Damascus Road

It was an early September night, and the young man was walking down the long dark road near his home. He was actually not high on this night, which was no small miracle. For reasons, he would never understand, but never forget, he walked with an eye toward the stars. He had no particular destination in mind. Perhaps, he might find the right place to get high.

He never fit in anywhere. Always feeling like the outcast, until he discovered the drug culture & free love of subsequent lost souls. He had entered the party life early. Drinking before he was fifteen. Soon afterwards, he discovered his God, in the form of marijuana. In time, every drug of that time he would abuse but strangely never have any addiction problems.

He came to the end of the road that he lived on and turned left. To this day he can show you exactly where he was when it all changed dramatically. The moment when life would never be the same, even in the years that followed, when he tried in vain to forget the reality of that night.

He would never forget the intricate details of that night. First came a whoosh. It was an incredible sensation that ran from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. Then the words. Words that were never thought about or formed in his mind. Strangely, one lone tear ran down his left cheek. He always thought that odd.

"Come & admit you're wrong. Come & sing My glorious song."

He never ceased walking the entire time. It is a few steps later, when he strains to look to the Heavens & ask a question that he already knows the answer to.

"God, is that You?" 

The realization sets in.

"Oh, my God. You are real. All my life I heard You were but You are actually real. Oh, my God."  

He was very naive. He began to tell people of the event, thinking they would know it was true, but eyes began to roll & few wanted to hear it. Surely, the good people at church will love to hear this. Sadly, that was for the most part another dead end. They did not believe in that night, or that his transformation was real. Maybe they thought he was beyond redemption.

He had assumed that what occurred that night was something that happened often.  So, he did not run up an aisle at Church. Does that make it less real?

The dramatic transformation was too much and the frustrations & subsequent horrible decisions he made eventually drove him to curse that night. "Why, did You not just leave me alone?" The biggest lie he began to believe was that that night was little to do with him. It was merely answered prayers for his mom. He knew God loved her enough to answer her prayers about her wayward son, but he did not believe in God's love for him.

It took many years for him to return to God. He still searches for answers concerning that night. Some answers he realizes now. A dear friend, who upon hearing the story for the first time nearly forty years later said about the treatment he received from the people of the church. "I think their behavior says more about them than it ever did about you."

Very recently it dawned on him about these words he heard that night. Sing My glorious song. He grew up in church, where it was more about what you should or should not do. It was not so much about worship. He realized that was what God was saying that night. Worship Me. God wanted him free to worship. Not bogged down in religion.

He thought of something recently about that time of transformation that had not had cross his mind in decades. He was on probation at the time of the Damascus Road. It was several months later when his probation officer called and demanded he be in the office the next day.

He thought it strange but he was not worried & he knew for the first time in years if it was about a drug test he would pass.

The young man entered the office the next day as ordered. The man got right to the point. He had the most spiritual dream. A vision. He wanted to discuss it with the criminal that sat in front of him. Someone that might not think that he was crazy.

That One Thing

We like the illusion of control in our lives, don't we? That is all control is... an illusion. I believe that control factor keeps many of us from turning the wheel of this life completely over to God. It is like we have a list. Okay God, this, this, & that can go, but I need this.

I have shared previously about my cliche of driving down the road & saying, "Lord, You take the wheel. Whatever the path is that you lay out for me I will walk it even if I have to surrender my dreams."  Despite having lived this I still want to take over the wheel at times. Why, I do not know. My Father has proven to be a far more capable driver of my life than I am.

A very wise spiritual woman shared something with me one day I have never forgotten. Carol spoke of someone who was giving nearly every part of their life to God but there was one thing that even though they knew it to be wrong they refused to surrender. That last thing is the one thing many of us will grasp so tightly & we refuse to give it up. We either think it so defines us or maybe we believe we know better than God what we need in our lives. I was the poster child for this behavior. It is pretty arrogant when you think of it, right? I mean to think that any of us know better than the almighty God.

I believe in the light of God without question & I am also very aware of the darkness of this world. Sometimes, it appears as if that is all that surrounds us. It is easy to lose hope. The scriptures are mocked & sadly many churches have succumbed to downgrading the Bible if it dare offend someone. It is Church Lite at its finest. Leaders pat people on the back & tell the congregation what they want to hear. They forget the importance that Jesus placed on scriptures-downplaying it by saying that was for that time. It brings to mind a scripture I read again not too long ago & actually just heard on television when I walked in the kitchen for a protein shake.

2 Timothy 4:3 For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear.


One of my favorite scriptures even when I was far from God is Hebrews 13:8. There was comfort that I could count on Him to remain the same.  


Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.

I wrote a blog over two years ago about how God is the potter & I am the clay. But isn't it human nature to try to spin that the other way? I sure did. I suspect most if not all of us have at one point or another. 


Malachi 3:6 For I the LORD do not change...

Please don't think I am an advocate for fundamental religion that spends more time & energy making sure everyone knows what their church is against. Not so much what it is for.  Big booming voices that like to put on a show.


Sometimes, & I have no excuse for this. I catch myself saying they won't change. This circumstance is too rooted in darkness. Then I hear that whisper. "Have you forgotten how trapped in darkness that you were? Do you remember the lost young man that I appeared to on a lonely dark street one night?"

So if there was hope for me there is indeed hope for all.

That one last thing we cling to so fiercely. I think I know why. Because the evil one knows that once we let go of that he has lost the battle. It is over. So he will bring every thing he can against us.

I hung on to my desire to have the right woman first & to have my dream of being a published author. "Let me have those, God. Then I will surrender." The truth is I would still have hung on to what I wanted even if I found those dreams. I trusted myself more with my happiness than I trusted God.There will always be one more thing to cling to. I now trust God more than I trust myself. I trust my relationship with Him more than I trust rules & regulations. I am a simple man & I continue to believe the more of Jesus I invite to reside in my heart the less I will speculate about rights & wrongs. That tiny voice will guide me. Oh, sure I will get off track during times when it seems I am on earth & God is on Pluto. I felt that way recently. Julie & I were both struggling so much with disappointment. It reached a pinnacle one day when we both woke not wanting to face the day. I have struggled with depression most of my life. Two major bouts almost took my life when I made decisions that left me emotionally exhausted. You know the worse part of those battles? It was that first waking moment when you knew you had to somehow try to manage another day. One night, during the last severe battle of depression in 2001, I parked the car in the garage. I was drunk & listening to Jackson Browne on the CD player. I thought maybe if I just drift off to sleep it won't really be suicide. I don't know if I nodded off or not. I do recall that even though I was so angry at God that I wanted nothing to do with Him that in hind sight he sent to me the one image that would persuade me to shut the engine off & walk inside. It appeared from nowhere. The image of my beautiful son, Micah's face. I did not want to live but I also knew that he might never recover if I did not cut the car off right then. I turned the key & lived for another day, a day when the intense pain & disappointment of this life would fade away. It was not easy & I could not take any medication because I suffered such severe side effects. One day the dense fog rolled out. I lived in fear for a long time that it would return but it never did. Not in that manner or intensity.

So on that morning we woke to despair & disappointment I finally had the good sense to lead my family. I took Julie's hand & we pressed in to God, shutting down the influence of the Enemy. As Julie says, "Are we going to go by what we feel or what we know to be true?" And we know our God to be good & for us & not against us. Since that morning I have slept better than I have in ages. No supplements to aid my sleep. Even afternoon naps have become one of deep sleep.

We, (& please note I say we, not you) love to grab a hold of scripture that makes us feel good. I think a prime example is Jeremiah 29:11. Another thing my wise wife says often is, "We don't get to cherry pick the scriptures."

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.

That sounds awesome, right? What about the two scriptures that follow?

Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart.

Do you ever notice how often the word all is required? All of our heart. All of our dreams. I am not aware of a scripture that says give up this, this, & that & you can keep this.

My Mom, who next Sunday will have moved on to her party in Heaven for two years, use to tell me all the time that God wanted all of me. She was right as she was in many things. She was also the finest example of being Born Again that I knew. We have lost that term for the most part. I find that very sad. Jesus thought it important.

John 3:3 "Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again."

He didn't say if you follow the advice of  your priest or minister that you would see the kingdom of God. He did not say if  you do this, this, and that but not that you would see it. He said you must be born again. Sadly, we have many church leaders that have not experienced the supernatural moment of being born again. They were living life like Mom.  She was in church & she followed the rules & regulations of religion but she lacked relationship. She had a supernatural encounter with God when He showed up during a dark time & she was never the same for the remaining decades of her life. He took up residence in her heart. She admitted things about herself when I will bet you anyone would have said she was a wonderful Christian lady & she was. But she became so much more. As my son, Micah, wrote once. Even in her dementia there was a grace about her that drew people in. She was my hero. She still is.

I have heard people say they have that one more thing & then they will turn it over, or that they were trying to turn it over. It is not something you have to try to do. There is also nothing or no one in this world worth keeping the fullness of relationship with God from you.

I learned that one day when I turned the wheel over as I drove down the road. I tell people often that my vision of that day is that God, turned to the host around Him, & said, "I have his attention. Let's go to work."
And boy did He ever go to work.He knew that I meant what I said. I did not rush up an aisle. I did not go through a series of steps. I simply released. That is all it takes. Surrender all your heart.

That was in January of 2012. By September of 2013 I was enjoying my forth month of marriage with my wife, Julie, who surpassed all my hopes I ever had about a woman. I am not deserving but I also was wise enough to not refuse the gift God granted me with her. That same month I received an email from a traditional publisher offering me a contract for The River Hideaway. A story about two young men, one black, one white, & the friendship that they strike up during the racially charged times of 1967. I wrote most of the story in 1998 & had given up getting published after many rejections. Come on. Even the biggest of skeptics can't see this as anything but God, can you? Truth is indeed stranger than fiction.

And God is greater than all & I am living proof that there is nothing worth clinging too. Not one thing. Don't be so slow like me & waste so many years. I am nearing 60 years of age & sometimes I feel like my life has just begun. Maybe because it many ways it really has.

Surrender....all......

 



























   

Papa Jack

"Good & bad in all. Good & bad in Black...Good & bad in White."

The above quote is attributed to the man in the photo. He was my Grandad, Jack Rogers. Many people referred to him as Papa Jack and that was not limited to family members. The dog in his lap, Tootsie, was my dog but make no mistake she loved Papa Jack more than anyone. I was not even a close second.

Papa Jack wore a white shirt & tie daily as he is in the photo. This was even after he retired in the early sixties from running the Fish Market on Oleander Drive in the community of Sea Gate. He & my Grandmother, Ruth Rogers owned the store together. Those of you that have read The River Hideaway might recall I based the character of Vicky on my Grandmother.    

Papa Jack had little in the way of education and he was a simple man in many ways. Look at the photo again and look at his right hand. That is a Tampa Nugget Cigar. It was also part of his daily routine to enjoy a few of them each day.

There was much racial conflict in this area when I was a boy. Wilmington was in the national news for being placed on curfew after a riot broke out. If memory serves me correctly I believe the National Guard was brought in just as it has been this week in Baltimore.

I lived right across the field from my Grandparents and I often sprinted to spend time with my Grandmother. She was my hero. She still is. 

On this particular night my grandparents were watching the news and I recall seeing fires and racial conflict play out on the little black and white screen. I can't say for certain what event this was. But I do recall with clarity that my Grandad, as he was watching, very simply stated,  "Good & bad in all. Good & bad in Black...Good & bad in White."

I have never forgotten that statement. Very simply stated, true, & full of wisdom. That was how he viewed things. I wish everyone might have seen things that simply.


As a little boy, I don't think I was aware & even if I was I don't know if I would have grasped the magnitude of something my Grandad routinely did as part of his business. He delivered fish to black neighborhoods. He often sat and shared coffee, or a meal.

My sister Kay, the family historian, added another part to this story. Grandad treated all of his customers fairly and that included extending credit regardless of race. 

Mom often remarked that she believed that Grandad truly did not see color. I think considering the times, it is easy to say that is remarkable but I also just believe that it is right.

I was a young man when Grandad passed away. My Grandmother, preceded him in death. One particular memory that brings a smile to me was during my early years as the Park Supervisor for the Town of Wrightsville Beach. I was enjoying a conversation with an older black man, who worked for the Public Works Dept. He was from the area as most of us were back then. We swapped stories of where we grew up and I asked him about the fish market. I don't recall much of the conversation but I do recall what he said when he discovered that I was the grandson of Jack Rogers. "Mr. Jack was your Granddaddy! He was a fine man."

I wish I could write that in my youth I saw no color-that I never joined in nor spoke some of those horrible words that flowed so freely and sadly still do. Deep down I did not hate because of a difference in color but I also was prone to believe some of the stereotypes expressed by those around me.

I have shared liberally that I had a powerful Damascus Road moment as a young man. In the blink of an eye I encountered God, or more likely He encountered me. As I began my often failed walk with Him-from that moment the light went on in my heart I knew without anyone telling me that God did not see color. His love shared equally and gracefully. Nothing else could possibly make sense.

One of the greatest blessings for me is hearing comments from people-even Christians that I know & respect, who have read The River Hideaway. They have said things like it made them question whether they truly believed that hearts have no color.  Were they without prejudice in the eyes of God?

I spoke to a group recently about my novel and I was approached by a man afterwards. He was nice-not contentious in the least. He said he grew up here just as I did but he still believed in separate but equal. He was not angry. He was just sharing and he did so quite cordially.

Later that night my wife, Julie and I discussed this encounter. She had witnessed the entire conversation. I wondered why he felt the need to share his views. Julie looked at it far differently. Jule's viewpoint was yes the man & I grew up here during similar times & obviously we viewed things differently. But maybe, just maybe, the man went  home and thought about the conversation.

Papa Jack did that for me once. He said something that made a little boy think and I have never forgotten it.

Bless the Broken Road

As I pray about the next steps in this writing journey and trusting God, I am at peace with however the road turns out. I have older works and if they get published eventually that is good and if not that is good as well. My main proof reader has read one of those & believes it is better than The River Hideaway. If other works get published I won't be able to say that. The River Hideaway, will always be my baby that I wrote long ago, reworked it several times and then finally was published by a small press.

Being a published writer was a long time dream that only occurred when I stopped placing my dream in front of God. It is hard to release what we want so badly or what we think defines us. We can want something so much that we convince ourselves that God is fueling the dream when it may well be our own desires. Those desires may not be anything bad but if I place them before God it will not be what I hope it to be even if it comes to fruition.

Right now for the first time in nine years I am writing something new. Their are parts that I think are funny if Julie's laughter is any indication. Some of it carries some sadness and though fictional there are elements of true feelings mixed in. There are times like right now when I have to break from it because it derives from too deep a place.

I don't know that I will ever have another fresh idea to write a novel, or I may have twenty more. I did not plan to write, The River Hideaway. It was just an idea that emerged while watching a movie. The other manuscripts I have came to me in similar fashion. I observed something and an idea floated out and once there never left.

I was writing something earlier in this story about the man's wife. This time it was personal and I was seeing Julie. She would love this part. She is on horseback. The man thinks back to their wedding day and the song that they slow-danced too. For us it was Storm, by Lifehouse. That is our song but my song to Julie will always be, Bless the Broken Road, by Rascal Flatts. 

There have been many broken roads in my life and most were because I made poor choices. I had to have what I thought I needed. I asked God for help in situations that deep down I knew He would say no. It was hard to believe through much of the heartache that he had something far better in mind for me than I could ever dream of. He had Julie.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7a47fEuB9vo

God bless the broken road that led me straight to you.

http://www.amazon.com/River-Hideaway-Billy-Beasley/dp/1610091361/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1429223900&sr=1-1&keywords=the+river+hideaway

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-river-hideaway-billy-beasley/1119573858?ean=9781610091367

One Young Man at a Book Signing

This past Saturday, I had a book signing for my novel, The River Hideaway. It was a very good day. There were so many highlights in that first hectic two hours, that if I list them I will surely leave people out.

I signed many copies & in some cases below my name, I also signed them as, 'Coach.' Parents, and in one case a sister, bought my book for a Christmas present for men who I once coached in basketball, when they were boys, aged ten to twelve. One of my favorite players, Stephen Wolff, came in with his girl friend. He shared stories with my wife about what he recalls playing ball for me.

There was a lady that my family holds dear in our hearts, for all the love & care she gave to my mom in those last years consumed with dementia. Tiffany, you are an angel and you hold our families deepest thanks always.


My PR angels, Sharon & Wylene, for continually pushing this little story to everyone you can reach. Robbie, for showing up once again & taking pictures of the event as only you can.

My old friend, Gary Barbee, who came from Pinehurst. Thanks for providing the comedic relief. 

A teacher came that taught me typing in the ninth grade. The ninth grade was the first year I was bused to another school to achieve real integration. Several of my classmates of that time came by Saturday.

More times than not the books were purchased by people for Christmas presents. How do I value that? To be a part of Christmas in homes across the region.

I saw people I had not seen in nearly forty years. But there was one sale that day that resonates the deepest. A young man approached  the table & asked me very directly, "Why did you write this book?"

I shared with him my reasons...my inspirations.

He nodded and said, "I will buy one."

As I was preparing to sign it for him he offered, "I was in the parking lot & I heard two people talking about your book and I just felt like the Lord wanted me to come in here and see you."

He was looking at me eye to eye as he said this. I got goosebumps or as some of us refer to them, God-bumps. We talked a little while longer and I told him that the book has a spiritual theme in it & that it begins with an elderly man having a vision from God.

I thanked him for the encouragement he offered to a no name author, with a small press, struggling to get the word out for this story. I know God is with Julie and I, wherever this goes. But at times I also doubt, worry, & struggle with the things I can't control.

Maybe that is why God reminded me what he could do with one person.

Christmas Relections

Yesterday, as I watched a Christmas movie, the tree beautifully decorated by me. Okay, by Julie but I just wanted to see if you were with me. My peaceful, grateful state of mind and heart led me to pick up my phone and send the following text to Julie. Thank you for making Christmas time happy.

Christmas is a mixed bag of emotions isn't it? There have been many lonely, hurting Christmas times for me and probably for all of you. Some are experiencing it right now. The loss of loved ones. Broken relationships, dreams unfulfilled, heartache, & loneliness. All of these seemingly amplified for the season. There were many years that beginning with my birthday in early November I longed for the resources to be able to pack away to a isolated cabin in the mountains & not return till after New Years Day. The Christmas of excitement and anticipation of my youth had transitioned to a time of year I truly hated. Many years I put my energy into trying to persevere for a small child's sake. Some years the darkness of depression was so great that I came up woefully short.

This is a Christmas where two of my biggest dreams come to pass.  This is Julie & my third Christmas together. Our second as husband and wife, and so very much more. I use to dream and wonder will my novel be under someone's Christmas Tree next year. I will wonder no longer. That will happen in many homes. One thing I have understood long before I turned the wheel of my life over to my Father is that I know without question that it is the simple things in life that are truly what matters. It is not the mansion on the hill. It is not gifts of the latest fashion and technology trends.  It is what and who we hold dear in our hearts. My favorite scripture even during the years I rarely picked the Bible up has been and still is, Luke 12:34. For where your heart is... there lies your treasure as well.

Teaching the word is not something I am equipped to do. So forgive my uneducated interpretation of this scripture... Don't get bogged down in the things of this life that are just so much fluff. Hold on to what is dear. Those that you love. Those that you can encourage. Enjoy the simple things of life. They really are more than all things that glitter.

Yesterday, I met an older man at the gym. He shared with me that he was at a diner he often visits for breakfast. There was a young girl who often waits on him. He could tell she was upset and he asked why. He did not share all the details of their conversation but he did tell me that she told him that she has a small child and a husband in prison. He listened and he hugged her and told her he loved her. He showed her real Christianity.

I have a dear friend who has struggled gracefully with cancer this year. He is now cancer free. He was encouraged by many and he shared that being an encourager is the greatest gift of all.

So for many of us this is a great time of year. But many will be going through difficult times. If we truly believe that God resides inside of us, let us find some way to encourage those that are lonely, hurting, lost. Let's don't pass them by in search of the perfect gift that does not really exist.

I share this last thing with you not to brag on myself for a simple text. But I would be willing to wager that in the years to come that my wife might not recall the gifts I gave her this Christmas but I bet you she will remember the text I sent.

Think about it... 

Merry Christmas to all of you. May God bless and comfort you during this season. He really does loves you.

7 Hour Coffee With Julie

Two years ago my life changed with a simple invitation for coffee. We had talked about getting together for coffee previously, but I never followed through. This woman I met at church was several years younger. She was 38 and I was one week shy of turning 56. I know. This is the part where you roll your eyes and say, "Sure, younger woman. That is just what all men want."

But to me this was a lot of age difference. Do you do what I often do? You doom things as a failure before you even get to the place to find out what is in store. Each time we talked the conversations were so easy. You know that feeling like you have talked for an hour when it seems not even ten minutes have passed? It was that way each time.

I told one person, my little sister Katie,  that I was meeting a young lady at Hugh MacRae Park for coffee. I followed this up with one of my astute questions.  "I don't know if coffee is just coffee or is it something else?" She lightened the mood with a quote from one of our favorite movies, Goodwill Hunting, by Matt Damon.

Great, or maybe we could get together and just eat a bunch of caramels. When you think about it, it's just as arbitrary as drinking coffee. 

I think after that she said, "Just go have coffee." I comforted myself by thinking that coffee was probably just coffee and someone wanting to talk about God with me. There is no way this young, pretty, genuine, warm, woman had an interest in me.



We met at the Park by the pond area. Early in the conversation she told me something from my Facebook Page. She had been snooping and I called her out on it. She smiled and said, "Yes, I did. I wanted to know what your friends said about you." Well, this was more than coffee or eating a bunch of caramels.

Three hours later she asked what time it was and I looked at my watch. It was one o'clock. We both thought that maybe thirty minutes had passed. Coffee led to lunch. It was near five that afternoon when we parted ways. Today it is referred to with a smile as the, "Seven hour coffee."

I had a lot of failed relationships in my past. Some that I walked away from and some that walked away from me. A couple of them hurt deeply. Horace Hilton once told me that rejected love was among the most difficult event one could know in this life. I'm certain that as a minister for decades he saw much of it.

Sometimes in the quiet of night as Julie sleeps soundly, I will look at her and I can't believe that God sent someone into my life that not only loves me when all is well. I have had that many times. She loves me when that dark hole starts pulling at me. She fights for me. She sees more good in me than I ever do. 

And as I whisper my thanks to God. I thank Him also for the broken relationships that I thought I needed so badly. I thank Him for the heartache, as difficult as it was. Because Julie, exceeds all the dreams I ever had in a woman. And that is no small feat.


Happy Anniversary Baby. October 26 means as much to me as April 6 does, maybe even more. I got out of the way and took a chance at coffee. I could not be happier with that decision.

Love,
Billy

I have become a fan of late of the music of Rascal Flatts. This one sums up this little blog better than I could.