This morning, I got the call I hoped would not come. Aaron Smith, my close friend and brother in Christ, passed away in the early morning hours. His sister Elizabeth informed me. I was stunned, speechless. It all happened so fast, and I couldn't get my head around it. Over the past couple of months, this cancer moved so rapidly there was almost nothing that could be done to stop it, or even slow it down. Aaron had been admitted to Piedmont Hospital, where they began aggressive chemo treatments. I had been down there to see him numerous times, even spent the night to give the family a break. He fought bravely, but ultimately, the cancer overpowered modern medicine, and he was sent to a hospice down close to where we all grew up. There he died, not two days after being settled. Over the past few months of his battle, we had many conversations. He went from fear to determination, to urgency in sharing Christ with people, and finally to peace and resignation, that whatever happens, Christ would be glorified and many would come to faith as a result. One of the nights I was with him at Piedmont, about 2am after getting another overnight round of pain meds, he wanted to talk. We sat up until 3am, talking about the things he had been learning in Bible study recently, the opportunities God had given him to share Christ with visitors and hospital personnel, and his thoughts on where all this was going. He said, "Rob, I have to tell you something. I'm not afraid anymore. Whatever God's plan for me is, I'm at peace with it. If I get well, I'll keep living for Christ. If I don't, well, I'll be with Christ. I can't lose either way." I shared the verses in Philippians 1:20-24, where Paul states, "For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Win-win situation for a Christ follower. I then felt led to share with him something God had spoken to me a couple of weeks earlier, but had been hesitant to share with anyone yet, in hopes Aaron would get well. I shared with him the passage in John 12:24, where Jesus declares, "unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains by itself alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." At this Aaron began to weep heavily and loudly, grasped my hand, and said, "Rob, that's the exact thing I've been praying lately! That if by my death, they (several family and friends) come to faith in Christ, it will have been worth it all. I'm so happy, so happy." I was stunned. The very verse God had laid on my heart for Aaron, but didn't want anyone to know for fear they would think I was predicting his death, was the very verse he himself had been praying. Wow. So here I sit, grieving the loss of my dear friend, but cherishing all the great memories we made together, and resolute that I will do my part to carry out that commission. I will share the life and love of Christ with those Aaron wanted to see saved, and with any others God gives opportunity. That will be the highest I can do to honor my friend, fulfill his desires. This seed will bear much fruit. I love you Aaron, my friend and my brother. And I'll see you again, one day.

A very dear friend of mine is currently in the fight of his life right now. Aaron Smith, high school friend, motorcycle riding buddy, and as of three years ago, brother in Christ, is battling advanced prostate cancer, which has spread into his bones and lower spine. It tears me up to see and hear him struggle in agony and exhaustion.
Aaron and I go way back, to our freshman year in high school, 1977. We met our first day of school. I had difficult middle school years, as many kids do, and my first day in high school was not starting well. I had no classes with my friends, and by 3rd period was hopelessly lost in the bowels of this huge new world called high school. Overwhelmed, I stood in the back corner of a bathroom, quietly sobbing, embarrassed to go any further. Suddenly, a blond-haired kid with braces and a 9th grade "bro-stache" walked in, looked at me and asked, "Dude, what's wrong?" I told him my dilemma, he looked at my schedule and replied, "Hey, you're in my class! C'mon, I'll take you there." No ridicule, no ignoring, he just offered help. His name was Aaron. He was the first friend I made in high school.
We stayed friends, but our lives took different paths toward the end of our school years. His parents divorced, and Aaron sank into many of the pitfalls that so many teens succumb to. I came to Christ by 11th grade, and got very involved in church. After our school days, Aaron joined the Air Force and found an aptitude for flying. He later became an airline pilot, living the "glamorous" jet-setting life for the next several decades. I went to college and seminary, got married, started a family, and pursued a calling of serving God in full-time ministry. Except occasionally at class reunions, we lost contact with each other.
Our paths crossed again almost 4 years ago, when through another old high school friend, Pat Davis, we reconnected on Facebook. The three of us began meeting up and going on motorcycle rides, and spent much time talking and catching up with each other's lives and experiences. They both knew I had become a Christian back in school and was a minister now, and we shared many conversations about spiritual things. The years and the miles apart had made all three of us very close once we reconnected.
One Sunday afternoon, I got a call from Aaron, who said with a wavering voice, "Rob, I have something to tell you. I've been going to Dr. Stanley's church, First Baptist Atlanta, for the past month, and this morning I gave my life to Christ! I wanted you to be the first to know." Words can't describe the joy I felt, and I choked up with emotion. Within a couple of months, I had the privilege of baptizing Aaron, at FBCA, with his mom, sister, Pat & Karen, and other family and friends all present. In the years since then, I've seen Aaron grow in Christ dramatically, devouring God's Word, getting involved in ministry at his new church, and sharing his new-found faith in Christ with people at every opportunity. We have continued to take motorcycle road trips together, enjoying our renewed friendship and shared faith after all these years.
I got a call from him last month, beginning almost the same way one did over three years ago- "Rob, I have something to tell you..." What he told me this time made my heart stop. "I have prostate cancer. It's highly advanced, stage 4, and I'm scared." I was stunned. Not Aaron! The last few years flashed through my mind. We prayed together, shed some tears together, and I pledged, along with Pat, to do whatever possible for him as he goes through this fiery trial. After a battery of tests and scans, the cancer has been found in his bones as well, the pelvic region, in his lower spinal vertabae, and now his liver. The outlook is bleak, the road long and torturous.
Aaron is considering his options, looking at various treatments and aggressive measures, even considering natural approaches such as macrobiotics. My aunt Judy is a 21-year stage 4 cancer survivor, and I've put them in contact with each other. God only knows where this will all go, what the outcome will be.
So I'm praying for my friend and my brother, asking God for his healing and wholeness. I'm reminded how fragile and short this life is, "like a vapor" as the Bible states. God has not promised us smooth sailing and clear skies in this life, but no matter what we face, He promises us His presence and grace. And whenever our end here is, those of us who know Him and have entrusted our lives to Him await the promise of the real life to come, never to struggle and suffer again. That is our great hope. That is Aaron's great hope. That is my great hope.
Pray for Aaron- my friend, my brother in Christ.

This past Sunday, I had a couple of amazing animal encounters again. With spring in the air, and considering my previous entry, these were pretty incredible.
After returning from church, I changed out of my "Sunday" clothes, then took the dogs for a walk, up and down the driveway. I had left the door to the den open, to let some fresh air in. As we stepped back inside, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. A small wren had flown into the house, and was buzzing around in the den, trying to avoid us. I chased her around the room, trying to catch her against a window, drape or something. She flew upstairs to the kitchen, right into the blinds of the breakfast nook. I gently trapped her and pulled her out, trying not to hurt the little creature. She squawked at me, very unhappy with being captured. I loosened my grip to adjust, and out she jumped, flitting around the kitchen again. She finally landed on a drape, and I was able to quickly snatch her in my hands again, still careful not to harm her.
As I walked back outside to release her, I was amazed at how tiny and fragile she was. She fit in the palm of my hand. As I opened my hands to let her go, she suddenly gripped one of my fingers with both little feet, and didn't let go. I held my hand up, this tiny bird perched now on my index finger, and she just looked at me, refusing to fly off immediately. Was she wondering why I didn't crush her, or eat her? Who knows. It couldn't have been more than 20 seconds, but she finally flew off, the dogs and I watching her departure.
Later in the afternoon, after a short nap, I was again outside with the dogs, this time sitting on the front steps, the dogs sitting on the front walkway. Birds were chirping and singing everywhere, all around us. Suddenly, in a flash, a large red-tailed hawk swooped down out of a nearby tree, and caught a small bird in his talons, tumbling into the grass not five feet from Johnny. Before any of us could even react, the hawk was off toward the woods, the little victim squeaking in his clutches. Shocking. My first thought was, could this have been the same little wren I released earlier? I concluded it was not, based on the pile of grey feathers in the grass where they had landed. Still, I felt sadness for the sudden demise of the little bird, although I understand it is part of life right now. Then I wondered, was this the same hawk I encountered at the end of the driveway last week? Very likely could have been. I see and hear hawks all around our property, fairly regularly.
God has created a beautiful, wild world for us to enjoy, and sometimes, we are given the opportunity to experience it up close and personal. The little wren in my hands, the large, powerful hawk in front of me. Both display the beauty and power of our God. For now, this is a fallen world, where attack and defense, tooth and claw, are a part of life. A day is coming, however, when "the wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together;" and the hawk will perch on my hand, next to the wren.

Today was an absolutely beautiful day for March. Sunny, wispy clouds overhead, temps in the upper 60s. I rode the motorbike to the office, praying and worshiping as I rode in. I had three amazing encounters during the day, that reminded me of the nearness of God. As I finished breakfast, I glanced out to our backyard, and saw four deer, grazing on our grass, with the sun rising through the woods behind them. I whispered, "Thank you Father, for this morning gift", and loaded up for work.
I came home during lunch to check on the dogs, and enjoyed a leisurely walk down our long driveway with them. The sun was bright and warm, a slight breeze was wafting through the trees, and I savored the moments before once again saddling up to go back to the office. As I rolled to the end of the driveway on the bike, I noticed a large red tail hawk right in front of me, perched on a telephone line over our mailbox. I stopped, watching to see what he would do, and he just sat there, moving his head from side to side, eye-balling me as I was him. I again whispered, "Thank you Father for this moment in time, shared with this exquisite creature you have made!" As I rode off, he remained, watching me pull away.
Later this evening, as I talked on the phone with my friend Aaron, I heard something unusual outside, so I walked out into the moon-lit driveway. I heard in the pines over my head the tell-tale "whoo-whoo, whoo-whoo, whoo" of not one, but three owls, calling to each other across the trees. Transfixed, I held my phone up for Aaron to hear, which he could, but barely. To my naked ear, they were up close and personal, almost right above me. It was awe-inspiring. I told Aaron I'd have to call him back, and I spent the next ten minutes, standing out front, under the moon and trees, listening to these three owls make music to my ears. Even the dogs sat in silence, looking skyward, listening as well. Again I whispered, "Thank you Father, for another indescribable gift tonight. I love you."
Life has become so busy it seems, and I have become so distracted, I have begun to lose sight of the little "hints of Heaven, glimpses of glory" God has placed throughout His creation, all around me. Even when I'm riding my motorcycle, which has always been a personal retreat on wheels for me, I've begun to focus on riding techniques I've been studying, practicing cornering, shifting, etc., all good things. Today reminded me to drink in the scenery all around, to get my "head on a swivel, eyes outside the cockpit" to use a fighter pilot phrase, and enjoy God in His creation again.
As we finish up our "Wonderful Outlaw" series in RockiTown this Sunday, getting to know the incredible personality of Jesus, I will communicate that we must return to simply loving Jesus- in worship, in His Word, and in His world. To quote John Eldredge from the book we based our series on, "I am making a practice of loving Jesus. Loving him for who he really is. The Jesus who gave us the oceans and rivers. Who gave us laughter. Who served up 908 bottles of wine to Cana."
And who gave me four deer, three owls, one hawk, and a couple of four-legged furry companions to enjoy it all with today.
Thank you Father. I love you too.

Since we have undertaken to lead our Children's ministry through a year-long reading of the New Testament (see the Jan. 7 entry), I've been struck by something I'm not sure I've ever really paid attention to before. We are currently reading through the Gospel of Mark, having completed Matthew. As I read of Jesus' dealings with people, His teachings, His miracles & signs, I'm fascinated by how He brings healing to people. It seems like He never healed two people exactly the same way, even if it was the same issue/ailment. One blind man, He would simply say, "Be healed!", and the man's eyes would be opened. Another, He might spit on some dirt, rub it on the guy's eyes, and tell him to go wash. Still another, He would spit right in the eyes, and heal him on the spot. He drove out demons differently, some very confrontational and face-to-face, others from a great distance, one even without directly addressing the demons. He commanded, they fled. He healed lepers by putting His hands right on them, He healed the mute by touching their tongue, healed the deaf by poking His fingers in their ears, and even healed some who just touched His clothes. Never the same way twice.

He was so personal with each circumstance, often so private. Sometimes He would even instruct them not to tell anyone, which usually didn't work! But each case was very personal, very intimate, very specific to the individual. I love this. Jesus Christ, King of all kings and Lord of all lords, God Almighty from age to age, walked the dust of earth among us. Not as some unapproachable holy man or mystic, but as "God with us", Divinity up close and personal, the Creator in clothes. And He touched. He spoke. He healed.

I love how He loved people. How He treated women. How He raised the dead, healed the sick and broken, restored health, hope, life. I think that was His real motivation. Physical healing was important, but Jesus saw deeper, to what each person really needed, and He healed there too.

May I see others as Jesus saw them, may I touch as He touched, may I love as He loved, may I be an instrument of His healing, in this lost, hurting, dying world.

Its been about a month now since my father's emergency heart surgery, and he has recovered remarkably. Off all pain medication, and mostly back to normal (he still has to be careful not to lift too much). We all are very happy with his progress. I look forward to some spring/summer/fall riding with him this year.
I'm also very proud of something he has recently accomplished, that he has never been known for. He wrote down an account of all he experienced during those days surrounding his surgery, things he thought and felt, words and Scripture God brought to him in the midst of the pain and uncertainty. My dad has never been much of a reader, much less a writer- I get those traits from my mother, a prolific reader and writer. But write he did, and below are some excerpts from his story, entitled "Out Of Control".
"Being a typical man I've always felt I was, or should always be, in control of my life, and what I did would determine how things would go for me. Most men feel that they are in control, and when things get out of control it’s a very disturbing feeling. So it was with me several months ago when I noticed increasing bouts of chest pain." Dad recounts the recurring problems, even though he had a heart stint installed three years prior. Thinking he could control it, he chose to wait until after the holidays to get checked out, writing, "Still thinking I was in control, this could have been a deadly mistake on my part."
He writes of being admitted, the emergency surgery being scheduled, and the feeling that everything was out of his hands- he no longer was in control. As my brothers and I rushed from all over to Augusta and be with our mother during the surgery, Dad recalls this- "I was handed a clipboard with paperwork for me to sign, giving them permission to operate. It was at this point things for me were 'Out Of Control'. I had signed my name and now had no control over what would happen to me." He recalled a verse from the Bible, Hebrews 13:5, which reads, "Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you." Dad writes, "I know now that in moments of great stress, though we may not be thinking of God, He is always thinking of us."
As previously written, the surgery went great, and though there have been pains, feelings of helplessness, exhaustion, Dad writes, "Reflecting back on all of this, my first question might be 'Where was God in all this?' I believe I know. When I was waiting too long to get help for my heart, He was holding back a heart attack, keeping my heart safe for surgery." He recites part of Philippians 4:7, "and the peace of God...will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." God was in total control, the whole time.
Dad concludes by stating, "I will not be in control anymore, I’m not very good at it. It could have cost me my life. I will leave control to God now and do my best to trust Him daily for direction."
"I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken or His descendants begging for bread."(Psalm 37:25)
Final footnote- the day my father had his heart surgery, my niece Rylee, Rick's daughter, prayed and gave her life to Christ back home in Dallas with Robyn her mother. Dad finishes with this-
"He gave two people new hearts on Jan. 11, 2012. Mine as He rebuilt my heart physically, and spiritually as my granddaughter Rylee prayed with her mom to receive Christ in her heart that same day. God is good, God is faithful."
Yes He is.

This has been a stressful week, in my immediate and extended family. My father had emergency triple bypass heart surgery this past Wednesday. He has been dealing with growing heart issues for several years now, with blood thinners for his arteries, three heart catheter procedures in the last two years, a stint put in one artery last summer. He has been experiencing chest pain and shortness of breath again since before Christmas, so my mother drove him to the VA hospital in Augusta, where his heart procedures have all been done before. They did blood tests, determined they needed to do another heart cath, then decided to send him to the hospital on nearby Ft. Gordon Army base. All this time, I and my brothers had been on the phone with Dad & Mom, keeping up with all that was going on. When they were informed that Dad would need a triple bypass, and it was scheduled for Thursday, I took off from work, packed a bag, and started for Augusta on Wednesday, so I could be with them that night and there as he left for surgery the next morning. Mark and Rick did the same, all arranging our schedules so we could be there.
While driving, my got a frantic phone call from my mom, sobbing heavily, unable to speak. I immediately thought the worst, that Dad had a heart attack before the surgery, or had died suddenly. But she said, "As soon as we got here, they took him right away into surgery. They didn't want to wait until tomorrow." I said, "Mom, that's a good thing! They are doing this BEFORE he has a heart attack." It had just caught her offguard, and none of us were there yet to be with her. I assured her that all three of her boys would be there, within a few short hours.
I arrived early afternoon, Mark about an hour after me, and we picked Rick up at the airport by 5pm. All of Mom's boys were with her now. As we all waited and talked, the doctor came out and informed us the surgery went fantastic, they would be sewing him up and calling us back soon. Within another hour, we were all allowed back to see him. He was still out, with wires, tubes, IV's, etc. all attached to him. He looked worse than he was, they said. His heart was beating strong on its own, he would be coming to and breathing on his own before the night was over, and likely ready to eat and sit up by the next day.
We all spent the night at local hotel, enjoying some much-needed laughter and downtime. The next morning, Thursday, we were back at the hospital, and he was conversant, but only a little. We took turns sitting with him and talking with him, until the nurses wanted to get him up and moving. We all took a late lunch, roamed a local mall, and when we arrived back at 4pm, he looked like a new man! Sitting up, eating on his own, joking with the nurses and doctors. What a change in just a few hours! It was good seeing him looking better.
Mark and I had to leave Thursday night, but Rick would stay until Saturday. Every day, I've been calling several times, to talk to Mom, and now even Dad, out of ICU and in a private room. They say he will likely go home Monday, and that he is recovering like a man half his age. He's a tough old turkey, and he has taken good care of himself over the years- eating right, exercising, staying active, and avoiding tobacco and alcohol abuse. Clean living has its benefits!
His mom, my Grandma Brooks, died of a heart attack at his age, 72, so Dad has beaten the odds. God is not through with him yet, as he and my mom touch many lives for Christ, everywhere they go. I'm not ready for him to go yet either- too much life left to live together, too many roads yet to ride together. And with this past him, and after what will be a painful recovery at times, the docs said his heart should be good for another 25+ years. I jokingly told him, "Your heart will outlast your mind now!" Not sure he thought that was funny.
Now, if we can just get everyone in my own immediate family well...