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Tomorrow on earth is not guaranteed. Eternity is!
“Look here, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year. We will do business there and make a profit.” How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.” James 4:13-14 (NLT)
I recently attended the funeral of my last aunt, who lived three weeks shy of her 101st birthday. It was so wonderful to celebrate her amazing life and more importantly, her life eternal. She was a Believer in Jesus. She knew eternity awaited. She knew her rewards were stored up for her in Heaven. She knew the words, “well done thou good and faithful servant” would be proclaimed during the incredible homecoming celebration that greeted her.
I learned that her secret to a long life was a Mt. Dew each morning. Hmm, I may need to back off on my comments about this caffeine laced drink to our kids.
As I sat in a room full of people coming to honor this amazing lady’s life, the scriptures that say tomorrow is not guaranteed and eternal life awaits resonated in my head. I considered that my aunt had lived a century, slightly less that 5% of the time that has passed since Jesus died and rose again. She had lived 1% of 10,000 years. She was known to God before time began. She entered into eternity where every trial, trouble, difficulty and sadness in her life on earth were immediately made clear in their purpose and most importantly, in their insignificance compared to the eternal life she arrived into as she shed that worn out body and broken world where she had shepherded so well.
I have recently read about people dying who lived lives on earth that seemed to be contrary to a life surrendered and committed to Jesus. I read statements like “RIP” and “see you on the other side.” I then cannot help but know that eternity does await each of us. Either an eternity in the presence of the Creator of all joy, love, promise, peace given to those of us who choose God because of his Son’s death and resurrection. Or, an eternity separated from God, from joy, from love, from promise, from peace. An eternity in Hell is described as eternal darkness, weeping and gnashing of teeth, fire and brimstone, where the worm does not die and the fire not quenched. The best description of Hell that I have recently heard is ‘the eternal separation from God and all hope.’ There is no RIP in Hell!
Eternity is guaranteed and the choice is ours. God has provided a pathway to eternity with him through salvation. Those who have died apart from God are not resting in peace. My prayer is that you do not see them on the other side. My hope is that you have hope assured through a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. This relationship is the only path to life eternal.
So, I take comfort and joy knowing that my last earthly living aunt now lives for eternity in the inconceivable beauty and joy that is Heaven. I know that one day many in her family will join her, as will my family. Heaven or Hell awaits. Please choose wisely.
“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:18 (NIV)
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You Are Beautiful
“For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.” Ephesians 2:10 (NLT)
I don’t have the picture of the caterpillar that became this butterfly but can tell you it was ugly and looked like a cartoon character. What I will tell you is that in a world that often makes us feel small and ugly, God sees his masterpiece that he created before time existed.
You are beautiful to the Creator of beauty. You matter to the One who invented matter. You have purpose to the Father who sacrificed his Son so your purpose can be fulfilled. You are loved by the God of Agape love…too deep, wide and lasting to understand.
You are beautiful and your beauty shines to those around you. Walk boldly my sister or brother in Christ in the knowledge that you are the daughter or son of the King of all Kings.
You matter.
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He sat in the truck!
Hunting in Appalachian Kentucky was a survival event in those early decades, through the Great Depression and beyond. I have heard tales of hunger causing my family to kill and eat just about any animal. My white grandpa (my dad’s father, who lived in the white house), would eat just about anything. If I killed a groundhog, he would want to eat it. No longer because he was starving but because of the sweet memories that tough times can deliver if we allow it.
“Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days.” Job 12:12 (ESV
By the time I came along, hunting was a social event that I loved to be a part of. Primarily because of the camaraderie, the stories and the non-stop laughter.
During one particular trip to visit my grandparents, my green grandpa was going rabbit hunting with two of his brothers. My dad and I were invited to join and you did not have to ask us twice. This hunt was memorable for me because I was allowed to carry a shotgun for the first time. An old, wire-barrel 16 gauge sing-shot, shotgun. This was a major step into manhood for a city kid from Ohio. I still could not have a shell (bullet) in the chamber! Oh well, a kid can dream.
My grandpa’s oldest brother, Nathan, was hunting with us and while I don’t know how old he was at the time, he was old. How awesome that he was still hunting and still contributing mightily to the stories and laughter that were making up the substance of the hunt. You see, what’s misunderstood by too many people is that hunting is not really about killing, but about socialization, relaxation and appreciation for the outdoors. It’s called ‘hunting’ and not ‘killing’ for a reason. I digress.
As we prepared to head into the fields, following those amazing beagles as they chased the prey of the day, rabbits, I noticed that my Uncle Nathan was still in the pickup truck, with both driver and passenger doors open. When I questioned why, I learned that he could no longer handle the rigors of walking through those briar-filled fields. With great amazement I learned that his brothers loved to hunt with him, so they would bring him and set him up to shoot at any rabbit that the dogs might run by the truck. And the dogs had been trained to run the rabbits by the truck! Awesome!
So, with great amazement I realized that we were there to make an old man’s day by being the drivers of prey to allow him to continue the joy of a lifetime. Hunting rabbits. And as we walked through that field, listening to the baying of those beagle hounds, we heard two shots. As we returned to the truck, there on either side of the truck lay two rabbits who would gift that old man with a 5-star meal that evening.
Maybe the best hunt that I ever participated in. Then and now. I marvel at the honor and respect that this oldest brother was afforded by his brothers. I love that the older generations of my family understood that I needed to experience this. I always remember my dad being with me as a boy hunting and I miss him the most when I am walking to a deer stand today. I did not know my Great Uncle Nathan very well, but I knew he was a respected patriarch of my larger family.
Boy was I blessed to have been born into that family that had nothing. I learned everything from them.
“You shall stand up before the gray head and honor the face of an old man, and you shall fear your God: I am the Lord.” Leviticus 19:32 (ESV)
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The Bus Driver
My mother was a bus driver for 23 years before she left us for Heaven. She loved being a bus driver because she loved children. To parent’s of kindergarteners she was known as the ‘singing bus driver.’ She had this title because she would sing with the kindergartens as she drove them to and from school, making them more calm and to feel more safe.
My dad would tell the story of growing up around Mullins Station (KY) and taking the bus to school as he entered upper grades. This was after he had walked up hills for six miles each way to school as a youngster. I don’t know exactly what year he was in school when this occurred. He said that he rarely remembered making it to school clean in Winter and Spring.
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7 (NIV)
Dad would tell of the kids on the bus getting out and pushing the bus to help it get up those muddy hills and out of ditches when it got stuck. Can you imagine? Can you imagine kids coming home today and telling their parent, “I am dirty today because we had to push the bus to get it unstuck again?” My dad painted a picture of primarily boys finding rocks and logs to place under the wheels to give the bus’s tires some traction and then the boys collectively pushing, mud being thrown everywhere and all over them as those tires desperately spun, trying to free themselves from those Appalachian ruts and hills not made for modern transportation. Chivalry was in full force as the boys tried to take care of the issue so the girls were not dirty all day, but some days the situation called for all hands on deck.
Ready for this? The Bus Driver was one of the kids classmates! Typically a senior, or upper grade student. Like much of what I have marveled at and marvel about those KY hollers was they made do with what they had. Funds were tight. People available to drive the buses scarce. An overriding understanding that the road to overcoming the poverty and situation that kids were growing up in lay in those schools and whatever the requirement, those kids were going to make it to school. Amazing!
“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Philippians 6:8 (NIV)
As my dad would tell of the classmate driving the bus, my mother would shudder with anxiety and amazement. She apparently grew up in the ritzier section of Appalachia called Crooked Creek, where an adult actually drove the bus. There is always someone worse off than you and you are always worse off than someone else. “Worse off” being defined by a World who values differently than Heaven does. The great equalizer is God’s amazing love and unlimited value that he equally places on each of us.
I have read comparisons of buying a car in the 1950’s and the instruction manual would tell the buyer how to rebuild a carburetor and now the manual tells us not to drink the coolant that goes into the radiator. I’ve never verified if that is true, but makes sense. I believe the comparison is made to suggest that we are dumber than we used to be. We’re not, but our focus and learning has moved by the ever changing World we live in. My mother has been gone to Heaven for 25 years and I often think of how things have changed since her passing. She would not know or understand how to order something online and we would have to explain what ‘online’ meant. She would marvel that she could talk with her grandkids and great grandkids while seeing them live on a screen that could be held in her hand. Not dumber, just different times.
So, in those mid and late 1940’s and early 1950’s, America’s kids had saved the World. With this backdrop, asking a “kid” to drive other kids to school just doesn’t seem all that far fetched. Those Appalachian kids became ministers, doctors, teachers, electricians, bus drivers, tobacco farmers, coal miners, moms, dads, beacons of example, hope and a tenacity only found in those hills where poverty existed and promise reigned.
“Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.” Philippians 6:9 (NIV)
You just can’t make this stuff up.
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“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.”
I have posted the story of the song “It is Well” before and in the face of the tragedy that has unfolded in Texas, it seems inadequate yet relevant to post again.
The images of mud splattered pink and purple sleeping bags on bunks scattered by that evil rush of water reminded me of our beautiful daughters whose lives brought these colors into our home. I thought of the love and laughter that these colors delivered. I thought of the expectation for the future that each of these young lives represented to their families and to our family. I thought of the dreams stopped by that wall of water that so insidiously attacked in the dark of night, without warning and with devastating effect.
Then a video was posted of the surviving girls from that camp that sat peacefully beside that river for 100 years, singing and praising God as they were bused to a location to reunite with their families. I thought ‘why Adam did you not hold your hand out and fill Eve’s palm with yours, perhaps showing “what we have is enough,” and preventing the fall that has resulted in unimaginable pain and loss?’ I thought, please Lord compel them to rebuild this camp that has delivered You into the hearts of young girls destined to be leaders, wives, mothers and your representatives in this broken World.
I think of the pain for those temporarily left behind. I choose to believe with all my heart that every one of those beautiful girls achieved Heaven during that flood. I choose the hope that is Jesus Christ. I choose the awareness that God loves each of those girls and each of us with a love so much greater than we can comprehend. I choose the knowledge that the parents and families of those girls will reunite with them one day in Heaven, for eternity. I choose to believe that those left behind now have a far greater life purpose that is their story of survival and promise of Heaven when their time on earth is finished. I choose to believe that out of this incomprehensible loss will come thousands who gain Heaven because of how God’s children dealt with the loss on July 4, 2025.
The Bible verse Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (NIV), is a favorite of many because of God’s promise. For the families of those lost, it is now their hope. This verse reflected what would occur 70 years in the future and was held to day to day through the struggle of loss, relocation and subjugation. For those left behind, the work continues with a greater sense of urgency. To love and care for the families left behind and the spread the news and truth that is hope, salvation and eternal life that only comes through Jesus Christ.
“I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:1 (NIV)
“It is Well”
“The author, Horatio G. Spafford (1828-1888), was a Presbyterian layman from Chicago. He had established a very successful legal practice as a young businessman and was also a devout Christian. Among his close friends were several evangelists including the famous Dwight L. Moody, also from Chicago.
Spafford’s fortune evaporated in the wake of the great Chicago Fire of 1871. Having invested heavily in real estate along Lake Michigan’s shoreline, he lost everything overnight. In a saga reminiscent of Job, his son died a short time before his financial disaster. But the worst was yet to come.
Hymnologist Kenneth Osbeck tells the story: “Desiring a rest for his wife and four daughters as well as wishing to join and assist Moody and [his musician Ira] Sankey in one of their campaigns in Great Britain, Spafford planned a European trip for his family in 1873. In November of that year, due to unexpected last-minute business developments, he had to remain in Chicago, but sent his wife and four daughters on ahead as scheduled on the S.S. Ville du Havre. He expected to follow in a few days.
“On November 22 the ship was struck by the Lochearn, an English vessel, and sank in twelve minutes. Several days later the survivors were finally landed at Cardiff, Wales, and Mrs. Spafford cabled her husband, ‘Saved alone.’”
Spafford left immediately to join his wife. This hymn is said to have been penned as he approached the area of the ocean thought to be where the ship carrying his daughters had sunk.
Another daughter, Bertha, was born in 1878 as well as a son, Horatio, in 1880, though he later died of scarlet fever. After the birth of daughter Grace in 1881, Spafford and his wife moved to Jerusalem out of a deep interest in the Holy Land. There they established the American Colony, a Christian utopian society engaged in philanthropic activities among Jews, Muslims and Christians.
After decades of benevolent activities, the Colony ceased to be a communal society in the 1950s, though it continued in a second life as the American Colony Hotel, the first home of the talks between Palestine and Israel that eventually led to the 1983 Oslo Peace Accords.”
I”When peace like a river attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot Thou hast taught me to say,
“It is well, it is well with my soul!” It is well with my soul!
It is well, it is well with my soul!
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought—
My sin, not in part, but the whole,
Is nailed to His Cross, and I bear it no more;
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live;
If dark hours about me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.”
Father in Heaven, hold those close whose loved ones have gained Heaven.
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There’s a Sweet, Sweet Spirit in those Places
“Some bright morning, when this life is over, I’ll fly away…”
Have you ever been to a place filled with joy, hope, faith and love. A place devoid of all the World says matters? A place where genuine care, brotherhood, sisterhood and family, trumped fleeting pursuits. A place that replaced want and need with acceptance of the very situation where life had placed each person? A safe place that loved the difficulties of life away.
I have.
If you arrive a little late you’ll hear joyful noise filling those little white buildings that dot the landscape of those hills and hollers of Eastern Kentucky. If you’re early and with your grandma, you’ll likely spend the service smelling like the perfume of every sweet mom and grandmother in that little room. Remnants of the many hugs and kisses generously poured out on you. You’ll watch the desperation of a hardscrabble life and temporary situation give way to love, joy and the flooding of the sweet, sweet spirit that is the only hope and life that matters, Jesus. So much Jesus!
I have.
Have you had the privilege of singing Onward Christian Soldiers, where the women and men naturally sing their parts? Have you watched the reverence of a room singing The Old Rugged Cross, acknowledging the Savior’s sacrifice of his life so we can join and worship him for eternity? Have you listened to and considered the beautiful harmony of every person close to your family fill those little rooms with Amazing Grace as they surrender their current situation to the promise of what is to come? Has your heart compelled you to take that step out of your current situation that Just As I Am invites? What a friend we have in Jesus!
I have.
Have you ever witnessed a country preacher get into a cadence of delivery where there is a melodic movement of their words that are entrancing and a little intimidating? Have you giggled uncomfortably with your siblings because of this new type of sermon delivery? Have you heard a good hell, fire and brimstone sermon that is the counter-point to God’s love? A sermon that pleads the fact that Hell is real and when we reject Christ, we are choosing an eternity too terrible to fully comprehend. Have you watched a preacher who feeds his family as a farmer, a coal miner or any other sort of job, transform into God’s voice in the wilderness for those amazing communities? It is something to behold.
I have
You see, those houses of worship were filled with family and friends so close that they were family too. Where worship was a collective, unified noise of the voices who made up the heartbeats of life in that holler. Where the Sunday best dress, was likely hand made, passed down or newer overalls than the ones worn day to day for work. Where sickness brought a flood of food and help and affirmation that no one was alone.
Those little Baptist, Church of God, Pentecostal, Methodist churches were what God designed his Church to be. Centers where the community did life. Where a wall sign updated you about attendance, giving, baptisms. Most of those churches were surrounded by the members who had graduated to Heaven, leaving their physically worn out bodies marked by headstones, to remind those still on earth of their contribution. The grass and shade that protected and invited were pallets for suppers on the ground. Where pie socials were the catalyst for many of the marriages and families. Those buildings were special because they represented hope and promise. They were the source of welcoming and sending off.
I have spent a lot of time in those little churches so giant in their reach and their influence. Can I tell you that these buildings and their members were megachurches before the concept and the counting that assigns ‘mega’ status existed. There were giants in these churches and they went by the name mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, daughter, son, aunt, uncle, cousin, sister, brother. They were family.
“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and to prayer.” Acts 2:42 (CSB)
Have I told you of the amazing joy contained in those little buildings singing “take my life and let it be, consecrated Lord to thee?”
I have.
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The Fishing Shirt
I remember the day vividly when the old guy saw me on the closeout rack. I was already reeling from the fact that no one had chosen me for the purpose that I thought I had been created. They had cut me, sewed me, assigned me a title and hung me on that rack in the fishing section. I was named a UV protectant, long sleeved fishing shirt and certainly worth more than the humiliating $9.99 that I had been marked down to, as a last-ditch effort to make something out of nothing. The world that I was created for had rejected me and sent me to the ‘little value’ section, soon to be forgotten.
So there I was, moved from one section of shirts, hanging new and pristine to this guy’s closet, full of shirts from too many styles ago and most without my proud heritage of purpose assignment. I wanted these other old shirts, 1/4 zips, pull overs, short sleeved and button up shirts to see how I was made for the exciting, sun protecting, wind shielding, fish catching purpose of helping the old guy catch more fish. He needs all the help that he can get.
So I hung. I waited. I eagerly anticipated the exciting days to come of flying across the water in his old bass boat, fulfilling my destiny as we fished those East TN lakes and rivers. Life was fixing to get exciting.
Well one day he put me on and tucked me in his jeans, then cinched me tight with a belt. Okay, this was it. The day of my creation and purpose was here. Hmm, this is a new one. I wondered why he is drowning me in bug spray and why we were walking toward and into some hedges? And that bucket for the fish suggested we were not going to be catching many and certainly not big ones. I was confused to say the least. But grateful to be off that wretched hanger.
So I was thrust into these bushes having sharpe thorns designed to protect these black berries that I have come to learn the old guy loves to pick. I was shielding his arms from scratches and cuts and those evil little ticks, that God created for some reason that is hard to understand. Ah, most things are not mine to understand, just accept. So morning after morning when this berries are ripe and the summer sun is hottest, I am on his back, in the thickets filled with thorns, protecting the old guy and serving a purpose that brings delight to so many in the form of fresh fruit, toppings, jam, cobblers and on and on.
As I look at my sleeves shredded from years of protecting the old guy and ponder the joy that my new purpose has brought, I can’t help but marvel at the God who makes all things new. He takes things (us) off the marked down racks of false value assigned by the equally broken, and creates beautiful, life fulfilling and meaningful pathways of impact. There nothing sexy as I am filled with the sweat and stained with the blood of my picking partner as we fill that small fish bucket that is in actuality an awesome blackberry pail. There is everything purpose fulfilling as I perform my assigned role in the process of new life for those gifts the Father in Heaven has given us. So we pick on. Listening to the priceless words of God as we commune with him in the nature that he has created for us to delight in.
“Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don’t see many of “the brightest and the best” among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn’t it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these “nobodies” to expose the hollow pretensions of the “somebodies”? That makes it quite clear that none of you can get by with blowing your own horn before God. Everything that we have—right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start—comes from God by way of Jesus Christ. That’s why we have the saying, “If you’re going to blow a horn, blow a trumpet for God.” 1 Corinthians 1:27 (MSG)
Man, I am glad that I was marked down and devalued by an unknowing world. It was through that redirection that my life as a shirt took on the greatest imaginable purpose of impact. I now hang in the closet full of joy and admiration for the purpose that I deliver and the value that I have been assigned.
You matter to God. Simply put, nothing else matters. Perhaps the question you might ask is, “Father, what would you have me do?”
You’ve got this.
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Protection or Rejection
“If you make the Lord your refuge, if you make the Most High your shelter, no evil will conquer you; no plague will come near your home. For he will order his angels to protect you wherever you go. They will hold you up with their hands so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone. You will trample upon lions and cobras; you will crush fierce lions and serpents under your feet!” Psalm 91:9-13 (NLT)
It’s that time of year that I look forward to as much as any and likely not for the reasons that would seem apparent. It is blackberry picking season. Hot. Hard. Sweaty. Bleeding hands. Imbedded splinters from thorns. Alone. This week’s picking has been brutal as East TN has been enveloped in uncharacteristically hot weather. Awesome!
I have to say there is probably nothing that has drawn me into closer relationship with my Savior than the time that I have spent picking blackberries. I don’t ask or know why God chooses this to be my fortress of growth. The removal of outside influence and the conquering of the adversarial thorns surrounding and protecting that beautiful little fruit, causes my mind to be flooded by the awareness of a beautiful God and those hedges around our lives that either protect or reject.
I have heard the term “hedge of protection” used often to describe what a relationship with God and the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives could and should look like. Equally, I see that hedge of protection actually serving as a barrier of rejection, where we push away the source of life and hope. You see, most often the very best blackberries are hidden behind those formidable thorns that when lifted up or pushed aside, reveal the largest, juiciest, most ripe berries. A fact missed by the novice blackberry picker and a fact too often taken for granted by too many who claim the name of Christ.
Please know that I am not pointing a finger nor judging where anyone is in their journey of blackberry picking and/or relationship with Christ. We all have to start somewhere. ‘Starting’ being the key word. How can we finish a race that we don’t train for? When the coach assigns the runner to the mile race, that begins the preparation for the race to be run and the ‘PB,’ the personal best time being the goal of the athlete. Similarly when our Savior selects us for the race, we choose him to be our eternal coach, then the training begins. A training that involves commitment, preparation, an empty bucket (our heart and life) to be filled, and daily steps that draw us closer to him in knowledge and surrender.
As I prepare to pick blackberries the process involves long socks, long pants, long sleeved shirt. All things that are counterintuitive to 90 degree mornings in the South. My preparation includes tall rubber boots, a baseball cap then Deep Woods Off sprayed over my clothes, face and all gaps where intruders (mainly ticks), intend to breach my hedge of protection. As I walk out the door, I carry an empty gallon white bucket that when full concludes my day’s picking. While that filled bucket concludes my work, that’s when my picking partner’s work begins as Megan carefully cleans and prepares the berries for jam, cobblers, to be frozen for future use, for gifts to others and for the simple, delight delivering eating of those fresh berries. God is marvelous and his marvels lay all around us.
There are very few people that I meet that do not like or love blackberry jam. And while so many love the results of the harvest, there are exponentially fewer who want to join me in the process of picking. That’s okay and I love to see the joy and hear the sweet (no pun intended) comments from those experiencing Megan’s amazing jam for the first or fiftieth time.
“Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” Matthew 9:37-38 (ESV)
So my question today is simply this; is the hedge around your life a hedge of protection or a hedge of rejection? There is no ambiguity with God. We are either all his or not his. John writes and God makes clear in Revelation 3:16 “So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” (NIV). We cannot be born again and maintain the old behaviors that existed within us prior to salvation. We are now the pickers of God’s harvest. And that my friend is more than enough.
The berries are ripe, come join the harvest.
You’ve got this…
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Myron Speaks 