Sunlight shines through the trees and blankets the trail, winding itself through the woods. The mountain streams jump over the boulders stuck in the bottom, causing a hiker to wade through water and jump onto the rock face to get to the other side.
The poles used as guidance try to form a rhythm with the hiker's feet, simultaneously touching the ground with the opposite foot, but constantly going in tune with the wrong foot, causing the hiker to slow up more times than needed.
The hiker has been through a lot in a period of time. Mile 25 of the almost 30-mile trek and he is still standing. Somehow. What started out as a strong few miles ahead of the pack turned slowly but surely into an almost wheezing middle of the road before ending off at a somewhat level mark. Not to mention the longer journey that took seemingly an entire year to traverse.
--
Walking down the trail blanketed by sunlight, a voice breaks the silence. It's a calm, curious voice, asking a question that sounded a bit too familiar to the hiker.
"Are you a Christian?"
The hiker knew where this was going....oh well...
"I don't know."
"Well, why don't you know?" He always had to ask that next question after the initial one.
"I don't know."
The mixture of frustration, fatigue and near anger was building within. One of those Strawberry smoothie-like Power Bar things was needed. Anything not to go off on a bitter rampage. The voice had heard this all before, though. Maybe a bit too much.
"Well, do you believe Christ is the Savior? That He died for your sins on the cross? That the wrath you deserved was placed upon Him?"
By this point, the hiker was so exhausted that he couldn't recall what the voice had asked him.
"Yes."
Yes? Why did he say yes? Was it the frustration? Was it the fatigue? Was it just to appease the voice and make it silent and not ask those same questions that had been asked time in and time out? No one may ever know.
--
A Power Bar and many plates of buffet lunch later and the hiker almost passes out on a bed. The house is quiet. Very quiet. A guitar plays in the background, playing the music that would soon be heard by hundreds and hundreds the next morning. The music is peaceful, soothing and calm, all needed after what the prior three days had brought to the weary hiker.
Minutes go by. Then hours. Then more hours. The day goes on and soon becomes night, but as the hours went on, the seconds tick down, one by one. Many seconds had been ticking down for quite a long time, as if someone had placed a permanently-ticking stopwatch on one's life.
What does it all mean? The time on the trail is still in the hiker's mind. Yes. Yes. Yes. What is he thinking about? Why did he say yes? Did he believe what he was saying? Impossible. This hiker had said no. I don't know. Possibly. Sort of. Yes was a far-fetched answer.
Why did he say yes?
--
The movie screen projects an image in the cold garage. Sprawled out on couches that covered the ground, an image dominates the screened. Red is everywhere, taking over the screen like water covering an expansive area. The parts that weren't red display a man. Looking up, mouth open, but words are unable to come out. Long, deep breaths are the most that escape from his mouth, the one area that does not look badly damaged. The sky is dark, gloomy, ominous, as if wrath and fury are about to strike down, the same way right before a major storm is about to touch down on a land.
The image is powerful. Captivating. It strikes emotion to those in the room and it speaks to those in the room. Everyone in the room. The image is a visual. One of those visuals that stays with a person for a long time. It is late when the movie ends. After a long weekend, it is finally time to go to sleep.
--
The hiker's eyes open differently than ever before. Sitting up in bed for the first time that morning, he is different. He feels different. He feels funny. Not like sick funny, just funny. Different funny. What is this feeling in him? Happiness follows this feeling. What happened yesterday?
More than he at first realized.
More than he could understand.
More than he will ever know.
Because that day was April 23, 2011. One year ago.
"It's the repetition of affirmations that leads to belief. And once that belief becomes a deep conviction, things begin to happen." --Muhammad Ali
Monday, April 23, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
"You are FREE. You are HOME! The One you lifted up fully, you now KNOW."
How many times?
How many times must I feel this way?
How many times can this convict me this way?
How many times do the pictures flash by and this strange feeling comes over me?
How many times did I walk right past you?
How many times did I not say a word to you after I walked past you?
How many times did I judge you?
How many times did my stubbornness and sinful nature prevent me from seeing the truth?
How many times did I not care what you had to say?
How many times was I such a mocking sinner towards you?
How many times did I not see you for a person and not group you in a category?
How many times shall I condemn myself for all the wrong I've done?
How many times do I need to call out to you?
How many times did you ignore the scoffers and keep on preaching?
How many times were you betrayed?
How many times were you spit on and mocked?
How many times have you poured your grace out on me?
How many times have you called me yours?
How many times have you forgiven me?
How many times will I cry out in rejoice?
How many times can one sing to you?
How many times can you be a propitiation for me, a gift I don't deserve?
How many times will I forget all this?
How many times will you remind me and still love me anyways?
1 John 2:1-3
S.A.M.
r.i.p.
How many times must I feel this way?
How many times can this convict me this way?
How many times do the pictures flash by and this strange feeling comes over me?
How many times did I walk right past you?
How many times did I not say a word to you after I walked past you?
How many times did I judge you?
How many times did my stubbornness and sinful nature prevent me from seeing the truth?
How many times did I not care what you had to say?
How many times was I such a mocking sinner towards you?
How many times did I not see you for a person and not group you in a category?
How many times shall I condemn myself for all the wrong I've done?
How many times do I need to call out to you?
How many times did you ignore the scoffers and keep on preaching?
How many times were you betrayed?
How many times were you spit on and mocked?
How many times have you poured your grace out on me?
How many times have you called me yours?
How many times have you forgiven me?
How many times will I cry out in rejoice?
How many times can one sing to you?
How many times can you be a propitiation for me, a gift I don't deserve?
How many times will I forget all this?
How many times will you remind me and still love me anyways?
1 John 2:1-3
S.A.M.
r.i.p.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
"...Trampling over death by death. Come awake, come awake..."
Hail and torrential rain gives way to clear twilight skies in the hills of East Tennessee.
Then more rain.
Then the skyline with the distinct tower that should be in Gotham before swinging northwards to the end destination.
After a drive, the lights of urbanization shut off and the world seemingly goes to sleep with nothing more than a house light or the headlights on the red Honda Civic lighting the area around it. To the left of the exit ramp, the lights of a small town with the famous McDonald's arches light the road. To the right, pitch black.
Then, a right turn.
The twists and turns of the rural roads wind and weave their ways like small creeks, leading to another small road, creating an intricate web of small roads.
As the sun rises over this land, the daylight exposes what the nighttime had once hidden just hours before. Green dominates the landscape hear, as field after field rolls blankets a rolling hillside or two. Several colors of barn, from freshly-painted red to worn-out and abandoned brown, dot each of these fields and the smell of tobacco or whatever is in full bloom at the time gives the area a certain feel.
The town, somewhere within the low 300's in total population, quietly sits alongside a railroad that at one time was a major factor in its economic success. A post office is the centerpiece of the central area, next to a Baptist Church, directly across from a United Methodist Church. City Hall lies down the road, next to a local ball field. City Hall isn't much bigger than the post office. All the name-brand stores and restaurants are in the next town over.
Here, life is simpler. Life is quieter. Life is where you come home from school or church and enjoy a nice home-cooked meal with the family. Life is where shooting hoops on a grass court or fishing in a nearby pond are part of the regular activities. Life is where the neighbor's dog casually walks into your backyard, knowing full well that he is more than welcome here. Life is community, where the church's congregation knows each other very well and it more than willing to welcome in a stranger from outside into their loving arms.
Life is driving around at twilight, sitting with some of your best friends as you watch a sunset sink into the hillsides, giving off the most vibrant red and orange colors while giving way to the most stars one can see for miles around. Life is feeling that you are part of the family and treated as such, despite there being three boys in the house already.
A small town like this would usually be overlooked by a commoner. It's quite easy to overlook. Stay on the interstate and it is passed right on by. Need to get something or eat a meal? Head one town east. It's simply remarkable, however, how God can take a town of such small size and give it an entirely new perspective.
This town is known as Cedar Hill. It is home to a number of things, namely a family and a home that could easily be considered a second family. It is home to a place where safety is felt, where one can go if need be and the problems go away. It is home to some guys that are true friends. God turned a tiny blip on most maps into a pretty special place.
God placed Cedar Hill into my life for a reason. This weekend finally gave the chance to realize why.
Then more rain.
Then the skyline with the distinct tower that should be in Gotham before swinging northwards to the end destination.
After a drive, the lights of urbanization shut off and the world seemingly goes to sleep with nothing more than a house light or the headlights on the red Honda Civic lighting the area around it. To the left of the exit ramp, the lights of a small town with the famous McDonald's arches light the road. To the right, pitch black.
Then, a right turn.
The twists and turns of the rural roads wind and weave their ways like small creeks, leading to another small road, creating an intricate web of small roads.
As the sun rises over this land, the daylight exposes what the nighttime had once hidden just hours before. Green dominates the landscape hear, as field after field rolls blankets a rolling hillside or two. Several colors of barn, from freshly-painted red to worn-out and abandoned brown, dot each of these fields and the smell of tobacco or whatever is in full bloom at the time gives the area a certain feel.
The town, somewhere within the low 300's in total population, quietly sits alongside a railroad that at one time was a major factor in its economic success. A post office is the centerpiece of the central area, next to a Baptist Church, directly across from a United Methodist Church. City Hall lies down the road, next to a local ball field. City Hall isn't much bigger than the post office. All the name-brand stores and restaurants are in the next town over.
Here, life is simpler. Life is quieter. Life is where you come home from school or church and enjoy a nice home-cooked meal with the family. Life is where shooting hoops on a grass court or fishing in a nearby pond are part of the regular activities. Life is where the neighbor's dog casually walks into your backyard, knowing full well that he is more than welcome here. Life is community, where the church's congregation knows each other very well and it more than willing to welcome in a stranger from outside into their loving arms.
Life is driving around at twilight, sitting with some of your best friends as you watch a sunset sink into the hillsides, giving off the most vibrant red and orange colors while giving way to the most stars one can see for miles around. Life is feeling that you are part of the family and treated as such, despite there being three boys in the house already.
A small town like this would usually be overlooked by a commoner. It's quite easy to overlook. Stay on the interstate and it is passed right on by. Need to get something or eat a meal? Head one town east. It's simply remarkable, however, how God can take a town of such small size and give it an entirely new perspective.
This town is known as Cedar Hill. It is home to a number of things, namely a family and a home that could easily be considered a second family. It is home to a place where safety is felt, where one can go if need be and the problems go away. It is home to some guys that are true friends. God turned a tiny blip on most maps into a pretty special place.
God placed Cedar Hill into my life for a reason. This weekend finally gave the chance to realize why.
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