A 3-foot tall cactus plant (try getting that into your truck). A hand-made, crocheted cell phone holder to be carried around the neck (not really the most stylish of accessory). These are just a few of the numerous things that left Ms. Wilma Byers’ house in my hands as her gift to me. I never knew what she was going to go to the closet, refrigerator, freezer, pantry to get whenever I would visit…but she would always want to give something. And she loved to visit: we talked about tomato plants, flowers, family (whose pictures were like wallpaper in her home), church, life, death…everything imaginable that could be crammed into a 30-minute period, me and Ms. Wilma would talk about.

One thing was a topic above all else: the church. Ms. Wilma, at 95 years of age, was the oldest member of the Union Hill Church of Christ at the time of her passing, and she was loved by all (young and old alike). When she was able to come to church, she was surrounded by a sea of young people (as she sat on the right side of the auditorium). She loved to hear them sing. Matter of fact, when she was admitted to Spring Creek nursing home and Union Hill conducted a Sunday afternoon service there…she specifically requested that the young people come, “especially the singers.”

She loved to be with the people of God. She loved to be with others who were worshipping God. She loved to give whatever she had to whoever wanted it (even if you didn’t want it, she would still try to convince you to take it). I never left that house without a feeling of being overwhelmed with generosity. She epitomized meekness because (in her 95-year old frame) she had a way to overpower you with good. Solomon was writing about her when he said, “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all. Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.” (Proverbs 31:29-30).

"Well done, good and faithful servant, you have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share in the joy of your Lord!" (Matthew 25:23)

Friends Don't Let Friends Do "The Dougie"

Once again, the world has rewarded the stupid with fame. A man walks out into the street, dancing to a song, and then gets creamed by an ice cream truck (not joking...Google it). One would think the fault would lie with the brainless guy who walked into the road to impress his video-camera wielding friends…but no. This not-so-clever artiste of “the Dougie” dance has sued the ice cream truck driver for damages (broken leg, arm, ribs, etc).

When a person can walk out in front of a truck (voluntarily, mind you…TO DANCE IN THE ROAD), and then sue the driver for injuries sustained…somebody needs to re-study the definition of true 'justice'. Solomon said it best: “A whip for the horse, a bridle for the donkey, and an ice cream truck for the back of a fool trying to dance in the middle of the road...” (Revised Herndon Version-Proverbs 26:3)

Moral: Friends don't let friends do "the Dougie".

Letters to My Children: Cell Phones and Cars

A lot of kids have an almost arrogant sense of entitlement about them these days. I believe parents are at fault for most of this. Let me explain: If a teenager never works for anything, is never demanded to wait or save for anything…then they will never learn to be content with what they can afford. They will always ask for more because they’re not the ones that have to pay for it. With this in mind, here are a few ground rules that I will not change when it comes to being a father…because they worked on me:

My child will not get a cell phone until they can afford to pay the bill themselves. I will not co-sign a contract to help my son or daughter buy a cell phone because that would mean they couldn‘t afford it (see first sentence). I will not buy my son or daughter a car when they turn 16...or 18. I will not co-sign on a loan for my son or daughter’s car when they want to buy one. I will not pay their car insurance when they buy a car. This, in turn, means that they will have to get a job doing some kind of minimum-wage labor (Heavens, no!), earn money for themselves (Stop! Please! Not that!), and save their money to buy the car, clothes, or phone they desire (That‘s torture!). They will learn the true value of a day‘s wage, and they will learn what they can and cannot afford.

They will clean up their rooms. They will help take out the trash. They will help wash the dishes. They will help do laundry. They’ll help in the yard and garden. They will learn the value of work (not entitlement)…a notion which escapes multitudes of young people today. They will not be “too good” to do any job or task for someone else. They will learn to volunteer their time and talents for others, and not just use their abilities to advance their own lives.

How will they learn these things? I will have to be the example I need to be for them (and Lord help me to do it).

Letters to My Children: A Heritage

In every culture known to man, families desire a legacy, a heritage, a chronicle attached to their name. This legacy comes through children. The desire to have a family is like an instinct the Lord planted in the ground of our souls. “Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord…” (Psalm 127:3)

This verse presents us with a definition of children. They are something very valuable…something to be preserved and passed from generation to generation. Some people waste their heritage and inheritance. They could care less about their children. Some parents don‘t see them as an investment, but it's just the opposite: kids are something precious that deserves great care and attention.

Children are an inheritance from the Lord. This means that children aren’t just a physical amalgamation of their father and mother’s physical make-up…they are a gift from God. With this gift comes responsibility. We provide our children with food, shelter, education, and (greatest of all)…we have to provide them with an understanding of who God is, and what He expects.

God does not simply give us children. He entrusts them to us. Their lives belong to the Lord. Like any inheritance, kids aren’t just for us. They are meant for a Greater Purpose. Our job is to ensure that our children grow up to be strong believers, dedicated to the kingdom of God's dear Son. Children are an inheritance, not just a possession. May we give them to the Lord, who gave them to us in the first place.

Letters to My Children: Training

My daughter won’t grow up to be an example of righteousness by herself. My son won’t learn godliness or uprightness simply by existing in this world. God has stressed, time and again, the necessity of training children in His ways…and consistent training will help them become one of God’s children later on in life.

Solomon (the wisest man to walk on the earth in Old Testament time) gives us God’s wisdom on the matter of training children: “Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it” (Proverbs 22:6). The importance of training a child in the ways of the Lord can never be overstated. However, this MUST involve the presence of the parents of a child. Presence = time.

See, teaching has to become training. Training involves a supervisor (one who knows the right way to do things by experience). Parents are to be trainers, not just teachers. Kathi Hudson, in her book Raising Kids God’s Way, says that “training always involves teaching, but teaching seldom includes training.”

We, as parents, have to train our kids in the things of God…not just teach them the things of God! We need to be an example of what it means to live as a Christian. We’re the way they see the light of God. How has your light been shining?

Letters to My Children: The Neutrality Myth

Every day brings with it the opportunity to see God. Whether it be in the birds that fight over the feeder seed in the front yard, or the smiles on the faces of the elderly during a visit…God’s hand can be seen everywhere. Creation demands a Creator. That certain and infallible conclusion of Intelligent Design (fashioning a creation which is far above what is accidental or mortal) leaves us, as Paul says, “without excuse.” (Romans 1:20) There is no neutral ground when it comes to the truth that “God created the heavens and the earth.” (Genesis 1:1)

In the same way, there is no neutral ground when it comes to helping my daughter (and soon-to-be-born son) see God’s life-lessons in everyday objects and tasks. Each new day will bring an opportunity for me to teach them to see God.

For example, in the garden, they will see how a handful of seeds can cover a whole hillside with food. The lesson: those seeds aren’t brought to life by water and fertilizer…God gives the increase. They will realize that it is truly “better to give than to receive” when some of the fruits of that garden are given to the people at church, or an elderly person who is unable to put out a garden for themselves (Acts 20:35). They will be taught to work…to earn what they have…to appreciate putting in their due labor because “if a man doesn’t work, neither should he eat.” (II Thessalonians 3:10) They will be taught patience by having to wait on the Lord for the changing of the seasons…for the rain and sunshine necessary for vegetation to grow.

Either I give God the credit and glory (teaching them to see Him and rely on Him), or I give credit to something else. There is no neutral ground. I either teach them to see God…or I don’t. What opportunity have you been missing to teach your kids about God?

Letters to My Children: Preventable Injury

As parents, we take every precaution imaginable to “child-proof” the dangers in our homes. We place cleaning supplies and sharp objects well outside the reach of our children because we want to protect them. Physically, we don’t want any injury to befall our children which we could have prevented. What about spiritually?

Kacie and I have pretty much come to the point where we won’t watch some of our favorite T.V. shows on NBC until Kenlea is asleep (as a side-note: I have to admit that Kacie was the better Christian parent on this one, and I thank the good Lord for her every day). Programs that we used to have no problem watching…have now become a problem. It’s interesting how we don’t notice how many cuss words and profanities are used in a movie (or sitcom) until we watch them in the presence of a pure and innocent child. Physically, we don’t want any injury to befall our children which we could’ve prevented…what about spiritually?

“Train up a child in the way he should go…” (Proverbs 22:6) “These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” (Deuteronomy 6:6-8) What spiritual injury are you allowing into your child’s life…which you could be preventing?

Letters to My Children: Introduction

As a Christian parent, I have a huge responsibility to raise my children in the discipline and instruction of Lord (Ephesians 6:4). At times, it seems like such an overwhelming task. Looking at my own life-long struggles and spiritual weaknesses…all the times I’ve failed the Lord, I often feel like Moses standing in front of that burning bush (after the Lord revealed that he was the man to face Pharaoh) crying out, “Who am I?” (Exodus 3:11). Who am I to be entrusted with such a task? It’s a very humbling feeling to know that I will be responsible (before God and man) for how I have chosen to parent my kids.

Honestly, I don’t know how my parents did it: raising three children who became devout Christians, who then married devout Christians, and all of us are now trying to raise our kids by the same biblical pattern they did...that’s a pretty amazing record. I’m beginning to realize (more and more every day) the awesome inspiration my parents were to me while I was growing up…and the impact they have on me even now. My daughter is learning new words every day, and I have the opportunity (just like my parents did) to make sure some of the words coming from her 19-month old, jabber mouth have their origin in the absolute truth of Scripture.

These next few posts will serve as a reference point for my children when they grow older, as well as being a reminder to myself of how my decisions and actions will affect them. May God grant me the strength to be a good, Christian father.

Books to Red Flag in Elementary Curriculum

extension of previous post:

Stumbling into a Parent/Teacher Conference

My daughter will turn 2 on June 22. It will be another two years before we even think about pre-school…but we’re planning on enrolling her in public school. That scares me. Up till that point, my wife and I will be able to nurture her mind in the things of God, and shield her from things that are wrong. However, once she starts pre-school, our job will become more diligent as parents.

The majority of this nation’s school-aged children (about 90%) attend public, government-funded schools (wikipedia.com). Think about that fact for a minute…that’s about 50 million kids! These kids have very moldable minds. They’re heavily influenced by the curriculum they’re being taught during the years from pre-school through high school. So…do you know what the schools are teaching your children? If you don’t, then (as a parent) you better find out.

Consider this from a biblical perspective…Christ said: “Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.” (Matthew 18:6) I’m only 19 months into parenting, but you better believe that I’m already planning to go to every Parent/Teacher conference, I’m going to look over every curriculum that my little girl (and future little boy) is demanded to accomplish. Why? Because it will be a shame on me (as a parent) if I don’t do everything in my power to make sure my kids are learning the truth about life from a Christ-like viewpoint. She won’t learn God’s Word in the public school system, and she won‘t learn about God‘s way of doing things…that she’ll have to get from home.

Too many parents could care less about what their kids are learning in school…because they’re only satisfied with seeing their children’s rear ends in the desks. Don’t get me wrong, the public school system is a valuable asset that we have in this country, and these schools WILL teach our children…but that NEVER negates our responsibility to instruct them in the way of the Lord. Know what your kids are learning.

That Great, Festal Gathering

“But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, and to the assembly of the first-born who are enrolled in heaven…” (Hebrews 12:22)

The word pictures we have of that blessed assembly praising “He who sits on the throne” are described with such vivid imagery that when I sit among a crowd of believers, singing with all their might, I can close my eyes almost hear the “roar of many waters, like the sound of thunder.” (Revelation 14:2) I can practically feel that deafening “new song” resounding through the eternal corridors of heaven itself…as the innumerable hosts of Mount Zion’s eternal Paradise unite to glorify the Lamb who was slain, so that we may live.

Heaven is never about us. The only reason we will ever be able to stand on that heavenly mountain of Zion is because of the blood poured out in sacrifice by the Lamb of God…for our sins. We don’t deserve the Paradise that awaits the faithful after this fleeting life is over…and that’s the whole point. Why will we worship God for eternity? Why are we going sing His name’s praise forever and ever? Because “salvation and glory and power belong to our God.” (Revelation 19:1). Salvation is GIVEN to us, but it has always BELONGED to God.

That great “festal gathering” on Mount Zion is by invitation only…consider this your invitation. “Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” (Revelation 19:9).

Ms. Wilma

If you’ve ever watched a 95-year old woman cry, and your heart has not melted, then your heart must be made of stone (or close to it). Yesterday afternoon we had the privilege of conducting a worship service at the Spring Creek nursing home in Murray, KY. However, this service was special because it was brought about due to an insistent and zealous request of one of the oldest, living members of Union Hill: Ms. Wilma Byers.

Ms. Wilma is a tell-it-like-it is person. She’s lived 95 years on this earth, and she doesn’t have time to beat around the bush. Some people would say she’s a bit abrasive in her less-than-tactful approach to telling the truth, but it’s refreshing to me. At least you always know where you stand with Ms. Wilma (especially if you’ve missed a week or two when coming to visit her :)).

All joking aside, every member of Union Hill that participated in that service, every staff member watching over the 30 or so elderly in the room, every family member sitting next to their loved ones…had to walk away a better Christian than they were when they arrived. As soon as the singing started, eyes lit up across that cafeteria. Mouths strained to get out the words of those well-known hymns like “This World is Not My Home” and “Farther Along”. You could see that, in their minds, they were transported back to their younger years…when they would sing praises to pass the time. Having those songs on their lips, they went into the pastures and fields of olden days…giving God the fruit of their praise as they worked a work that we know little of today.

Yesterday, every song brought tears to the eyes of someone (young and old alike), but those droplets of joy in the eyes of Ms. Wilma were too much for even the most Herculean of emotional walls. Seeing her…sitting with her daughter and grand-daughter (all of them trying to hold back the tears and sing at the same time) was a beautiful picture of a faithful family that will forever be etched into my mind.

After a brief devotional (based on the departing words of Paul in II Timothy 4:6-8) we closed the service with a fitting song: “To God be the Glory.” Under Ms. Wilma’s eyes were the remnants of long, glistening lines running down to her neck. She said, “I’ll never forget this day. I love you all so much.”

The doctors had given Ms. Wilma five to six weeks to live after finding an aggressive form of pancreatic cancer was spreading throughout her body…and that was seven weeks ago. She’s still just as spry as the day I met a young, 89-year old Ms. Wilma 6 years ago. Maybe the Lord will allow her to live until next month, when we can come together and worship with her again. But even if she passes to her reward before then…I know I’ll get to hear Ms. Wilma sing again in the sweet by and by, where all her tears will be wiped away.

Yesterday was a day I’ll never forget. Thanks, Ms. Wilma.