I spent yesterday doing disaster relief in the tornado destruction zone in Cookeville, Tennessee. I’m always hesitant to write about these experiences. Some may view my words as an attempt to pat myself on the back or garner attention. Please understand that is not my motivation. Whatever “attention” our efforts bring gets directed at the God we serve. Jesus gets ALL the glory and honor. 

I also hope that by sharing my experience, others become more aware of opportunities to serve. Case in point: after publicly telling my story to our church family at Bible study last night, several approached me asking questions. They want to get involved and be a part of the recovery effort. That’s the goal and my motivation for this blog.

My trip to Cookeville was a spur of the moment decision. I read an article on the tornado yesterday morning and felt compelled to do something—anything. I gathered a few belongings and granola bars and took off down I-40. 

I had no plan, which is unusual for me. Sometimes you just move toward an area of need and trust that God will work the specifics. I pulled into the Jackson Street Church of Christ in Cookeville where Churches of Christ Disaster Relief, Inc. is set up and operating. They didn’t need any volunteers there that day, but said various teams were out in the community helping those who had lost homes. That’s the answer I was looking for.

With the help of Google, I learned that much of the destruction occurred along Broad Street so I headed in that direction. The main zone of destruction is only accessible by first responders, residents, and utility workers…and by foot. In fact, farther west along that road, Search and Recovery operations are still ongoing. As of yesterday, 17 individuals were still unaccounted for.

I pulled into a partially damaged subdivision where a few dozen young people were piling up debris and cutting up downed trees. Looking like a college student myself (no comments!), I parked my car and joined in. The hardworking students were from nearby Tennessee Tech University. They were highly motivated and focused.

After two hours, I downed a couple of hot dogs courtesy of a nearby makeshift food ministry. I then walked west along Broad St. into the main destruction zone. No matter how many times you do this kind of work, it always breaks your heart. To the left, a used car dealership had been reduced to rubble. The damaged cars had been tossed about along the road and into a surrounding field. 

To the right, up on a hill, a home had been damaged beyond repair. A few dozen workers were spread out across the property, cutting up trees and transporting the wood and debris to the road. A giant crane was removing sections of the roof. A U-Haul van was out front and people, presumably family members, were filling it full of whatever household items could be salvaged. I joined the work crew for about an hour, working alongside several Marines wearing t-shirts that said, “Pain is weakness leaving the body.” If that is true, I thought, this community will eventually end up stronger as a result of this tragedy.

Mid-afternoon, I continued my journey west and joined another crew hauling debris from a mostly demolished home on the north side of the road. I soon found myself working alongside a couple of Marines, a few TN Tech students, and a dozen Mennonite men—people with very different backgrounds united by a mission to rid the area of downed trees and scattered debris.

After about 45 minutes, I noticed a grey-headed, bespectacled, elderly woman sitting on the steps of the collapsed front porch of the home. She was in a long-sleeved black t-shirt, red and black checkered pants, and high work boots. I went over and sat down beside her. She had a bruised chin and abrasions on the side of her face.  

“Are you the homeowner?” I asked.

“I am,” she replied. “Thank you for your help.”

She was clearly still in shock, not quite to the phase where the reality of the situation, and corresponding grief, sets in. Rather than talk or dispense advice, my natural inclination, I decided to just listen.

For the next 10 minutes, she told me her story. At around 2 o’clock a.m., she was awoken by the sound of sirens. She was initially puzzled by this, because she didn’t hear the sound of thunderstorms or rain. She pulled her little dog close and pulled a big blanket over the two of them. 

Moments later, the “freight train”—what we now know to be an EF-4 tornado—came roaring down her street. Her home began to shake and she could hear the howl of the wind and the sound of glass breaking. Suddenly, her bed was elevated, slammed against the side of the room, and dropped. With sections of her home collapsing around her, and debris flying everywhere, she thought this is how it will end.

But God spared her. Her story wouldn’t end in a pile of rubble on Broad Street in Putnam County.

The storm passed by and things turned eerily quiet. She pushed aside some debris and cautiously stepped from her bed, still clutching her little dog. There was just enough visibility for her to realize much of her home had caved in. The only way out was through a partially broken window. She busted the remainder of it out and somehow found the strength to climb outside to freedom. Once in her side yard, she was able to make out a scene of chaos and destruction through the darkness. She couldn’t see her neighbors’ homes on account of the downed trees and debris field.

But, looking southward, off in the distance, she spotted a light.

Not knowing what else to do, she screamed to the top of her lungs.

“Heeeeelp!”

A second later, the reply.

“Walk toward the light, Miss Lambert!”

“Walk toward the light and it’ll be okay!”

Truer words have never been spoken.

Still gripping her dog, and unaware of the blood flowing from her leg, she carefully negotiated the debris field and walked toward the light. Her neighbor comforted her, stopped the flow of blood from her leg, and bandaged her wound. At daylight, her son arrived on the scene. After working his way into her home and noticing the amount of blood on the floor in her bedroom, he determined his mom needed to go to the hospital.

Miss Lambert had several staples put into her leg and had multiple bruises and abrasions all over her body. But no bones were broken, and her wounds are not life-threatening. The same cannot be said for the 18 fatalities in Putnam County alone. On top of that, 88 souls were injured and, as of today, three are still missing.

I thanked Miss Lambert for sharing her story and asked if I could pray with her. She said that would be wonderful—that she needed all the prayers she could get. I also told her that I have lots of friends around the country who would want to pray for her as well.

So, if you can go to Cookeville or Nashville or one of the other impacted communities and help, please do so. They desperately need “boots on the ground.” If you can donate to a relief agency, either directly or through your church, that would also be greatly appreciated.

Additionally, I’m asking you to pray for the families and friends of those who have lost loved ones and for the injured. Pray that the missing can be found. Pray for healing. God knows all their names and all their situations. 

I would also like to encourage you to send a card or note of encouragement to Miss Chris Lambert. Although her home is destroyed (I’ll include some photos), the post office is holding her mail for her. I know a bunch of cards would mean a lot to this elderly woman who has lost almost all of her worldly possessions. You can reach her at:

            Chris Lambert

            1681 W. Broad St.

            Cookeville, TN 38501

After returning home last night, I read an article about the disaster. One of the victims, Rodney Mathis, said, “We’ve lost everything. But you know what, it’s not what you got, it’s who you got…And we got a lot of good neighbors here. We pull together and you’ll see the community pull together and clean this up. You won’t know it in a week.”

It’s not what you got, it’s who you got. 

Miss Lambert’s got us…so let’s write to her and pray for her, along with the other victims.

In John 8:12, Jesus says, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

Whatever situation you find yourself in—whatever struggles you’re facing in life—remember to walk toward the Light. 

Walk toward the Light and you’ll be okay.

Jean, a Senior Saint and family friend, asked the question while I was visiting my dad’s church in Tullahoma, TN, last year: “Steve, next February, would you be willing to speak to a group I’m a member of?”

“Sure, Jean, I’d be happy to. February looks clear. Just email me the details.”

When I’m asked to speak to a group and my calendar is clear, I always say yes. I’ve spoken about my Appalachian Trail hike and the lessons I learned over 40 times in the past few years. I’ve shared my insights at churches, schools, children’s homes, community centers, colleges, and camps across a dozen states. Audiences have ranged from 10 people to several hundred, from 3rd graders to really old people.

I’m invited not because I’m eloquent but because I don’t charge a fee and people are interested in my hike. I accept the invitations because I’m blessed to have the opportunity to share a unique perspective on my AT journey and corresponding faith journey. The AT hike gives me an excuse to talk about God to people who might otherwise not be interested. I realize this season won’t last forever—the invitations will eventually stop coming. So, for this season, I always say yes.

That brings me to Jean’s invitation.

“I want you to speak at the February 4th meeting of the Highland Rim Chapter of the Tennessee Ornithological Society.”
“Head and neck people?”
“No, that’s otolaryngology. I’m talking ornithology.”
“Insects?”
“No, birds. We’re bird people.”
“Birds? I don’t know anything about birds.”
“Yes, but you hiked the AT.”
“I don’t recall seeing any birds.”
“You hiked over 2000 miles in the woods and didn’t see any birds?”
“Not that I recall. I heard one or two fluttering in nearby bushes. I’m sure there were others, but I was looking down, watching where I was going.”
“Hmm. Maybe that’s okay. I’ve heard you speak and I think they would appreciate what you have to say. You sure you didn’t encounter any birds?”
“Well, I don’t know if this qualifies, but at an all-you-can-eat buffet in Atkins, I ate 7 or 8 pieces of fried chicken.”
“Chicken? We can work with that.”

For the first time in 4 years, I got a little nervous about an upcoming speaking gig. What was I going to say to bird people? Aside from feathers and the ability to fly, I know almost nothing about birds. As for experience, in the late 90s, two birds pooped on my youngest son, Kyle, within a span of 30 minutes. He teared up and his mom comforted him while I laughed. But that was while waiting to board a boat at the San Antonio Riverwalk, not on the AT. I’m not sure that was the kind of bird insight these people were looking for. And, with the venue being less than a mile from the Jack Daniel’s Distillery, would the audience even be sober?

Unsettled, I went to my friend, Valerie, a kind person, mother of 4, wife of 1, and bird lover. Valerie is into birds big-time. She identifies, counts, and photographs them. She bathes her children in a birdbath—except for Eli, who’s a male teenager. Valerie doesn’t just sit in the pew in front of us at church—she nests. While others affirm the preacher with a hearty “Amen!” Valerie squawks. On a jog in Alcoa this past summer, I spotted her standing by a pond, staring into the sky with binoculars. Birds energize her in much the same way that an RC Cola and moon pie energize me. Yes, I would approach Valerie for advice.

“Hey, Valerie, I need a favor. I’m speaking to an ortho…, ornith…, to some bird people in Lynchburg next week. Can you help?”
“What do you know about birds?”
“I’ve had fried chicken.”
“I see. Are you the only thing on the agenda?”
“No, I’m right before ‘great backyard bird counts’ and a ‘Woodcock display outing’.”
“Woodcocks are awesome!”
“You bet they are!” (She wasn’t going to out-enthusiasm me.)
“Seriously, let me show you the funky American Woodcock dance.”
(She pulls out her phone and orders up a video of an American Woodcock dancing.)
“That is awesome! What a crazy head bob!”
“It’s a courtship display.”
“I know that. I used it myself in college.”
“So, when you’re talking about the AT, just work in a little Woodcock dancing.”
“That’s perfect. I’ll bob and weave and keep moving. I’m so glad I came to you.”

Later that evening…
“Hon, what are you doing?”
“Practicing the Woodcock dance.”
“The what?”
“The Woodcock dance. It’s a mating ritual. What do you think?”
“We’re past that. Just come to bed.”
(What does Jan know about birds!)

So, yesterday, I drove to Lynchburg to talk to mostly strangers about God, the AT, and birds. I was greeted warmly by Jean and hubby Darrell, then approached by an elderly woman with the aura of a bird club matriarch. She introduced herself and told me she was 86 years old…

I replied, “Wow, I bet you’ve seen a lot of birds!” (Not a great opening line. Should have led with the woodchuck.)
“Oh, yes indeed.”
“What are your favorite birds?” (My small talk skills are legendary.)
“Well, that’s a tough one. I enjoy the wren…although it’s so small. Hard to spot.”
“Yes, tiny, but cute.”
“And, of course, the reticulated woodpecker.”
“Of course. The way it reticulates reminds me of my favorite bird, the woodchuck.”

She gave me an odd look and then we were mercifully interrupted by the announcement that it was time for dinner. I joined 25 of the sweetest Tennesseans you’ll ever meet for a delightful meal featuring nuts and seeds. During the meal, I learned that on their latest bird count for the Audubon Society, they had reported an impressive 76 species and 3,706 birds. These people take birding seriously.

As I stood to prepare to speak, I did a little Woodcock dance as an ice-breaker/attention-getting step.

Dead silence. Tough crowd.

“You okay?” a man asked.
“Yeah, just got a little crick in my neck. Long drive.”
“Maybe use a chair?”
“No, I’m good.”

For the next 45 minutes, I talked to these dear people about God, the AT, and birds. For the bird portion, I used a picture of a nest with 4 eggs in it, which I had taken while on the AT in Grayson Highlands, Virginia. The excitement in their eyes I had hoped for may have been diminished by their familiarity with nests and eggs.

More positively, I mentioned a “distraction display” that I had witnessed on the trail a few times, where a bird will fly away from its nest and flap its wings, feigning injury, to distract a predator from its nest. A few in the audience nodded in understanding and approval. They were essentially acknowledging my bird swag. For one special moment, I was one with the audience—birds of a feather. I spent the rest of my allotted time talking to them about God and the AT, and then I drove home.

In 1 Corinthians 9:20-22, Paul said, and I’m paraphrasing…

• I became like a Jew to win the Jews
• I became like one under the law to win those under the law
• I became like one not having the law to win those not having the law
• I became weak to win the weak
• “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.”

I’m not a bird guy. I’m not eloquent. I’m certainly not Paul.

But when the February 4th 2020 minutes of the meeting of the Highland Rim Chapter of the Tennessee Ornithological Society are written, may they state: On a rainy night at the Moore County Building in Lynchburg, Tennessee, the unqualified and not-entirely-confident Fob W. Pot became a bird guy, though not a bird guy, to try to win some bird guys.

What can you become?

What unfamiliar or uncomfortable environment can you enter to reach someone?

If you follow sports or national news headlines, you’ve probably heard about or seen video of the all-out, bench-clearing brawl that occurred at the end of the Kansas-Kansas State college basketball game on Tuesday night. As basketball fights go, it was the scariest I’ve seen. It’s a wonder no one was seriously injured.

Coaches, parents, youth ministers, and middle-aged bloggers call these incidents “teachable moments.” However, before we get to what is teachable, let’s set the stage.

The Kansas Jayhawks had a 22-point lead over their cross-state rival and the ball at half court toward the end of the game. In such a scenario, two unwritten rules of game etiquette generally apply:

1. If you have the ball, are way ahead, and time is running out, you stop trying to score. There’s no need to add to your already substantial lead—no need to further humiliate your weaker opponent. You dribble in place and everyone stands around until time expires.
2. If you are far behind and your opponent is adhering to rule #1, you allow them to. You back off and let them run out the clock.

However, there is a third principle that is often applied in sports and in life: 

3. Play hard to the end. Never give up. The game isn’t over until the final horn sounds.

Despite Kansas State Coach Weber’s explicit instructions to his team to adhere to rule #2, DaJuan Gordon was having none of that. Whether it was due to his youth, inexperience, frustration over losing, or a firm belief in rule #3, Gordon stripped Kansas’ Silvio De Sousa of the ball and drove down the court to attempt an end-of-game score. De Sousa, upset that his adherence to rule #1 had not resulted in his opponent’s adherence to rule #2, charged down the court to make a play on the ball. If his opponent was going to live rule #3, he would as well.

De Sousa caught up with Gordon and forcefully blocked his attempted layup. Had the story ended there, we would have no story. Unfortunately, De Sousa, still enraged over the perceived disrespect shown him, stood over Gordon, taunting him. Players on the Kansas State bench, in response to the taunting, left the bench and charged the scene. Players from the Kansas bench soon followed. A melee ensued, with pushing, shoving, and punches thrown. As the fight spilled into the crowd, De Sousa picked up a chair and raised it to deliver a blow, but was stopped by an assistant coach. After several frightening moments, players were separated and order was restored.

As for the teachable…

1. Note the linkage between anger and violence. When emotions get out of hand, bad things result. James 1:1 asks, “What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you?” In the Sermon on the Mount, specifically Matthew 5:21-22, Jesus says it’s not enough to simply not murder…we should not even become angry. Violence, and the murder that sometimes results from it, has its roots in anger. Rather than fully vent our rage like a fool (Proverbs 29:11), we “should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.” (James 1:19)

2. Be a peacemaker! In Matthew 5:9, Jesus blesses peacemakers and says they will be called children of God. You can spot them in the video of the brawl. They are the coaches, security personnel, and others who are separating players, deescalating the situation, and preventing further harm. Without their calming presence, I wonder how the scenario would have ended. I also wonder, had I been there, what role would I have played? Would I have joined my favorite team in throwing punches? Would I have stepped back but cheered them on? Would I have sat silently, thinking “it’s not my fight”? Or, would I have helped deescalate the situation as a peacemaker?

3. Bad behavior has consequences. In Colossians 3:25, Paul writes, “Anyone who does wrong will be repaid for their wrongs.” Yesterday, the Big 12 suspended four players a combined 25 games for their roles in the fight. De Sousa, as the primary instigator, was given a 12-game suspension by the league office. A teammate received a 2-game suspension and two Kansas State players received 8-game and 2-game suspensions. Both schools were reprimanded by the Big 12 for violations of its sportsmanship policy. Beyond that, the incident sullied the reputation of the teams, college basketball, and the players themselves. Less importantly, the suspensions will impact the teams’ ability to win basketball games while the suspensions are served.

4. Bad behavior should lead to contrition. To the credit of the players and coaches, that’s what happened following the brawl. The coaches and several of the players apologized. Coach Self called a female spectator who had been knocked down in the scuffle to check on her and apologize for his team’s behavior. I didn’t read any excuses from anyone directly involved in the incident. In this day and age, that’s remarkable. Pay attention to how often people try to justify or mitigate bad behavior by beginning, “But what about…” and then pointing to the just as bad, or even worse, behavior of someone else. It happens every day. Except for some fans’ comments, it didn’t happen in this case. Consider De Sousa’s heartfelt apology on his Twitter account…

 He owned his behavior, apologized for it, and accepted the consequences. He offered no excuses. There was no, “But what about…” He’s embarrassed by his actions and wants to do better going forward. He concludes with “I messed up and I am sorry.” That’s contrition. In the Christian context, that’s called confession of sins and repentance.

5. When we learn from our mistakes, we can be better going forward. In Philippians 3:13b, Paul calls us to forget what is behind and strain toward what is ahead. To bounce back and not let our past define us. I believe that will be the case with Silvio De Sousa. I’ll admit, I had a pretty low opinion of him after watching the video. Literally, all I knew about him was what may go down as the worst 30 seconds of his life. (I would hate for anyone to judge me or draw conclusions based on the worst 30 seconds of my life!) I still don’t know much about the young man, but on his Twitter account, I note his prayer for the safety of our troops on January 4^th and, on December 29^th, an expression of thankfulness to “the man up above” for every minute of his life. On December 18^th, he joined his teammates in Christmas shopping for families in need. I don’t know Silvio De Sousa’s heart, but I think he’s going to bounce back and do great things with his life. I’m pulling for him.

A teachable moment? I think so. To recap… 

• Guard your emotions, especially anger. 
• Be known as a peacemaker, regardless of context.
• Before acting, consider the consequences of your behavior.
• When you screw up, own it. Don’t make excuses. Ask God to forgive you.
• Learn from your mistakes and be a better person going forward.

Oh, and one more thing: Don’t draw conclusions about a person based on the worst 30 seconds of their life. There may be more to the story.

Class dismissed.

On Sunday morning, May 26^th, in Ballwin, Missouri, Janet and I had the privilege of hearing our youngest son, Kyle, preach a sermon about discerning God’s will. Among other points, he said that when you face difficult decisions or are unsure of the way forward, you should seek God’s will. God may open or close a door. He may put the right person in your path or bring clarity to the thoughts swirling about in your head. His guidance may be immediate and obvious or it may take considerable time and be more obscure.

Toward the end of the lesson, Kyle invited everyone to join him for a few moments of silence. He asked each listener to offer a silent prayer to God, seeking his guidance on 2 or 3 decisions we were facing. Without consulting each other, Janet and I each offered a similar prayer. It went something like this…

God, we’ve been on the road for nearly 5 years, living in and serving from our RV. What’s next for us? What will it look like? Where do you need us? Should we stick with our tentative plan to settle down in East Tennessee? Should we keep on Sojourning? Should we hang on to our RV?

On Tuesday morning, the day after Memorial Day, less than 48 hours after offering those prayers, my phone rang…

“Hello.”

“Is this Mr. Johnson?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I’m the owner of the Whispering River RV Resort in Walland, Tennessee. Are you the owner of the Thor Windsport being stored here for the week?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news. There was a fire at our campground yesterday afternoon and your RV was one of five that burned to the ground. I’m so sorry.”

And just like that, we had our answer.

I’m not suggesting God sent fire from heaven to burn down our RV…though he certainly could have. (For more on that, read about the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel in 1 Kings 18.) I learned long ago not to put God in a box and try to explain what he is or isn’t doing. I simply have faith that he answers prayer in his perfect timing and consistent with his perfect will. I know he’s active in the world and that, for Christians, our stories end well. That is enough.

I got off the phone and took a deep breath. For reasons related to personality type and my military training, I didn’t panic, get angry, or become emotional. Instead, I remember having 3 distinct thoughts:

1. God is good…and good will come from this.
2. What did we lose that cannot be replaced?
3. What are the ramifications? We’re homeless now. Where’s the checklist for that?

I broke the news to Kyle and Janet who, like me, were shocked but remained calm. I asked Kyle to offer a prayer for our situation and he obliged. (Least he could do since he was the one who told us to pray for discernment!) After a few phone calls to notify various family members, we took the next logical step: going out for Mexican food with long-time family friend Brett. Between bites of Arroz con Pollo, the magnitude of this life setback began to sink in.

Fast forward 6 months from that fateful morning, and I am compelled to proclaim the following:

While I didn’t get emotional on the morning of that fateful phone call, I’m a bit misty-eyed this afternoon thinking about what has transpired over the past 6 months. (Or maybe Janet is cutting up onions in our kitchen…yeah, it’s probably that.)

To recap…

• No one died. All 5 RVs were empty of people at the time. Based on the burn pattern, investigators suspect the fire started with the RV cattycorner to ours, but they don’t know why.

• We had insurance. Turns out really good insurance. I know people who are uninsured or under-insured for certain tragedies that befall them. That was not our case.

• After the fire, hundreds of people reached out to us to offer their prayers and well wishes. Dozens of friends and family members offered up rooms in their homes, along with available RVs for us to live in indefinitely, and even second homes and vacation cottages, at locations all over the country. Those offers touched us to the core. It felt like God was unleashing a giant safety net, in the form of our friends, to ensure a soft landing. You all are the best!

• Most of what we lost is replaceable. It took some time to get new passports, birth certificates, our marriage license, etc. I lost most of the gear from my AT hike, all my tools, and all my fishing gear. We lost most of our clothes, all of our winter clothes, and all my Air Force uniforms. I lost the watch my late grandfather had given me that he received for his many years of service at Goodyear. The precious picture of our RV that our daughter-in-law, Rachel, drew is gone, along with my 30-year-old collection of CDs. Sadly, the crocheted Fob W. Pot doll, stuffed with beard hair, that my sister-in-law Carol made me, is gone. Again, most folks who have experienced house fires have had it much, much worse, so you won’t hear us complain. It’s mostly just stuff…and God has spent the past 5 years teaching us to not get too caught up in stuff.

• We found a nice apartment in Maryville, TN, as the search for a house continues. A 1 bedroom apartment may seem small, but not to folks who have lived in a 350-sq-ft RV for nearly 5 years. It’s next to a pool and a workout room…and, between us, we’re down about 45 pounds since the fire! Pass the turkey.

• We found an incredible church home and Christian friends at Eastside church of Christ. They took us in, moved us in, and gave us a “pounding” of food, kitchen supplies, and other items to get us re-established. What an amazing, loving, group of people! Thank you all!

• Our fire-induced break from Sojourning gave us the time, oddly enough, to finish our book about Sojourning. Still, our plan is to continue Sojourning in 2020, on a more limited basis. We’ll stay in cabins, for now, and eventually hope to get a small camper. 

• One of our main goals will finally be realized on December 13^th when Janet’s parents, Raymond and Shirley, move in with us. They are dear Christian people and it will be an honor to have them live with us for the remainder of their lives. And if you don’t think their presence will inspire a future book or screenplay, The In-Laws, you don’t know me very well!

A final note…While going through some boxes this week in preparation for our move to a larger apartment, I came across an old suitcase, which contained an old box, which contained my grandfather’s Goodyear watch! Turns out it wasn’t lost after all!

Are we thankful this Thanksgiving season? You bet we are!

God is good.

God is faithful.

Praise God!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Another interesting afternoon at Vienna Coffee House, one of the Maryville-area coffee shops I frequent. A couple of times each week, I spend a few hours drinking coffee, listening to music, and trying to turn ideas into books. While some authors prefer writing in quiet solitude, I’m inspired by the sights and sounds of humanity milling about. Everyone has a story. 

Earlier this afternoon, I found my usual spot in a comfy chair and began writing. Two millennial fellas sat across from me. One was engrossed in his cell phone and the other was devouring a Turkey Pesto Panini as if time were running out on a food shot clock.

The cell phone guy glanced over at me and noticed the hiking boot and Appalachian Trail stickers on the back of my laptop.

“Excuse me, sir. You familiar with the AT?” he asked.

“Yeah, pretty familiar with it,” I answered.

“Ever hike any of it?”

“Yep, I’ve hiked the whole thing.”

With that, his face lit up and his buddy looked over, mustard dripping from his chin.

“You’re a thru-hiker?!”

“Yep, did the whole thing in ’16.”

“Wow!” They were in shock. Cell phone guy looked over at his buddy, then got up and sat down in the chair next to me. “Mind if I ask you some questions.”

“Go for it.”

Over the next 30 minutes, he enthusiastically peppered me with dozens of questions about the AT, and I responded in kind. I have a strand of AT in my DNA and never tire of the subject. No one can “out enthusiasm” me on the AT. On my deathbed, just before they pull the plug, I plan to mutter something about the Half Gallon Challenge.

Some of cell phone guy’s questions were the usual ones—bear sightings, conditioning, hardest part, best section, gear, etc. Others were unique to him and his buddy. They are from out of town, are leaving tomorrow, and wanted to get in a hike before sunset. That led to a discussion of area trails and the pros and cons of each. I pulled up a few recommendations on my laptop and they snapped pictures of each. We discussed my AT books and they plan to check them out.

As I type this, the fellas have likely parked their car at Cades Cove and have arrived at Spence Field shelter on the AT. If they keep their pace up, they have a decent shot at getting back to their car before sunset.

I wonder if I’ll ever see them again. Unlikely, right?

I wonder if there would have been a conversation, and how it would have gone, had my laptop sticker been not of the AT, but of a cross.

I wonder if I would have been as enthusiastic in sharing my faith as I am in sharing my AT knowledge.

I wonder if these two fellas believe in God. I wonder if anyone has helped them connect the dots between the amazing Appalachian Trail and the even more amazing God who made it.

I don’t wonder if it was a missed opportunity. It clearly was.

So, I just ordered a cross sticker for my laptop from Amazon. If it doesn’t prompt a bystander to inquire, maybe it will prompt me to take a chance.

Unfortunately, Amazon doesn’t sell courage. That comes from within.

Only I can share my faith.

I’m asking God for another chance.

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
– John 15:13 

Less than three years after the 9/11 terrorists attacks against our country, I arrived at the Pentagon for a 3-year tour. By then, the physical damage had been repaired, although building renovations were still ongoing. 

Not long after my arrival, I went to meet with a senior officer from the Army’s G-1 personnel office. While waiting in a reception area, I struck up a conversation with the secretary and asked about her 9/11 experience. I knew that the Army G-1 had sustained a direct hit, killing 29 people, including their leader, Lieutenant General Timothy Maude. 

The woman I spoke with survived that day because she was away from her desk at the time of impact. In a large computer room, while on her way to run an errand, she felt the impact and was knocked to the floor. In total darkness and with smoke filling the room, she knew she had to get out. Rattled and disoriented, she didn’t know which way “out” was. 

Suddenly, she heard a reassuring voice in the darkness.
“Grab a hold of my waistband. We’re going to crawl out of here.”
The voice belonged to a Sailor, who was on his way to the Pentagon gym at the time of the attack. The woman complied, and the two of them slowly crawled through the smoke and rubble. 

At one point he asked her how she was doing. Her main issue was the snot and soot coming out of her nose. The Sailor pulled off his sweatshirt so she could wipe the snot and grime off her face. 

They eventually made their way out of the building. The Sailor quickly left her with his Navy sweatshirt and she never saw him again. She suspects he may have gone back into the building to help others. Although she doesn’t know his name, she said she will forever be grateful to him for guiding her out of the building, and perhaps saving her life, on that fateful day. 

The note from the margin reads: Lessons from 9/11…

1. Be a hero. Thousands of heroes were revealed on 9/11 and the days that followed. We found them among the World Trade Center and Pentagon personnel, rushing to save themselves and others. We found them in a group of strangers who teamed up to take back United Flight 93, preventing the plane from killing an untold number of U.S. Capitol personnel. We found heroes in the firefighters and other first-responders who rushed toward danger to help others. Many lost their own lives in the process. 

In John 15:13, Jesus highlights a special kind of hero: one who loves his friends enough to lay down his life for them. Jesus raised the bar higher. He laid down his life not just for his friends but for his enemies. He suffered a cruel death for those who despised and rejected him. While I’m confident I would lay down my life for my family, and most likely for my friends, I’m not so sure about my enemies. That’s another thing that sets Jesus apart and makes him the hero among heroes.

You may never have the opportunity to be a hero in such a dramatic and public way as those who emerged on 9/11. But, every day, we have an opportunity to do good for others. Paul, in Galatians 6:9-10, states, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.” 

2. Live each day as if it were your last. Psalm 90:10 reads, “Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away.” The psalmist reminds us of the difficulty and brevity of life. We are mortal and, in the context of eternity, have but a few days. (See Job 14:1 and Psalm 90:12) James puts it this way: “Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” (James 4:14) 

On the morning of 9/11, I doubt any of the victims gave much thought to the idea that it would be their final morning on earth. We don’t like to think about such things, and yet, we all have that date with destiny. As such, we must make “the most of every opportunity.” (Ephesians 5:16) 

Jesus drives the point home in Matthew 24:42-44: “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.”

3. Get back up when you get knocked down. The 9/11 terrorist attacks knocked our nation to its knees, but we rebounded stronger and more united than ever. The Army secretary who shared her story with me represents thousands of survivors and next of kin who had to literally or figuratively crawl on their hands and knees in darkness until they found the light. 

Faithful Christians can expect to get knocked down from time to time. In 2 Timothy 3:12, we read, “In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” Our response to being knocked down and persecuted is found in Proverbs 24:16: “for though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again, but the wicked stumble when calamity strikes.” 

In 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 Paul, who faced his fair share of persecution, concludes, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.” 

9/11/01…may we learn the lessons and never forget.