Dollywood and Mountain Peace

The West Fork of the Little Pigeon River in Pi... — The West Fork of the Little Pigeon River in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Last week, all week, we spent in Pigeon Forge and Gaitlinburg, Tennessee. Six of us went there, my wife, our two kids, and two of their friends. We rented a cabin, rather than stay in a hotel. We cooked breakfast, but ate out in the evenings. Lots of choices of places to eat, too. Two days we spent at Dollywood Park, on rides and taking in some shows. While walking around, lots of country and folk bands played. The weather was warm, but not overly humid, and it didn’t rain, like it did the last time we visited. We took time to explore tourist shops in Gaitlinburg.

The thing about the entire area is that people, while mostly tourists coming for the entertainment as well as visits to the Great Smokey Mountain National Park, were a model of behavior. Lots of people. Lots of respect for each other, too. It wasn’t too crowded, in comparison with Memorial Day weekend, but there were still a lot of people. This respect, for lack of a better word, was especially noticeable while driving: people maintained a safe driving distance, didn’t drive too much over the speed limit, and made way for others to enter their lanes of travel when needed.

The experience left me relaxed. And one the way back we stopped at a trail head that crossed a river. We didn’t walk far, but played on large boulders that sat like islands clustered together in the river. We also stopped for some photo opportunities at Newfound Gap, that is a ridge along which the Tennessee and North Carolina boundary runs.

Yes, the time there left us relaxed, feeling good.

That changed as soon as we entered the Atlanta metro area. The rush of traffic pressed against us. The tension stripped the beneficial peace we’d found in the Smokey Mountains. We were home. Which of course makes me thing about why exactly do we remain in such a place such as this, in which we live. We ended up farther from my wife’s office than she’d originally thought possible, when she accepted a transfer to Atlanta. I’d hoped, of course, to live even farther away. But at the time we moved here, we were on the rural edge, just beyond the metro growth ring around Atlanta. That ring expanded over the last few years to encompass our home.

What we’ve done to cope is build a garden between our home and the creek that runs behind us. We’ve mixed hundreds of yards of top soil into the red clay, making it possible to grow a wide variety of edible and medicinal plants and flowers and roses and trees. We’ve expanded and expanded the garden to make a small enclave that promotes some feeling of serenity despite the occasional noise from the office buildings across the creek–office buildings that have morphed into small, light industry with associated noises even at the early hours of the morning.

It’s easier to find peace beside a river, in the mountains. But peace isn’t external. Peace is internal. And, yes, true and lasting peace comes from knowing the Lord Y’shauJesus as Lord and Savior. Yet, in this world, we must find some worldly peace, too. Our bodies need it. And if I can find some measure of peace amid the rancor stressed out people rushing to make a living, then that is a good thing. Shalom!

Lord Bless, Keep, Shine . . .

Simply Listen, Preach Jesus

Progressing through the Book of the Acts of the Holy Spirit (Acts), I’ve stopped often to think about various passages. I’ve made some notes, too. I’ve just neglected to share them here, in JonahzSong. But today may be a good day to return.

In the midst of Acts chapter eight, without so much as a paragraph break, I find the Holy Spirit whisking away Philip to the desert. Many have fled the city to some desert place; usually it is to fast and pray, or perhaps to be tested. But Philip immediately comes to a caravan and is instructed to join himself to it. He discovers a man from Ethiopia, who’d been to Jerusalem to worship, reading from the book of Isaiah 53:7,8:

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth.
8 By oppression and judgment he was taken away; and as for his generation, who considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people?
9 And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death, although he had done no violence, and there was no deceit in his mouth.

Philip approaches the man, asks if he understands this scripture. The man replies that he can’t except with a guide. The Bible is too complex for him, he needs help. Matthew Henry puts it this way: “The eunuch in a sense of his need of assistance, desires Philip’s company (Act_8:31): “How can I understand, says he, except some one guide me? Therefore pray come up, and sit with me.” (1.) He speaks as one that had very low thoughts of himself, and his own capacity and attainments. He was so far from taking it as an affront to be asked whether he understood what he read, though Philip was a stranger, on foot, and probably looked mean (which many a less man would have done, and have called him an impertinent fellow, and bid him go about his business, what was it to him?) that he takes the question kindly, makes a very modest reply, How can I? We have reason to think he was an intelligent man, and as well acquainted with the meaning of scripture as most were, and yet he modestly confesses his weakness. Note, Those that would learn must see their need to be taught. The prophet must first own that he knows not what these are, and then the angel will tell him, Zec_4:13. (2.) He speaks as one very desirous to be taught, to have some one to guide him. Observe, He read the scripture, though there were many things in it which he did not understand. Though there are many things in the scriptures which are dark and hard to be understood, nay, which are often misunderstood, yet we must not therefore throw them by, but study them for the sake of those things that are easy, which is the likeliest way to come by degrees to the understanding of those things that are difficult: for knowledge and grace grow gradually. (3.) He invited Philip to come up and sit with him; not as Jehu took Jonadab into his chariot, to come and see his zeal for the Lord of hosts (2Ki_10:16), but rather, “Come, see my ignorance, and instruct me.” He will gladly do Philip the honour to take him into the coach with him, if Philip will do him the favour to expound a portion of scripture to him. Note, In order to our right understanding of the scripture, it is requisite we should have some one to guide us; some good books, and some good men, but, above all, the Spirit of grace, to lead us into all truth.”

So, Philip does as requested.

Then Philip opened his mouth, and began at the same scripture, and preached unto him Jesus.

Acts 8:35

The thing is, there is a simplicity to Philip’s ministry. First, Philip listened to the Spirit of the Lord. Second, he followed what he heard. Third, Philip listened to a man who is truly seeking G-d, and understanding. Finally, Philip preached Jesus.

Back to basics. Keeping it simple. People who truly seek, are saved. Praise the Lord.

Lord Bless, Keep, Shine. . .

Retreating

Atlanta Urban landscape (Photo credit: glen edelson)

Last night I went to see my daughter’s basketball team play. I didn’t leave early enough, catching the “rush hour” traffic jam, and arrived at half time, I missed seeing her play; she’d played the first two quarters. The game was 33.5 miles from my home. It took one-and-one-half hours to get there. We left after the game, and were home in three-quarters of an hour. The whole thing reminded me of why I dislike cities.

I live where it was once rural. The city swelled, spilling out over a vast area that takes hours to cross, even when there is little traffic to impede the flow. Each day my wife heads down into that city–into Atlanta–to her office. She leaves early in the morning before the worst of the traffic begins to clog the roads. She tries to return home in a similar manner, avoiding the evening stagnation. Leaving early isn’t always an option. More time than she’d like, than I’d like, some city dweller thinks nothing of scheduling an important meeting for five o’clock. One day the traffic snarled after a traffic accident, and she was nearly two hours getting home. And we are 28 miles from her office, which isn’t even in the Atlanta downtown district.

The thing is, Atlanta, including its surrounding metro area, contains five million people. Not twenty, like New York, not fifteen, like LA. The population of Atlanta city proper is less than a million and the area is fairly large. But during the day, the city swells like a balloon and tries to empty all at once.

Colorado Meadows (Photo credit: QualityFrog)

So today I’m mentally retreating. I’m closing my eyes and remembering Eagle Lake, up in northern California. I stood near the lake one winter night with a lady friend. We were trying to see a comet. We’d driven up to the lake from a small town in which we both lived. There were no lights in the distance. The stars filled the heavens all the way to the horizon. The air. . . clean, crisp, pure. And the quiet. Peaceful.

When I lived in the coastal town of Arcata, some years ago, I walked out of my house, and within a few hundred feet dropped into the very empty low lands that led to the beach a mile of so away. I was a ‘runner’ then, as well as a long-distance bicyclist. On the weekends, if I wanted a hilly run, I’d go the opposite direction from the beach, passing through the heart of the town in only a moment or two–as the saying goes, don’t blink you’ll miss it–and follow trails into the redwood forest. I remember one day just running and running and running, up hill, down hill, nearly lost among the giant trees.

I wonder, on occasions like this, “why did I ever leave?” Perhaps I can only appreciate what was, rather than what is.

I’ve also thought that I’m not really of this modern age. Some years ago I got into studying America’s Fur Trapper Era. I was living in the mountains of Arizona, and I’d read about people going to a rendezvous in Colorado that celebrated in costume and custom the famous trapper-trader get-togethers of the 1820-40s. I built from a kit a muzzle loading rifle, and gathered or made gear that went with it–everything from powder horn to possibles bag. I researched costumes. While I never did go the a rendezvous, that Era some how just felt right for me.

It is wrong to say I was born in the wrong time, for G-d knew me before I was conceived. I just have a hard time living without “elbow room.”

Lord Bless, Keep, Shine. . .

Holiday After Shock

Holiday time is a busy time. Around here, its constantly on the go. It’s a time, in my household at least, in which we work hard preparing for the holiday, barely enjoy it, then abruptly disassemble and rearrange the home to get back to normal. It’s exhausting–for me, anyway. This holiday was special, though. One of my kids passed his driver license test (94 out of a 100, with the average being 67–not too shabby, huh!) and the other received her permit to learn to drive. So now one kid is spreading restless wings, and finding freedom to roam, while the other is learning to fly, in my pickup truck accompanied by me.

And sports, too, dominated the holidays. Lots of practices and games for each of the kids. Both my wife and I try to attend each game and match. On a couple of occasions it meant one of us at a wrestling match, the other at a basketball game. Both kids are doing well, enjoying their teams and competitions. The school basketball teams, girls and boys, have done well. Saturday afternoon the girls won against Mt. Paran Christian 72-21. The varsity wrestling team took third in its last tournament. In individual tournaments, my boy has taken second and third, and at a “take down” tournament, he took first overall, with the second-highest number of take downs in the tournament’s history. My daughter finished up softball season just before the holidays with a letter and an award for most improved. It was her first year playing softball. No she’ll get her letter”mans” jacket to proudly display her letter.

The weather has been warm and wet on and off for the last month. Over the weekend the temperature hit 76F (about 24C) under cloudy skies. It’s different from the year, not too many ago, in which we received five inches of snow. But before one says, “Ahah! Global Warming is Real (opps, it’s called Climate Change now),” one must realized there was a spring in 1973 while I was at Fort Benning, GA, it snowed enough to stop all traffic. And Fort Benning is much farther south in Georgia than we currently live. Okay, so we are getting variations in the climate from decade to decade. Anyway, it’s been nice and the trees, bushes, even dormant flowers, seem to enjoy all the rain. We were able to clear the dropped leaves–tons of ’em–before the rains could make them soggy, which will help during the spring clean up.

[ASIDE: I didn’t intend to write this like one of those family letters often sent during the Christmas Season; it just came out that way.]

So as for me, I’m feeling like I need to once again withdraw from people and books and radios and televisions and most of everything except the Word of G-d and His presence. It’s sort of a nagging feeling that says, “stop paying attention to all the controversies and disagreements and stuff going on in the world. Rest in the Lord, being filled by His Spirit. So be it. But at the same time I’m inclined to write. I have some ideas, inspiration maybe, for a new direction for JonahzSong, too.

I’m running of reserve battery on my computer, so will wrap it up for now.

Lord Bless, Keep, Shine. . .

Earlier this Morning. . .

. . . I pull myself out of bed early to prepare the day. Make oatmeal for my wife, who just hopped into the shower. Let the dogs outside. Set out some things for my wife to make a salad for lunch. Cut up an apple, put it in a baggie for my wife to take with her on her drive to her office. Make sure my daughter is getting up. She is almost out of bed. Return the the kitchen. Make two turkey and cheese breakfast burritos and pour a glass of orange juice. That’s my daughter’s breakfast, which I take to her. Room Service. Knock on her brother’s door, ensure he’s getting out of bed.

Now, at last, coffee for me in the kitchen. Read Psalm 118.

This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Save us, we pray, O LORD! O LORD, we pray, give us success!

Psalm 118:24,25

Pray a praise for the Psalms. Pray for the family, immediate and extended. See my wife off. Clean up the counter, put away salad items. Daughter comes into the kitchen, ready to go. Son follows, wanting breakfast, which earlier he’d declined. He pours cereal into a bowl. It Will Be To Go, Right! I say.

All in the truck, we drive merrily toward their school, radio plays Country tunes today. Near the school, wait at a signal light for the left-turn arrow. An electrical company van in front of us is two car lengths behind the car in front of him. The arrow is green. The van doesn’t move. Honk! Not beep. HONK! Son says I over reacted. Says I drive like him, slow. Explain there’s a difference. Van needed to know it is time to drive, PERIOD. Son says again I over react, that I do it all the time. He is now getting under my skin. Feeling irritated. Annoyed.

Drop the kids at their high school. Drive toward home. Long stretch of two-lane road with 45 mph speed limit. Another van, mini-van, in front of me. Drives 35. No passing zone. Finally, I’m turning just ahead. Arg! He turns where I’m turning. We turn. Okay to pass now. Pass. Zoom past. Drive 48 now. Leave him in the dust. Don’t feel better. Worse, actually.

Home. Irritated. Annoyed. Lord?

Oatmealraisins (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I prepare my oatmeal and think to myself, “Maybe, it’s all because I’m not doing what I should be doing. It’s a reaction to not serving the Lord the way I should.” I’ve thought before that perhaps I need to return to the truck driving ministry.

Yet. . .

Ashamed. I was ashamed at my reaction to the utility van that wouldn’t go fast enough at the green light. Ashamed and didn’t want to feel the shame at having my boy point it out. So I became annoyed. I tried to explain it all away. I carried that irritation onto another van driving too slow for my taste.

Inhumanity is a horrible thing. Being truly human is being truly perfect. Some how, having been around six decades now, I should know better. Should behave better. I should be perfectly human in all ways. Especially in driving. I’m a professional driver, after all. I have a commercial driver license. I can drive the big rigs. I’m good at it, too.

Ego wants me to think of myself as perfected. PRIDE! I sorta keep forgetting I’m a sinner saved by Grace. Humanity is perfection. Inhumanity is flesh.

But, all is not lost. There’s a song I recall that has a line that sums it up the hope, “He’s not finished with me yet.”

By G-d’s grace we are saved from the punishment we deserve for our sin. By G-d’s mercy we are blessed with good things, things we didn’t earn.

Oatmeal Raisin Cookies (Photo credit: Chiot’s Run)

Children, we are. We stumble. We fall. He picks us up. He washes our face. He says it’ll be okay. Then He gives us an oatmeal cookie! Praise His Holy Name!

Lord Bless, Keep, Shine upon y’all throughout this beautiful week.

KISS

We make things complicated some times. Perhaps we’re too learned, to knowledgeable. Perhaps we analyze too much. Or maybe we just think too much. Take the Book of Revelation, for example. It’s a Divinely inspired look at. . . What, exactly?

I’ve been rereading the Book of Revelation. In the first chapters of the Book, Y’shuaJesus is speaking to Seven Churches. As I’m reading it’s hard not to recall various things I’ve been “taught” over the years about these Churches. I’m trying to just read the Book without all the internal dialogue of what others’ think it all means. I’m trying to KISS; Keep It Simple. . .

Some times it takes fresh, innocent, eyes to see things we “educated,” mature folks do not see. Many years ago there was a railroad bridge crossing a highway leading east out of the then rural town of Atascadero, California. The bridge height was right at 14 foot. One day a tractor-trailer rig approached it. The driver saw height warning, knew that he was only 13 and-a-half-feet high, so proceeded under the bridge. About half way through he came to a very sudden stop. His trailer hit. The road under the railroad goes down to the bridge, under the bridge, then immediately back up. The trailer was long. The rear of the trailer was still high, while the front was beginning to rise on the other side of the bridge. Hence, the trailer stuck.

The driver tried unsuccessfully to back the rig out. Stuck good, he was. A large tow truck was called. It came, tried, and gave up. A lot of experienced people, ranchers on their way by included, were out there looking at the stuck truck, scratching their heads wondering what to do. Eventually a small boy walked up and asked the men why not just let the air out of the tires. To the credit of the men, they took the boys advice, let the air out, and the driver backed the rig slowly out from it’s prison.

Out of the mouths of babes.

Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.

KISS the Bible. Read like a child. At least that’s what I’m doing with the Book of Revelation now.

Lord Bless, Keep, Shine. . .