After two weeks on the road with The Gospel Echoes on their Spring Banquet Fund Raising Tour, where I was the speaker (they have enough singers), I will share one of the stories I told every night on the tour. If you’ve heard it, you probably attended one of the banquets, or you have read my book, Showing Up. (this story is on page 88.)

In the Kentucky State Reformatory in 1999, I saw a man with a dirty makeshift two inch strip of cloth across his face, tied ear to ear, sort of like eyeglasses. I was trying not to stare at him when it dawned on me that he wouldn’t notice anyway. As I looked closer, his face didn’t seem to have a normal shape. I then noticed that he didn’t have any eyes or nose! Volunteer Sandy Fatow talked to him. She asked him what happened. “I got shot in the face with a shotgun,” he said. Sandy has been in prison work for years. She asked him, “Were you on your way to church when this happened?” The man laughed. I did, too. Sandy then led him through The Four Spiritual Laws and asked him if he would like to commit his life to Jesus. After a pause, he replied, “Naw, I don’t think so.” When Sandy asked him why, he replied, “I’m just not ready to give it all up.”

That reminded me of Frank Constantino, who got the same answer from an inmate in Florida several years ago. He went into the solitary confinement unit (the “hole”) at a maximum security prison. The hallway between two rows of cells was littered with human waste (sewage), garbage, vomit, food scraps, paper plates, empty cups… The smell of sewage and garbage was enough to choke him. He walked down the hall looking into the cells. The first inmate was under his covers and didn’t move. The second man pulled his blanket up over his head. At the third or fourth cell a man was sitting on his bunk, looking at Frank.

“How ya doing?” Frank asked.
 “Not so good.” he responded. 
“Why don’t you give your life to Christ?”

The inmate, Bill, cussing and yelling, said, “Don’t give me that religious !@#*@…”
So Frank changed his approach. “Do you have a sister?”


“WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW IF I HAVE A SISTER?!”


“I just want to know,” Frank said.
“Yeah, I got a sister.”


“What would you tell her if she wrote you a letter and told you that she is dating a man just like you?”

“She better not date someone like me. I’ll bust his head. I’ll slap some sense into her…” Bill said.

“You got a brother?”


“Yeah.”


“What if he wrote you a letter and said, ‘Bill, I want to be just like you.’”


“He knows better than that. He’d better not grow up to be like me. Look where I am!”


“Looks like you’re not satisfied with the way your life has turned out, Bill. Why don’t you consider committing your life to Jesus Christ?”


“You know,” Bill said, now getting serious, “you’re probably right. Maybe I should… But…” Bill paused. “I’m just not ready to give it all up.”


Frank looked around the filty, satanic grafitti on the walls, written in human blood and human excrement; the garbage and sewage on the floor; the maggots and vermin that were moving in the water at his feet… Then he looked up at Bill and said, “You know, Bill, you have point…” He waved his arm at the walls and floor and the maggots and the sewage. “Who would want to give this up?!”

Sound ridiculous? It ought to, because it is. And yet, that was me. I was outwardly fine. Well respected, working a good job, “behaving” myself… But I was clinging to things that in reality were garbage and sewage. Wood, hay and stubble. I was not ready to “give it all up.” When I finally did “give it all up,” the words of the hymn became real to me, “And the things of this world will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.”

Suggestion: Give it all up!

A local Holmes County man and his 4 year old son died tragically this week in a father/son fishing/boating accident. What a tragedy! I didn’t know them, but I know some of the family. A preacher of one the family members asked me about the details of a drowning story I wrote about in my book, Showing Up.

Here is the story as told by Rev. David Terhune of Marion, Indiana:
I was on my way up the elevator to the fifth floor jail chapel wondering what I was going to speak about. Chaplain Brady had just called me an hour ago to fill in for a preacher who cancelled. 

I thought of a tragedy that happened here in Marion County twenty years ago. Four children had been playing near a lake the week before Christmas (that’s why I thought of this story- today was Dec. 21). Their mother had warned them not to go out on the ice because it had not been cold enough, but as children do, they wandered out on the ice and one of them broke through. His brother tried to rescue him, but he broke through the ice, as did his sister. The only one left on the shore was the 7 year old brother who ran for help. By the time the rescuers got there, all three children had drowned. I officiated the saddest funeral of my life; three children, all from one family, the day before Christmas. If only they had heeded their mother’s warning.

So, I told that story to the inmates at that chapel and then admonished them: “You are in trouble now because you did not heed the warnings. When are you going to listen? It’s too late for those children, but it’s not too late for you. You can still be rescued. Come to Jesus.” 

Ten or so of them raised their hands to make commitments. When the chapel was over, everyone left exept one prisoner who stayed seated on the back row with his head down, weeping. The guards were nudging him, but he continued to weep. The officer gave me a look that said, “Come tell this man to go, or we will.”

I went over and sat next to him.

“Are you the man who preached the funeral for those poor little children twenty years ago?” he asked.

“Yes, I am.”

He raised his head for the first time and looked at me.

“I was that 7 year old boy,” he said.

By now I was weeping, the guards were weeping. One officer went over and looked out the window so it wouldn’t be noticed that he was weeping.

I asked the boy, “What are you doing in here?” He said, “I got picked up for speeding. The officer ran a background check and said there is a warrant out for my arrest for failure to pay child support. I knew it was a mistake because I have no children. I’m not married. But now I see that God wanted me to be here to hear a message from the man who preached at my brothers’ and sister’s funeral. It was not a mistake.

Does this mean that I will get to see them again if I commit my life to Jesus?”

“Yes, you will see them again if you follow Jesus,” I said.

Rev. Terhune concludes: Now I understand why God would have a volunteer cancel; why Chaplain Brady thought to call me; why a mistake in the police computer system held an innocent man in jail; why this twenty year old tragedy came to my mind as I came up the elevator… God orchestrated all of these events to create a divine appointment to heal a wounded little boy’s heart who has felt guilty and grief for 20 years for a tragedy that was not his fault.

AND! God give him eternal life.

Coincidence? No. Divine appointment.

At the risk of repeating myself (I may have told this story before), I want to retell a story that I thought had to be false, but I’ve checked it out. It’s true.

Here’s the story:
A man stood at the L’Enfant Plaza Metro (subway) entrance in Washington, DC playing his violin. It was a cold January day. He played six classical pieces for about 45 minutes- two Bach pieces, one Massenet and one each from Schurbert and Ponce. It was rush hour, so over a thousand people went through the building on their way to work. About three minutes after he started playing a middle aged man heard the music, slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried on to his work. A minute later the violinist received his first dollar tip. A woman tossed the money into his open violin case as she walked by. A few minutes later a man leaned against the wall to listen to him for a minute or two, looked at his watch and walked away.

The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy who stopped to listen while his mother held his hand. Finally the mother started walking, tugging the boy along. He went with her as he kept turning his head and watching the violinist while being escorted away. This action was repeated several times by other children.

In the 45 minutes that the musician played, six people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money as they continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32.17 plus a $20 bill from someone who seemed to recognize him. $52.17 total! When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed. No one applauded. There was no recognition or thanks.

Who was this metro subway musician? His name is Joshua Bell, one of the most acclaimed classical violinists in the world. He was playing a Stradivarius violin, made in 1713, worth several million dollars. Two nights earlier he played the same repertoire to a sold out theater in Boston to folks who paid more than $100 per seat and he received thuderous applause and appreciation.

Columnist Gene Weingarten of The Washington Post initiated this experiment. Bell wore a baseball cap and played incognito as his performance was videotaped on a hidden camera. They wanted to see how beautiful music would affect people in their daily routine.

Their conclusion: the world is too busy, too preoccupied, too uncurious, or simply disinterested to stop and enjoy the best that classical music has to offer. One of the finest violinists in the world playing the finest classical music in the world on possibly the finest violin in the world! As the world walked by.
Weingarten won the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for his article on this experiment. The Washington Post posted the video on YouTube and it was entititled: Find Your Way: A Busker’s Documentary. It went viral.

So many take aways! What was learned? Several observations:
-If we don’t have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written on one of the best musical instrumenst ever made, how many other things are we missing?!

• If you don’t have a “name,” people don’t expect much. At a Johnny Cash concert in Dover in 1995, I listened politely, impatiently to the “warm up” band. They stopped, Johnny Cash’s band came on stage and at the sound of the first three notes of Bob Wooten’s guitar, the crowd was on their feet. The performer had a name. Anticipation was high. I guess we get want we expect?
  
• How an artist is introduced is very important. I was once asked by an MC how I would like to be introduced. “Do you want my humble intro, or my boastful introduction?” I asked him jokingly. “The boastful one!” he demanded. So, I told him who all I had been on stage with and where I had performed, etc. and he got up and gave me a flowery (albeit truthful) introduction. I could feel the anticipation when I got up on stage

• Atmosphere matters. Presentation counts. There is a reason Joshua Bell does not wear a baseball cap and a T shirt when he performs at Carnegie Hall. Maybe it wasn’t totally the commuter’s fault that they missed greatness.

“Friend, how did you get in here without wedding clothes?” The man was speechless. -Matt. 22:11

The thief on the cross was just several feet from the Savior and yet he missed Him. 
Don’t miss the beauty around you. Don’t miss the Savior!

“There is nothing good in war, except its ending.” -Abraham Lincoln

‘The welfare of the people in particular has always been the alibi of tyrants.”-Albert Camus

In 1943 Charles L. Brown was flying a B-17 bomber over Bremen, Germany to bomb the Focke-Wulf aircraft production facility. This factory was guarded by more than 250 flak anti aircraft guns. Brown’s B-17 began its ten minute bomb run at 27,300 ft. with an outside temperature of 76 degrees below zero when his plexiglas nose was hit and engine #2 was damaged. He was forced to drop out of formation, which made him an easy target for the German gunners below.

A dozen enemy fighters began shooting at him. The bomber’s internal oxygen, hydraulic and electrical systems were damaged. Several of the gunner’s weapons were jammed, leading to frozen firing mechanisms. Many of the crew were wounded. The tail gunner was killed by a shot from the ground; another crew member was critically wounded and another’s feet were frozen.

When the damaged plane was spotted by Germans on the ground, one of them, Franz Stigler, an “Ace” with 27 victories, took off in his Messerschmitt Bf 109 and quickly caught up to Brown’s plane. As he flew beside the American plane to complete kill number 28, he could see the injured and incapacitated crew through the damaged and open airframe.

To the Brown’s surprise, the German did not open fire on his cripple bomber. Stigler had recalled the words of his German commanding officer: “If I ever see you shooting at a man in parachue, I will shoot you myself!” Stigler later said that this was the same as if they were in a parachute. “I saw them, helpless, and I just couldn’t shoot them down.”

Stigler flew close beside the American plane so his fellow Germans on the ground would not fire and he escorted the damaged B-17 across German territory until it was over open water. Stigler then saluted Brown and departed.

Brown was able to land his plane safely in England. In the debriefing he told the officers that a German pilot had let him go and helped him escape. He was told not to repeat this story, lest other pilots get positive sentiments about Germans. Stigler said nothing of the incident to his commanding officers, knowing that it would lead to a court martial. After the war, Brown returned to his home in West Virginia. Stigler went home to Germany. In 1953 he moved to Canada.

Forty three years later (in 1986) Brown wondered if he could find this unknown German pilot. He searched for four years. Then he wrote a letter to a Combat Pilot Association newsletter. A few months later he received a letter from Stigler. “I was the one!” he wrote. When they spoke on the phone, Stigler described his plane, the escort and the salute. He was indeed that German pilot!

Between 1990 and 2008, Charles Brown and Franz Stigler became close friends and remained so until their deaths within several months of each other in 2008. In 1993, Stigler was presented the “Star of Peace” by the Combatants Federation of Europe. In 2008, at Brown’s request, crew members of the American B-17 were each awarded the Silver Star. Brown himself was awarded the Air Force Cross. The incident was the subject of a novel by Adam Makos, A Higher Call, and the Swedish heavy metal band, Sabaton, wrote a song about it, “No Bullets Fly.”

This story reminds me of the Christmas Truce of 1914 when Italians, British and French soldiers saw a white flag in the German trenches on Christmas Eve and came out into No Man’s Land to trade mementos, visit and even play a game of soccer.

As evil as the heart of man is, there is something inside us that longs for peace; for friendship; for fellowship. That longing was put there by God.

“War is Hell.” -William Tecumseh Sherman

“…my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives…” -Jesus

“Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless
and widows [and friends -my addendum] in their affliction…” -James 1:27

December 20 Lydia and I went to visit an 89 year old friend that I have known all my life, but I hadn’t seen him for many years. He worked for my dad for 40 some years. I worked with him many times. I learned much of the plumbing trade from him. I can’t remember a time that I did not know him. He was in a wheelchair in his home. We surprised him, but he was alert and happy to see us. He welcomed us into his home. We talked old times and former friends and old work sites and jobs for a half hour or so and then left. Two weeks later he died unexpectantly.

On Jan 4 I was honored to be invited to the Nelson Coblentz family celebration of their father Emanuel’s 98th birthday celebration. A joyous family time of talking, laughing, story telling and singing. One week later Emanuel died. I guess at 98 years old, it was not totally unexpected.

On January 16 I called a distant cousin to ask about some family genealogy. He wasn’t feeling good and told me he had a Dr. appointment the next day. He died that night, 5 hours later!

I began to think I should not call or visit anybody! Maybe I am the reason they are dying.

Well, of course that is not true. An 89 year old man, a 98 year old and a sick cousin… it was God’s time for each of them. But it got me to thinking: I was so glad I had visited or called each one. We never know when it might be the last time we see or talk to someone.

So… I said all that to say this: We flew to Sarasota for a weekend to attend the birthday party of a friend. Three days in a place 1100 miles away. Last minute expensive plane tickets. For a three hour party! Why would a responsible person do something that foolish? Crazy!

We had been invited by his wife a month ago, but we told her that we would not be able to attend. We were not going to be in Sarasota this year until mid February. Then last Tuesday morning at a Bible study and friend asked,
“Are you going ot Dan’s birthday party?”
“Dan who?”
“Dan Miller.”
I had forgotten all about it. Since I wasn’t going, I had put it out of my mind. But the more I thought about it, the more I think my subconscience mind was saying, “Go. The time is right. Life is short…”

I looked at my calendar. It was clear. I came home and told Lydia,
“Let’s go to Dan’s birthday party and surprise him.”
“You’re crazy!” is basically what she said.
“What’s that got to do with it?” I asked. (She knew I was crazy when she married me.)

Well, we went. I would have gone by myself, but it was Lydia’s birthday also and I didn’t want to abandon her on her special day. So, we both went.

When I told a classmate what I was planning to do, he said, “Seize the moment. Go for it. Or as your book says, ‘Show Up.’ Have a safe trip.”

It was not a smart move finacially. It could be called irresponsible. It didn’t fit our schedule…

-Last minute tickets: way too expensive.
-Hotels: We stayed with friends.
-Meals: Fairly expensive.
-Parking at the airport: $45.00
-Office time lost: I’m way behind.

-The look on our friend’s face (and his wife’s) when we arrived; PRICELESS!

While studying John chapter 7, I was made aware of the battle that goes on for power, whether it be in government, in the family, in the military, in an organization, in the local garden club or in the church; whether it’s 30 A.D or 2024; whether it’s Jerusalem or China or Benton, Ohio. The heart of man hasn’t changed much since the Garden of Eden. I have seen conflicts that ended up in hurt feelings, church splits, family splits, business failures, civil wars…

As bad as conflict is, it seems to me that it is always worse when it’s in the church, where we are to be of one accord; to love one another; to resolve conflict. In John 7, I saw how far the Pharisees and other Jewish leaders were willing to go to keep hold of their power.

“Jesus purposely stayed away from Judea because the Jews were wanting to take His life (!).”

Take His life?! You mean, not just get Him transferred or fired or demoted or run out of town? But, Murdered!? And these are not military men or the mafia or foreign terrorists. These are the church leaders!! They are looking for the Messiah! And Jesus is the Messiah!! He is the One they and all of Israel (and the world) has been waiting for!

“…the Pharisees went out and plotted how they might kill Jesus.” (Matt. 12:14) The chief priests and Pharisees sent the temple guards to arrest Him. When the guards came back without Jesus, they were asked, “Why didn’t you bring Him in?” Their response: “No one ever spoke like this Man does.” At this the leaders asked (accused) them, “You mean He has deceived you also? Have any of the rulers or of the Pharisees believed in Him? No! But this mob that knows nothing of the law- there is a curse on them.”

I think it’s kind of interesting when the leaders of the faith brag about their unbelief and then they accuse those who do believe of being cursed! (Note the irony: John 3:36)

The common people were unaware of the plot against Jesus, because when He asked, “Why are you trying to kill me?” the people thought He must be demon possessed. (“Who is trying to kill you?”) They didn’t seem to know how serious (evil?) the Jewish leaders were.

The one leader who was rational and honest was Nicodemus. He was ridiculed when he asked if the Jewish law condemns a person without a hearing. (It doesn’t.)

This is the same Nicodemus who came to Jesus by night. And I think Nicodemus put his trust in the Lord that night. He, a Pharisee, defended Jesus. And they ridiculed Him for it, “Are you from Galilee also?” That was meant to be an insult to Nicodemus. Like city folk making fun of country hicks. “Check it out. You will see that a prophet does not come out of Galilee,” they said. Actually, the prophets Jonah, Nahum, and perhaps Elijah, Elisha and Amos were from Galilee. Hatred, greed, jealousy and fear of losing power will blind your reasoning.

After finishing this study of the seventh chapter, I was drawn to the last verse (33). Maybe because it was Christmastime and I had been thinking about no room in the Inn.

“Then every man went to his own home.” No one invited Jesus into his house. It was a feast night and Jesus was by Himself on the Mount of Olives. Everyone was celebrating the Feast of Tabernacles. Jesus was alone. No one made room for Him. No one invited Him in.

How about you (and me)? Do we go to our own house and leave Jesus out in the cold? Or have we accepted His wonderful invitation so that we live in the love and light of His presence?
Make room for Jesus. Invite Him in.

“Let every heart prepare Him room, and Heaven and nature [will] sing.”

“…I was a fighter pilot, and he was just a sailor.”

The day before Thanksgiving in 2021, my brother Steve texted me: “Fifty years ago today a TV station called me and asked, ‘Can a man jump out of an airplane and the pilot not know it?’”

“Who is this?!” brother Steve asked.

He had just returned from Viet Nam and was packing parachutes for the 101st Airborne in San Francisco. It seems a man had hijacked a plane and jumped out with $200,000. The TV newsman wanted an “expert’s” advise. The hijacker was known as D.B. Cooper and he has never been found. It’s the only unsolved aviation case in American history.

Maybe that’s why this true story grabbed my attention: Charles Plumb was a US Navy jet pilot in Vietnam. After 75 combat missions, his plane was shot down by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now lectures on lessons learned from that experience.

One day Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant and a man at another table came up and said, “You’re Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!”
“How in the world did you know that?” asked Plumb
“I packed your parachute,” the man replied
Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, “I guess it worked!”“It sure did. If your chute hadn’t worked, I wouldn’t be here today.”

Plumb couldn’t sleep that night, thinking about that man. “I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have passed him on the ship and not even said ‘Good morning, how are you?’ or anything, because, you see, I was a fighter pilot, and he was just a sailor.”

Plumb thought of the man-hours that sailor had spent on a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship, carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute, holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn’t know.

Today Plumb asks his audience, “Who’s packing your parachute?” Everyone has someone who provides what he needs to make it through the day. Plumb also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes when his plane was shot down over enemy territory.
He needed his -physical parachute, 
 -his mental parachute,
-his emotional parachute
-and his spiritual parachute.
He called on all these supports before reaching safety.

Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what is really important.

We may fail to say “hello,” “please,” or “thank you,” congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to them, give a compliment or just do something nice for no reason. As you go through this week, this month, this year, recognize people who pack your parachute.

So… to all of my parachute packers:

THANK YOU & MERRY CHRISTMAS!

At a church picnic in mid August I was told that an old family friend was not healthy. This man and his family had farmed the land back our lane east of Moreland when I was a boy. The next Sunday I went to visit him. He was not home, but what I want to report is not about the health of my friend, but the state of my home town… uh… ‘home village’ of Moreland.

I drove east on County Road 77, now called Moreland Road, and I mentally named every family as I went past their farms and homes: Franklin School, Hoy, Ackerman, Schmid (us) Kaufman, Baker, Clark, White, Hoffman, Beegle, Bricker, Leeper…  In my mind I could see the people as I drove by. I was their paper boy and hired hand. I made hay on every field on that mile long road. I helped milk their cows and plow their fields. I could tell you what tractors they owned and what make (and year?) of pickup truck they drove.

About half way between Franklin School (my alma mater) and the Moreland Church, I started to realize: They’re all gone! Not one of the old neighbors in that mile stretch of “my” old road is still living! Only two of the farms are still in the same family: the Bakers and Whites. The second and third generations of Bakers and Whites are now living on those properties. All the other farms are owned by “newcomers.”

And wouldn’t you know? The next day my friend, Milt Helmuth (Illinois), sent a thought by a man named “Anon” that was exactly what I was muling over in my mind. Here it is:

In 100 years (2123 AD) we will all be buried with our relatives and friends. Strangers will live in the homes that we fought so hard to build and pay off. They will own everything we have today. All of our possessions will be gone: our homes, our land, our bank accounts, even our children. Our beautiful car will be scrap or in the museum of a collector.

Our descendants will hardly know who we were, nor will they remember us. (How many of us know our grandfather’s father?) After we die, we will be remembered for a few more years, then we are just a portrait on someone’s bookshelf, and a few years later our photos, deeds, activities and our stories will disappear in history’s oblivion. We won’t even be memories.

If we paused one day to analyze these thoughts, perhaps we would understand how ignorant and weak the dream to achieve it all was. If we could only think about this, surely our approaches and our thoughts would change, we would be different people. Are we always wanting more? Have we no time for what’s really valuable in this life…?

If I could, I would change all this to live and enjoy the walks I’ve never taken, the hugs I didn‘t give, those kisses for our children and our loved ones, the conversations we didn’t have time for. Those would certainly be the most beautiful moments to remember. After all, that’s what fills our lives with joy.  And here we are, wasting it day after day with busyness, worry, anxiousness, desire for more… We are missing what really matters.

This article from Milt sure hit home after the “Moreland Reminder” of how brief life is and how things change and what is really important in life.

Folks, life is short! Make every day count.

“What is your life? It is a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away.” -James 4:14         “Today is the day of salvation.” -2 Cor. 6:2
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever(!).” –Hebrews 13:8 

Only one life and soon ‘tis past. Only what’s done for Christ will last.

I left Washington D.C. on July 21 and started cycling on the C&O Towpath. The Chesapeake and Ohio Canal starts in D.C. and goes to Cumberland, MD. It has been dufunct since 1924, but the towpath has been restored as a bicycle/hiking path from D.C. to Cumberland, MD. From Cumberland to Pittsburgh it’s the old P & LE RR (Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Rail Road). The old RR bed has been restored into a bicycle  trail.  333 miles total. I biked it in six days and then Lydia picked me up in Pittsburgh. A great time of refreshing, praying, clearing my head, exercise… and even some ministry along the way: a church service near Needmore, PA and several divine appointments along the trail. (See my FB for daily diary.)

After six days of almost 60 miles of biking a day, we took a trip out west to visit family and for six days I just sat around, eating and talking! :-/  Now I’m “back in the saddle again” in my office.

I was just in Washington, DC and I’m a musician, so allow me to share this unrelated true story:

In Washington DC, at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, a man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

After about four minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule. At about eight minutes, the violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and without stopping, continued to walk. At six minutes, a young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again. At ten minutes, a three-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent – without exception – forced their children to move on quickly.  For forty-five minutes the musician played continuously. Only six people stopped and listened for a short while. About twenty gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected $32. After one hour he finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all. He put his violin in the case.

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played some of the most intricate pieces ever written while playing a 300 year old Stradivarius violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell played to a sold-out a theater in Boston where people paid $100 a seat to hear him play the same music.

This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people’s priorities.

This experiment raised several questions: In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? If so, do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made… How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?

                                     “What I to you, I say to everyone: Watch!” -Jesus

“I will always remind you of these things, even though you know them and are firmly established in the truth you now have. I think it is right to refresh your memory… I will make every effort to see… that you remember these things.”I Peter 1:12f

Memory. Most of my life I have been blessed with a good memory. And most of my memories are good. I grew up in the ‘50’s when America was the “land of the free and the home of the brave.” Almost every friend my age grew up in a two parent home. Close to half of my class were from farm families. There were chores before and after school.

In my grade school of about 200 students, I can remember only one student in all eight grades who was from a divorced home. He was an anomaly in our community and in our era.

We had Bible reading and prayer every morning. In a public school!

I walked a quarter mile to the school. We lived half way back a half mile long lane just west of the school. It was a quarter mile to the road to catch the bus or a quarter mile through the fields to the school. Everyone of our teachers was from the community. Our fifth grade teacher, Virgil Yoder, lived the fartherest from the school: 5 miles! They all knew my family and we knew the teachers’ families. My eighth grade teacher taught my dad AND my grandfather! I was a third generation student for her.

Franklin Twp. School was closed by the Triway district two years ago and is now called Willing Hearts Workshop, a school for Amish Handicapped children. I went to their fund raiser on June 3, mainly to visit my old school. About 1000 people were there scattered among the four big tents with goods and auctioneers to raise funds. I wandered through the old schoolhouse where every room had a memory. The huge new gym is no longer huge and no is longer new. In fact, the whole school house seems to have shrunk.

I left the school auction and drove back the lane to visit my birthplace. No one was home, so I drove on back another quarter mile to the old stone house and the pond where I used to fish and where I learned to swim. No one was there, so I stood there and basked in the memories of my idyllic childhood. The picnics back here; the bass and bluegill we caught in the pond and cooked right there on the bank, or at home; the sled riding, the swimming, the hunting… the time our dog kept barking and running back and forth like Lassie on TV, so we finally followed her and discovered that little brother Steve had wandered off and was stuck in the freezing swamp. Our dog saved Steve’s life! 

We have been off the “farm” (it wasn’t really a farm) for over 50 years, but it is still my “home place.” The first eleven years of my life were there. I reminisced over how God has led me from the little boy who thought that “Bah, Bah Blacksheep” was written about him (“…one for the little boy who lived back the lane.”) to a prison minister/singer who has been to all 50 states and 45 countries and has met some very significant people and friends.

My Saturday jaunt to Franklin Twp. School and then back the lane where I started out was a reminder of how God has blessed me. I have visited countries where the people don’t seem to have a chance. What if I had been born there? Or what if I had been born in the inner city just 60 miles away? Or what if my parents had not been loving and encouraging…?

I thank God for my family, my heritage, my abilities… and that somewhere along the line I had enough sense to quit trying to make it on my own and look to God through Jesus to guide me. He has lead me to the right woman, the right “job” (if you can call it a job), He has given Lydia and me good children… I am blessed!

Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth.  I remember my youth and thank my Creator!