Supernatural Expectations

Jesus told a parable about a master who gave a different amount of talents to three men. Two of the men doubled the amount given to them while one man hid his talent. When they were called to give an account, their stories were told. The master was pleased with the two guys who doubled what they had been entrusted with. The guy who hid his talent had a couple of things to say that gives us insight into the ways of the master. First, the servant said that his master was a hard man. The Greek defines hard as tough or severe. We might conclude that the master was disciplined and expected serious stewardship of what he owned. The second statement the servant made is a little more mysterious. He accused the master of reaping where he had not sown and gathering where he had not sown seed. Because of this the servant admitted that he was afraid. (see Matthew 25)

I believe that Jesus was giving us a revelation of the Father’s expectation. The Father’s expectation is not natural as in the way we understand expectation. He has a supernatural expectation of us. To begin understanding the ways of God we need to understand this. Anything we can accomplish on our own doesn’t require faith or trust in God. He expects us to tackle the impossible. He expects us to reap beyond what we have sown. He expects us to cross divides of impossibility and pull into our times things that belong to the future. This is a part of the mystery of God. It is also a part of the mystery that the Holy Spirit wants to reveal to us. Paul said that eye has not seen nor ear heard about the things God has prepared for those who love Him. But, God is revealing them through His Spirit. The Spirit searches all things even the deep things of God (see I Corinthians 2:9,10)

Jesus cursed a fig tree for not bearing fruit out of season. (see Matthew 21:19) He expects fruit out of season. Paul instructed young Timothy to be instant in season and out of season. The Greek meaning of instant is to stand or to be present. (see II Timothy 4:2) Our excuses of going through a rough time and therefore not able to stand our ground for God are not acceptable. In Heaven’s culture, trees bear fruit every month. This is also our privilege and right to be able to bear fruit every month.

Someone might argue that these are things reserved for Heaven or the Millennium. Even if they are….. there is no reason we cannot call them forward into our times. There are multiple accounts of men and women of faith who called something reserved for another time into their time. David lived under the dispensation of law when animal sacrifice accompanied every act of public worship. This did not stop him from erecting a tabernacle in Jerusalem and establishing 24/7 worship without any animal blood offered. He stepped across the great divide between law and grace a thousand years before the gap was bridged by Jesus. I am willing to say that it (law and grace) was a greater divide than we have between grace and millennium or even grace and heaven.

I define the dispensation of grace in short form as a time of miracles, power, salvation, Kingdom extension, revival, restoration, and greater works than even Christ did while on earth. I remember Jesus teaching the disciples to pray that the Father’s will be done on earth as it was done in heaven. There is no limit to what we can pull from heaven to earth. When Jesus died on Calvary and arose victorious on Resurrection morning, He had built the biggest bridge the universe had ever known. He not only made a way for man to go to heaven instantly upon leaving earth but gave us unlimited access to the ways of heaven. He bridged the gap between man and Father which was His sole purpose of coming. He extended the bridge to allow us to pull things reserved for eternity into the now. This is revelation that will set us free.

When they ran out of wine in Cana of Galilee, Mary asked Jesus for help. His reply to her was that His time had not come. His time of miracles may have been close but not hardly yet. Mary told the servants to do whatever He told them to do. He must have looked up at His Father and saw a nod come from Father. Jesus began his miraculous works that day. Mary had carried this promise of seeing her son perform the miraculous for approximately 30 years. She pulled into one day what was reserved for another day. This is living a life of supernatural expectations. This pleases the Father.

Jesus’ ministry, for the three years before the cross, was to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. However, a Canaanite woman wanting deliverance for her daughter asked Jesus for help. Jesus explained His present mission was to the house of Israel. Her response was to beg for just the crumbs from the table. Her daughter was healed. She had stepped across the divide of Acts 2 when the gospel would be opened up for all nations. The Samaritan woman of John 4 went and told her city about Jesus. The Samaritans begged Jesus to stay with them a couple of days and He did. They pulled into the present that which was reserved for the future. If these people sound like radicals then God is calling us to be radicals. If they sound like revolutionaries then God is calling us to be the same. God expects this out of us.

Too long we have hid behind our dispensations and eschatology as excuses to do nothing to extend the Kingdom of Heaven here on the earth. Any given Sunday millions will pray the Lord’s Prayer meaninglessly. Are there any revolutionaries or radicals out there who will pray and mean it? Pray heaven onto earth. We often have our minds so set on getting from earth to heaven that we overlook the fact that God is expecting us to pull heaven to earth.

We need to pray big. Expect big. We need to have vision that is impossible for us to accomplish. When Isaiah talks about restored cities and healed nations, do we throw that off into some future dispensation? Even if it is a part of the Millennium it can be pulled into our time. When the prophets talk about a time when the glory of God is manifest over all the earth, do we start thinking Millennium? Yes, the glory of God will be manifest over all the earth during the Millennium but is there anyone hungry enough to pull it down now? When Acts 2 quotes Joel 2 about Holy Spirit being poured out upon all flesh, where do we put that promise? Do we water it down for our time and trust in greater fulfillment in a future time? When are we going to step forward and bring a promise across the great divide of time? When are we going to stop hiding in our caves of unbelief and become men and women of valor who call forth that which is not… into being? (see Romans 4:17) We can change history. Let’s live daily asking Him for revelation of His supernatural expectations of us.

The Simple Life in the Appalachians

The Simple Life in the Appalachians

I recently read this phrase about those who immigrated to the Appalachian Mountains. “They came in with a horse, a cow, a sack of corn, an iron pot and a wife and several children, an ax, a long rifle and a Bible.” (Unknown) We may have more than those who came before us, but we need to take inventory to make sure that life isn’t so complicated that we miss the joy that is supposed to be in our lives.

My childhood life was simple. I would get up and go to school. I was always early to catch the bus. I caught the bus at so many different places. My friend Danny lived out the road and I caught the bus with him until his house burned down. I remember getting there early and his mom was always listening to the Goodman Family sing on their TV. We didn’t have a TV so it was a treat to watch the Happy Goodman’s get so happy… they were actually called the Happy Goodman Family. Cousin Tammy started to school when I was about eight, so I caught the bus with her. My nephew started a year or so later so I walked all the way up to the mountain property to catch the bus with him. This allowed me some more TV time with some cartoons. I usually spent every Saturday morning watching cartoons with him.

Most evenings I would walk to my friend, Ham Bone’s house to watch Bonanza at 5:00. When winter came and it got dark earlier I had to miss it. His family always asked me to stay for supper, but I made excuses although I was really hungry most of the time. My mom never cooked much. Sometimes she would cook beans and cornbread and she fried us a hamburger on Friday nights. She did things in routine. She always washed on Tuesdays. She went to town on Saturday afternoons around 1:00 after my Dad waited an hour for her to come to the vehicle where he was waiting. We went to see my sister every third Saturday. My sister always fixed good food and lots of sweets. Other than a pop and a candy bar at the little store below our house, there were very few sweets enjoyed in childhood unless my sister brought them. She usually came on Wednesdays. She had to park at the bottom of the hill since the road to our house was rocky and had big ridges in it. I always watched for her from the top of the hill. I spent a lot of time watching each car come around the bend. I usually prayed the next one would be her. No matter how much I prayed she only came when her time came. She would turn at the store and come back down the road another tenth a mile and park at the bottom of the hill. If I happened to be at a neighbors house I would still watch her make the turn and be at her car by the time she was ready to walk the hill. The neighbors were amazed at how fast I could run.

There was a worn path that had been worn over the years up the side of the hill. There was another path from the front side that had been worn over the years by my older brothers and sister as they had to go to the spring to get water. We incorporated water and electricity about the time of my birth. A large tin dipper sat on the sink for all to drink out of. A cook stove sat in the middle of the floor. I would often lay behind it and sleep. My dad always went to town on Saturday nights by himself and I stayed there with my mom and laid behind the old cook stove as a child. My dad took my brothers to the movies. I don’t remember seeing a movie until my brother came in from the Marines and took me to the drive-in. I think my sister took me a few times, because I remember some had to lay in the floor of the car and some were in the trunk to keep from paying when we went by the little booth.

Life was simple. Set in routine. Little things meant a lot. A candy bar or a pop. I remember my first Mountain Dew. Drinks back then were only 7cents. I remember the price on the old store cooler told of a day when it was only 5 cents. Wow! Sometimes I would take bottles I collected to the store to trade in for money for a drink. I also took eggs after getting flogged by a chicken that didn’t want to give her eggs up. They probably had little chickens in them. I also collected wool to sell and since it sold by weight, I often threw in a few bones from the dead sheep for extra measure. I helped my brother cut cherry bark from the trees during the summer. Later, I raised my own calves and sold them. I bought my first car at 18 with the money I had saved from my calf sales. It was a brand new ‘75 Camero that costs $3500.00 and I paid cash. I don’t think I have done that since…. But hope to do that again as I continually simplify my life. I’m trying to get back to the original recipe….

Summer life was my favorite. The country store, owned by my uncle, was the center of life. The old farmers would sit there for hours and share conversation. There were usually 20 or more there in the evening and some came earlier in the afternoon. There was a sitting log up against the building and the men would sit there on old pop crates. My dad always offered me the choice of a candy bar or a drink. It was a tough decision because I wanted both. My friends and I would usually engage in different games. Hide and Seek was most popular. Every now and then we played a game called fox and hounds that would involve running all over the hills looking for the one person chosen as the fox.

Life seemed simple. I never left this environment except on Thursdays. Most Thursdays in the summer were spent with my dad at the cattle market in Abingdon, VA. We would get there early in the morning. I would get to eat at the market restaurant. The auction would start after lunch, which went until late at night. One day my dad bought me a pony for $50.00. We took him home. The next morning I got the pony out early and got on his back without a saddle. He threw me off and ran away. We caught him at the top of the hill and although he never became a means of transportation, I loved the pony. I loved him so much that I gave him too much food and foundered him. His hoofs grew out like sled runners. When we finally had to sell him, it was sad to hear the auctioneer make fun of him. He didn’t bring much and I’m sure he was bought for slaughter.

A bicycle was my best means of travel as I grew a little older. My friend Randy taught me how to ride. I remember the straddle pain as I always fell too hard on the big bar between my legs. But, I mastered it and soon was riding miles to other communities. I began to scope out places to begin churches. I talked to my friends about using their garages. They were ready and excited but their parents must not have been. They never materialized. Ham Bone had an old horse and he let me ride behind him. The old horse was the slowest around but it was fun to ride. Summer included lots of creek adventures. It was fun to dam up the creek and make a swimming hole. We caught craw dabs. We worked the fields. Wow, life was simple.

Some summer nights were spent making molasses. We would go about a mile up the road to a neighbors farm where they were making molasses. They cut the cane during the day and put it through a machine that squeezed the juice out of the cane. Then in the evening they would put the juice in a large trough and begin cooking it over an open fire pit. It was a time for the men to gather around and talk while they skimmed the foam off of the molasses on the fire pit. As kids we spent most of our time jumping and playing on the 10 foot high pile of cane stalks that had been discarded. It was fun. When the molasses had been put into containers we were allowed to take little wooden paddles and eat some of the molasses that was still in the big trough. It was simple mountain life.

Then there was Bible School. Bible School was one of my favorite times of the year. I remember the taste of cherry Kool-Aid and cookies each day. On the final day we had a big picnic with plenty of sandwiches. For me this was a banquet. I remember the crafts. In the first years I remember making simple potato men. Later I remember bringing a picture from a magazine and putting it on a piece of wood and brushing a clear liquid over it. The lessons were good. One of my favorite was on the life of Paul and his travels taught by Mrs. Robinson. She was such a sweet teacher and seemed to care so much for the kids. We would sing and say pledges. We lined up and marched into the church. Life was simple. On Sunday mornings we would give a program with our skits and memory verses. I remember I played the part of the Rich Young Ruler. I acted while someone read the story. I always liked acting and took big parts in Christmas Programs. I liked to sing and I especially liked Christmas songs. Our Sunday school teachers would give us little gifts. I remember getting a life savor book with all the candy. I really liked that. I had been sick that Christmas and someone had brought the present to me. A simple life savor book is one of my most vivid memories of gifts I received.

I remember my dad buying me my first suit. We went to the local men’s store and I picked out a navy suit. I chose a light blue shirt and a striped tie. I wore the suit to church and everyone bragged on me. My mom wanted me to wear it every Sunday but I didn’t want to do that. I wore it for my school pictures. My friends were amazed at how good I looked, but some made fun of me. I weighed less than a hundred pounds going into high school so it was common to get picked on. I hated the first years of high school. I was so skinny that my shoulder blades looked like knots on my shoulders and I hated taking my shirt off for basketball. The boys always had to play shirts and skins. They flipped a coin to decide who was skins. I prayed hard to keep my shirt on. Life was getting harder.

In high school I felt a lot of pressure about being a Christian. I had given my life to the Lord in the summer after the 6th grade. By high school time I was already leading youth meetings. I went through a stage of being fanatical about things. I spoke against everything from watching TV to buying things on Sunday. I felt that I had to take my bible to school, which often caused ridicule in those days. I didn’t experience much freedom or joy in living for God. Every time I sinned in a way that was obvious, I felt I had to get saved all over. These were not public confessions but I spent the majority of my time in the woods crying out to God to help me with the sin in my life. In the winter I would drive the old farm truck to the back fields and just stay on my knees in the floor board crying out to God. I made an altar in my room. I remember a neighborhood woman visiting my mother and I heard them talking downstairs of how I probably would loose my mind over religion since I spent so much time alone.

Last fall I had a dream about being up in the mountains near my childhood home. As I came down from the mountain there was a Kentucky Fried Chicken Restaurant there in the mountains. After prayer about the interpretation of the dream I came to the conclusion that God was calling us back to some “Original Recipe“ in ministry. Original Recipe for me is going back to a lot of simple methods and simple vision that have come to me over the years. The more time I spend with the Lord I realize that God is not complicated. He is mysterious, magnificent and awesome but not complicated.

In the early years of ministry here in Bristol some friends were in town that week-end and one of them told me on Sunday morning that there would be woman come into our service with a black dress on. We are really contemporary and seldom does anyone wear a dress much less a nice formal black dress. But, there she was that morning just worshiping the Lord on the back seat. When the service was over she came up and gave me a simple encouragement. It was, “keep it simple”. I have always wondered if she may have been an angel.

In the past, we all may have gone through times when a crisis and controversy seemed to be happening often. These times may be becoming more intense but we must not give in to the pressure. We are part of a Kingdom that cannot be shaken. I believe the word for believers in these times is to simplify. We are called to bring peace to a world with increasing chaos. This can only happen as we increase our conversations and relationship with the Prince of Peace. The times of wastefulness and living our lifestyles on our ability to borrow are slowly coming to an end.
Let’s determine that we are going to enjoy these times! Scripture tells us that the Kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. (see Romans 14:17 ) We need to demonstrate righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit. We are told in Isaiah 60, that when darkness is covering the earth and deep darkness the people, the glory of the Lord is appearing on His people – and the nations will come to the light. We need to resolve to make some progress in getting our lives simpler and ourselves more free to do what we are called to do.

The Mountain Eagle

Isaiah spoke these beautiful words: “But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (see Isaiah 40:31)

When the eagle is about ready to rise up it stands with one foot on the cliff and one raised in preparation for flight. To mount up is to have a foot forward ready to rise up. We cannot mount up with both feet on the ground. When the first flash of lightning streaks in the distance the eagle starts upward. The wind from the storm comes under him and he begins to soar. The storm propels him upward. He goes above the storm. This is our spiritual privilege. We are called to mount up. The storms cannot destroy us for we mount up above them. The eagle shrieks as he rises. Scripture teaches us that a shout has power. From the inner parts of us comes a cry that gives us strength.

Sometimes the eagle will go into the mountains and begin to pick all of his old feathers out. A waterfall is the ideal place for him to do this. After picking all the old feathers out, he then waits for the new ones to appear. We are living in a time in which we need to pull out the old feathers and allow new ones to grow in their place. Only Holy Spirit can reveal to us the old feathers we need to pluck out. For some of us it will be attitudes of criticism, envy, jealousy and pride. For others it will be letting go of traditions that are useless and powerless. And yet for others it will be making adjustments in different areas of our lives. Jesus said new wine needs new wineskins. Are we willing to let go of everything to follow Jesus in these times? Are we willing to make adjustments so we can soar with Him in these times of Revival and Outpouring? It can be the small things in our lives that hinder us from receiving all God has for us. It is the little foxes that spoil the vine and thereby hinder the fruit from reaching fruition. (see Song of Songs 2:15)

If we will judge ourselves it is much easier. The Judgment Seat of Christ is a place where the hay, wood and stubble are burnt up. It is also the place where gold, silver and precious stones are tested and remain for His glory. (see II Corinthians 5:20) We often think of judgment as a future event. Why not come before his judgment seat now? Why not ask Him to cleanse us of all that is useless? Allowing the judgment now should lessen the judgment later. As Holy Spirit reveals to us the old feathers in our lives we can throw them in the water and let them wash on down the creek. What a joy to wait on the Lord and receive the new, fresh feathers He has prepared for us. As His waterfalls roll over us and refresh us, soon we will begin to see the new growth of feathers that will enable us to rise up higher than ever. This is the time for adjustments. Like a chiropractor pops our bones and there is a noise as the adjustment comes, may we hear the pop spiritually of our alignment coming into place. Alignment is the greatest surety of experiencing the things of God. If we are in alignment like we should be, there is no way the Presence of God will miss us. Again, Holy Spirit is the best instructor for alignment. Ask Him to show you how to move to the right or to the left in all the areas of your life.

Obedience in the little things brings us into greater alignment with Him. It gets us in position to catch His wind when He breathes. This enables us to soar! Then we will mount up on eagle's wings! To do this we must live in a place of doing what we hear the Holy Spirit saying and as He reveals to us what Father is doing. When we are obedient in the surrendered lifestyle we are getting ourselves aligned and prepared for the next wind of the Holy Spirit. This will allow us to rest since we won’t have to do all the climbing ourselves. This allows us to soar where we haven't soared before! The Psalmist tells us we will go from strength to strength. ( see Psalm 84:7) One of the Hebrew definitions of the word for "wind" is "to receive impartation of war-like energy.”

For most of us it will be like a new walk. When Jesus called the disciples they had to leave jobs, family, dreams and familiar surroundings. It may sound like it was a hard thing for them. I don’t think so. I think it was an easy choice to leave everything to follow Jesus. When many were leaving Jesus, He asked the remaining ones if they were going to leave also. Their answer was, “Where else can we go? You have the words of life.” (see John 6:68) There was so much life in His words. There were things each day that may have been difficult for them to understand. He talked often of death and the cross. This was hard for them to understand. But, whatever confusion there was could not overpower the fulfillment they found in following Him. He offered them so much life that everything they gave up paled in comparison to what they were receiving. When we choose to walk the higher places and leave the lowlands, the view will outweigh any regret. The new things will have eternal significance and we will be glad we made the change. The view from the eagle’s eye is awesome.

Childhood in the Appalachian Mountains

I was born on April 4^th, 1957 deep in the mountains of Appalachia. Clinch

Mountain was the name of the mountain range I looked at each day. It was a tall mountain that faced our little four-room mountain house. As soon as I was old enough I climbed to the top of the mountain and did so at least once a year. My dad owned a couple hundred acres of this mountain land that lay right behind a little white country Methodist Church. There was a saw mill up in the mountains and as a small child I remember how we would travel up there to watch them cut the wood. There was an old logging road that went almost to the top of the mountain.

As I grew a little older, I spent a lot of summer days with my dad in the mountains spraying brush killer on briars and shrubs. This was a continual job each summer to keep the pasture lands clean. The smell of mountain flowers in the early morning was sweet. There were countless wild roses along little creeks that ran out of the mountains. I carried my smaller sprayer while my dad had a big one that went on his back. We would go our different directions and return every hour or so to the main barrel to refill. Even in these times I was really able to connect with God in a way that most of my friends had never experienced. I learned to have conversations with Him.

My first real conversations with God began in the summer of 69. I was 12 that summer and one of my older friends told me I needed to give my life to God. He said this would save me from the fire. My childhood sweetheart had just been saved from a house fire. She lived right beside the little Methodist Church. As her house was burning, her mother sat her and her little brother on the steps of the church and went back to get her younger sister. She had to break the window to get her out. I remember walking up there afterwards and seeing her little doll there in the charred remains of the house. So, I definitely wanted to be saved from the fire.

I began walking to church on Sunday mornings after a couple of invitations. It was about a-half-a-mile walk. A neighbor lady had kept inviting me. Then one day the pastor stopped and invited my brother and me to come to Sunday School. We were busy playing in the creek near the road when he pulled over and started talking to us. Lots of my summer days were spent looking for crawdads and building little dams in the creek. There was a sense of accomplishment to look at the nice rock dam backing the water up and allowing us to have a small swimming hole. Then a storm would come along and wash the dam away. But, that never seemed to matter. It was a joy to have the swimming hole for a day. It was during one of these purposeful days that the pastor invited us to come to church. His name was Richard Hale. Our family didn’t go to church but everyone in the community liked Pastor Hale. He was young and he was a good speaker. It bothered everyone when he was moved after a few years. The new pastor was Claude Grace. So, it was a common joke that we had traded Hale for Grace. But, the people didn’t like Pastor Grace as well. He was older and slower.

It just so happened that there was a revival going on in the little Methodist Church in the summer of 69. Although I had only been going on Sunday mornings, I decided to go to some night services. My only problem seemed to be that I was afraid of the dark. There was a little country store owned by my Uncle Russell between my house and the church. My dad went there every night and sat on a big log beside the store building and talked with the other farmers for hours. Most nights there were around twenty farmers there and my dad was usually the last one to leave. I would sit there with him, and I remember as the night got cooler I would pull my arms inside my shirt making me look like I didn’t have any arms. This was my method of staying warm as I patiently waited for the conversations to end and we would start the walk up the hill to the house. My plan was to go to the revival and I hoped my dad would still be waiting at the store so I wouldn’t have to walk up the hill by myself. He must have sensed my fears because one of the nights he waited on me although the other farmers must have decided to turn in early.

On Tuesday night the visiting minister spoke about the woman who had been sick for twelve years and reached out and touched the hem of Jesus’ garment. The invitation was for anyone who wanted to touch Jesus. If this was our desire we were asked to come forward. I was the first to step out. I remember four things about that night. I had on a pair of penny loafers that had come apart at the toe but if I held my toe just right no one could tell they had come apart. When I went to the altar I didn’t know what to say so the minister told me to just talk to God and then he prayed with me. There was an older lady who came over beside me and she was crying really hard as she gave her life to God. This kind of distracted me, but I was alright. The most important thing I remember about that night was that I felt brand new. The next morning everything looked new. I was filled with excitement. I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I went with some of my friends to spray thistles on their farm down the road. Wow, did I feel good!

Not everyone felt my enthusiasm. I told my cousins I had been saved. They were preacher’s kids so they informed me that “that” didn’t mean I was going to heaven. They said I had to live a good life. I wasn’t real sure what that was. That was the beginning of many long years of trying to please God. With each mistake I felt I had to be saved again. I wore the hills out making rock altars and places to go and rededicate my life to God. Reaching puberty about the same time was a collision course that kept colliding.

After a couple of years, I decided that baptism would take all the wrong desires out of my heart. Pastor Grace wanted me to be baptized. I avoided him sometimes because he kept asking me when I was going to be baptized. Finally I went to the River knowing my days of struggle would end when I came out of the water. The struggles didn’t end. I was always thinking about sex. The two things I thought about most were God and sex and these two were a million miles apart in my thinking. The next few years were filled with overwhelming guilt.

Soon after that, I began leading youth meetings. I had a strong passion to lead but I had a big handicap. My voice was really weak at 14. When I was born my mother suffered from post-natal depression. I was the sixth child and was born when she was older. She hadn’t wanted another child. Her reaction to all of this was to demand silence. Our house was a house of silence. For example, if my dad and I wanted to talk we had to go out to the truck and sit and talk. When my mother wanted something she would point or make motions to convey to me what she wanted. A stomp on the bottom step of the stairs meant it was time for me to awake and get ready for school. There were very few conversations with my mother in childhood. This resulted in my voice struggling to develop. I talked with my friends and dad but my voice was weak. Sometimes I would try to say something and nothing would come out. In my speech class I was allowed to write my speech because of the weakness of my voice. I remember the embarrassment during some of my classes – how when I would read the entire class would laugh.

Another Pastor came to the little Methodist Church named Fred Morgan. His wife Nell thought the world of me. She didn’t have any children and she gave me so much attention. I was really shy and bashful. I had really bright red hair and I was really skinny. I was scared of people, but I liked her because she seemed to really care for me. She began teaching me how to speak and thereby began the development of a stronger voice to sing and speak. One Sunday night, I sang with a couple of other young people. I remember the song was called, “This is What Heaven Means to Me.” It was a beautiful song and captured the Irish sound of the mountains. My mother was Irish and so were a lot of the people in these mountains. The sound that was coming forth in those days was kind of a sad song mixed with escapism. Everyone seemed miserable and looked forward to Heaven. Songs about Heaven were really popular. The TV station in Bristol had a Telethon each year to help handicapped children. We auditioned for that but didn’t get accepted. My voice was still really weak and sometimes I spent more time swallowing than singing. However, inside of me were a determination and a resolve that I was going to do the most I could in life for God. I would have to overcome some major obstacles, but it was my determination to do so.

By the age of sixteen I was speaking in youth meetings around the area and I was elected the president of the sub-district youth meetings that were held each month in different churches in the region. I was still battling with perfection and couldn’t understand why I couldn’t overcome carnal desires. Near the end of my high school years I decided to just be bad for a while and see if I could just get it out of me. I drank a little and went to a rock concert. That was the extent of the bad-boy times. In the summer of 75 at the age of eighteen I went back to the altar in the little Methodist Church and re-dedicated my life to Christ. A couple of months later I announced my call to ministry and I began speaking regularly. A year later I was doing interim pastoral work for some small churches and within three years I was at my first Methodist Pastorate in Cleveland, Virginia.

How would a 21 year-old pastor a church? I wasn't sure. Cleveland is deep in the Appalachian Mountains. The mountains are big and the town is low in the valley with a river running through it. It has a railroad. It was a coal-mining town. When I got there in the early 80’s it was almost a ghost town. But, for a young minister ready to have the world for breakfast it was a joy to begin the work. Visiting the homes and listening to the older people talk of life in the mountains was priceless. They talked of the ministers who couldn’t read or write well but their passion built the churches scattered throughout the mountains. It was my privilege to minister to the children of the mountain preachers who founded the churches. What an honor. They were proud of their heritage and they were ready for new growth. Soon, the little Cleveland Methodist Church was bustling with new energy. A good-sized choir was put together and the attendance doubled. Youth were coming and excitement was in the air. The first river baptism the congregation had seen in years happened on a sunny summer afternoon. Life was sweet.