Abandoned, packed away, and forgotten.

So for a while I was without a car in San Diego. Not a good place to be. Remember the Missing Persons song “Walking in LA”? Same thing. One day I left a book on the bus. So I called the transit department and was told that they kept them at the Oceanside station. So off I went the next day. When I arrived a woman brought out a box of about 40 books mostly bibles. I asked what they do with them and she said that every couple months or so they would throw them away. Well, I always had need for Bibles so I asked if I could come by and pick them up. I did this for about 3 years. Every couple months I would go by and pick up the Bibles. There were some for other denominations that were translated for their denomination and others that were companion books. Most of those I recycled. Still better than throwing away.

When I moved to Nashville I picked a little orange Gideon’s Bible out of the Bibles I collected mostly because I liked the orange color. I didn’t know at the time it was the Tennessee State color.  It traveled with me on my first and every trip to Nashville but then it was thrown in a box and lived there for about 8 years. It stayed in that box every time I moved. When we were going on the VO trip to Africa Mama Amanda said we should bring a pocket Bible with us. The little orange Bible came to mind so I dug it out and remembered the story of where I found it and how it had been in a box for years.

Off we went to Africa. The first day the group was doing a skit about the Good Samaritan and the narrator, Emily, asked if anyone had a Bible? Really,,, I was with about 20, what I considered real Christians and the only Bible we had was the little orange one. I don’t think Emily liked reading it. It is pretty small after all. I know she didn’t forget to bring one after that. Well on the first Sunday we were able to go to church with Pastor Isaac and as he was preaching he mentioned the Word of God was a weapon. You can use it to shoot Satan, pull it out and defeat the enemy when they attack. He asked if anyone had ever seen one of the little ones the Gideon’s hand out? Well, guess what came out of my pocket ? I will never forget him holstering it in his belt and pulling it out and shooting Satan’s voice, shooting discouragement, shooting lies, shooting anger, shooting evil.

In his belt it would go,

Out it would come and pop, the word would overcome whatever the enemy was sending against us.

Bang, bang, bang,

We were laughing so hard. Cheering, all the time I was thinking about the little Bible, once abandoned,  moved over and over again, often forgotten, packed away, alone, being used again on the other side of the world for what it was created for, encouragement, teaching, healing, laughter and freedom. How often is God’s word just like this? I thought of myself and so many of my friends. How we are so much like the little orange Bible. Just waiting to be picked up, dusted us off, and go.

So in about 5 hours I leave again for Africa. Next to me in the mesh netting of a pocket of my book bag sits a little orange Bible. I really feel like it is smiling, like it is happy to go once again the far reaches of the world. I know this is weird, but I think it knows what it is going to do. I think it always has, I can’t wait to see the rest of the story.

Never even after Ice Cream.

Most people I know now have never seen me smoke. But I did once, in fact, for over 25 years. My dad had given me a drag when I was about 3 or 4 and like most people I got sick. It was horrible. When I was 5 a babysitter had me go into a store and say I needed a pack for my mom who was out in the car. That was a common practice when I was younger, I remember going out behind my house in the bushes and we smoked the pack. The second cigarette is never as bad as the first and I am sure I was a bit love stuck and wanted to look big. I smoked every summer after that. 

At that time everyone smoked. My Mom, Dad, Grandparents, friends, neighbors, and babysitters. Really everyone.  I guess I was about 13 when I started full time. Once again most of the time I could buy them myself or steal them from my parents. I got caught in school a few times but it never stopped me.  Funny thing about smoking, maybe with all addictions, even with no money you find a way to get it satisfied.

It was a part of me. I remember thinking I would always smoke. I didn't care what the outcome was. But one day that changed. My mother was diagnosed with cancer. She had smoked since she met my dad. Her mother had died of Lung Cancer and I had never met her. After my Dad died my Mom up her smoking to 3 packs a day. I remember going by her house in the morning and seeing her smoking with one still lit in the ash tray. We were called to the hospital as she was dying. I entered her room as they were removing the crash cart. She had signed a no heroics clause so after she went they let her. I knew CPR at the time and it may have been the hardest thing I have ever done. Letting my Mom die, knowing I had the knowledge to bring her back but knowing it was not her wish.

After she died I developed a hated of the tobacco industry. Not only had it killed my Mom and Grandmother but me and all my family were addicted and I was not going to let it continue. I started everything I could think of. gum, patches, hypnoses, acupuncture, acupressure, diet, cold turkey, pills, and nothing seemed to work. 

One day while reading through the Bible I came on a passage that said if you are involved in a sin confess it to your brothers have them lay hands on you and you will healed. So I set a meeting with my Pastor and said “Is this what this really means cause I have to quit”. He said “yes” but he didn’t want to take it to the whole church. He knew I was on the worship team and we could do it at a worship night that they held on the last Wednesday of the month.  That was in November.

Well the next worship night was the Day before Thanksgiving so it was cancelled. The next was the week between Christmas and New Years.  So that was cancelled. So at the end of January, at the end of the service, he jumps on stage and asks me if I was ready?

We had not talked about it since that day in November. 

I thought he forgot. 

I forgot. 

I instantly remembered as every cell in my body screamed NOOOOO!!!

I sheepishly said “yes”.

He asked when I wanted to quit.

I said February 1^st.

So we went and stood before the body and he announced “Art has a problem. We all know he smokes and he is having trouble quitting. He has asked that we all pray for him so God hand heal him on the 1^st of February” Then we prayed.

I was pretty stoked. I felt totally energized. I almost couldn’t sleep that night before. God was going to work a miracle. I was going to be part of it.

Then it happened. The worst thing possible. I woke up. Looked over and my pack of cigarettes was still there. I reached over and grabbed one. Lit it and smoked it.

What had happened? Where was God? I did everything I was suppose to, didn’t I? I was faithful wasn’t I? Maybe this wasn’t my problem maybe God didn’t see me? Every time I lit a cigarette that week I had a feeling like this shouldn’t be happening, but it was.

Then came a series of events that completely pissed me off.

Sunday at church a woman from the worship team asked if she could talk to me.

“Art, why did you do that last week?” She asked.“You see I have given everything up for the Lord there was just one thing I was keeping for myself, but I couldn't pray for you to quit if I was still smoking so I have had to quit also.“

“But I am still smoking I said” wishing I had told a lie.

“Well just know I am praying for you.” She said

The next week it was someone from the Drama team. “Art, why did you do what you did at worship night”? They would start.

The next week, Set up, Then Children’s group, Then Youth Group. Every week a different person. Every week a different area of the church, every week I had to admit I was still smoking. I was getting more and more upset. This went on for months. I remember asking a soundman once, “Do you think everyone at this church smokes”?

“They use to” He said.

Fast forward to August, We were having a beach BBQ and Baptism. In North San Diego when the ocean is warm you go out and time what you say between sets and have the water go over you. It’s really pretty cool. Being a smoker did have one benefit, I was always the one who had a lighter for the BBQ.

I was there for a couple hours, We Baptized a few people, Had some great food, I was able to play worship which has also been my favorite thing when Carl asked me to walk with him.

Carl was a Deacon in the church, a towering man 6’5” great heart for God but looked like he could rip your head off, also had a beautiful family. This guy, you knew, was blessed by God.

We walked for about a quarter mile as the sun was sinking below the water to our left before He spoke. “Art.” He began slowly. “I have been a Christian for over 30 years. I have been a leader, a faithful husband, and a good father. I have been doing everything I can to become a man of God.” Slowly he said “but there was one thing I kept to myself.”

Again it started

“My wife and family doesn’t know.”

No, not Carl. Was this anger rising?

“But I have to ask you a question”?

He wasn’t going to say it was he?

“Why did you do what you did last February”?

There it was. Common Art hear him out. I wanted to run and scream

“Because,” he continued, “I could not pray for you while I was still smoking so I have had to quit so I could pray for you.  I have given up the last thing I held out for God”

“But Carl,” I could barely get the words out “I’m still smoking.”

“Well just know Art, many of us at the church are praying for you.”

I do not remember the walk back, I barely remember the packing up to leave, but boy do I remember the drive home. I was Pissed. I do not know if you have ever screamed but that is where I was.

“GOD WHERE ARE YOU”?

“YOU SAID TO CONFESS, I DID.”

“I HAVE MADE A FOOL OF MYSELF.”

“I EXPECTED A MIRACLE.”

“WE NEED TO DEFINE MIRACLE CAUSE CLEARLY YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT ONE IS.”

“WHERE WAS MY EFFIN MIRACLE”

“WHAT AM I SOME KIND OF TELFON COATED SUPER BALL WHERE PRAYERS BOUNCE 

OFF ME AND STICK TO EVERONE ELSE?”

“YOU LET ME DOWN. HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF FAITHFULNESS?”

On and on I went. For about 30 minutes. Cars beside me ran red lights and pulled off the road to get away from the crazy guy. Trust me I was screaming. Words here cannot describe it. As I got closer to my house I had to pull off into a parking lot where I began to cry. “God I really hate smoking, Why won’t you help me?”

After a while as I calmed down. 

I heard “Art I know you wanted me to remove cigarettes from the world, but have you seen the traffic on a Monday? Can you imagine what it would be like if I removed tobacco over night?”

Yeah, I guess that would be pretty bad. I have to admit

“And lets define miracle and faithfulness” He went on. “Do you think you were the only one asked me to quit? Do you think you are the only one hating the addiction of smoking? Do you think you are the only one that I revealed the passage about confessing to the body? No you’re not. You are JUST the only one that DID it. Because of you I was able to answer the prayers of not only the dozens that have talked to you about it but also the dozens that haven’t. Because of the faithfulness of one man I was able to heal a church. Now Art, how would YOU define miracle?”

I was finally quiet.

“One other thing Art, They did something you have never done.”

I was really afraid to ask but I did. “”What was that”?

“They STOPPED smoking.”

OH, there was that. So I have never reached for another one. I have never lit one again. I have never even had a craving. I just stopped smoking.

I remember a few weeks later. I had just finished a bowl of Ice cream and I thought ‘I remember this is when I would want a cigarette.’ No craving, just a thought. That was a long while ago. That was in 1999. 

First time I realized it.

I should start this post by reminding you just how old I am. Specifically that I lived during the civil unrest of the late 60s and 70’s. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard people say “They should ship them all back to Africa.”  I still remember thinking, you don’t ship people, and I don’t think it was their idea to be here in the first place. Knowing this let me tell this part of the journey.

When we returned from Uganda, America’s transportation system was shut down. There where record snow storms everywhere. Nashville was no different. I had not returned to Nashville when I was suppose to but ended up going straight to San Diego and attending the NAMM show in Anaheim.  

When I did finally return to Nashville the streets were clear and I had to go straight to work at the Opryland Hotel the next day. I run audio for Corporate events when not with an artist on the road. They were expecting more snow but later than I was expected to work. My tires in the rear were worn down and I knew I needed new ones. Well, as I do most days, I ended up working longer than I should have and there was a pretty good amount of snow on the ground when I was finally able to leave. I was slipping all over the place but since I only had 4 miles and only one big hill I thought I’d try it.

It wasn’t the big hill that got me. It was the traffic and a small one. I had to come to a stop on an incline because of traffic and there was no way to start going forward and up the hill again. I would give my car gas and my car just went sideways, over 3 lanes of traffic onto the shoulder. I came to rest behind a pickup with his blinkers on, and watched the parade of cars and trucks barely miss me as they had the same problem. I also noticed a steady group of cars pulling in behind me. After about 30 minutes of trying to gain enough traction to start moving I gave up and went up to the truck. I thought ‘If I could get him to move maybe I could get enough momentum to get out of this predicament.’ There was no one there. He had abandoned his truck a long time before I had gotten there.

After going back to my car and deciding this was going to me a long night there was a tap on my window. I opened up my door and an older black man with a cane was standing there. He said, “you know, if you’d move your car son, the rest of us could get out of here tonight.” I had become exactly what the truck was to me.

I told him about the truck and said if 3 or 4 cars behind me could move I could back out and get a running start and maybe get out. So we started with the third car behind me (a white guy) and got him moving. Another person (a black man) joined us and we moved a white lady behind him. We then moved the car behind me.  That person (a black gentlemen) said he would be back to help us. It was then my turn. With the two guys pushing I got enough momentum to get up the hill. Before I tried the guy with the cane said. “When you get up to the top of the hill remember to come back and help us with the rest of the cars.” I have to admit, at the top of the hill, knowing I now had everything I needed to get home I thought about driving on. I had given my word so I stopped on the side safely, and got back into the snow.

When I got back to the hill I saw one of the funniest things I have ever seen. 3 black guys trying to push a UPS box truck. It wasn’t going anywhere. I thought, ‘Really??? You guys are NEVER gonna do that without a Roadie.’ I jumped in and together we moved a freaken huge truck. Then we moved about 5 more cars.

About 30 minutes after I had come back we had moved all the cars and with the peacefulness and quiet you can only find in a snowfall, 3 black men and I walked up the hill to our cars.

The old black man with the cane was the first to speak. “Well I guess we should introduce ourselves after working so hard together. My name is Dan and I am a retired Pastor” He said proudly.

“Where’d you Pastor at” said the man to his right? “My name is Bill and I am a Pastor at ______” as he said the name of his church.

The man to my left then laughed and spoke up “Well my name is Pastor Todd.”

They all stopped and looked at me,

“My name is Art. I’m a missionary. I just returned yesterday from Africa”

“Bet you wish you were there now” said Pastor Bill.

“Yes, I really, really do.” I replied thinking. 'God’s been waiting years for this joke about the 3 black pastors and the missionary from Africa in the snowstorm.'

“Figures” added Pastor Todd, “It would be the men of God to pull together and help everyone.”

“More like men of God pushed together” corrected Pastor Todd

As we walked and laughed up the hill to our cars, with the swagger that men often have after a job well done, I thought ‘yeah, you can ship me back to Africa anytime you want.’

Do they need that?

I have worked in the entertainment industry for a few years now. Mostly at an A level. No matter what area I worked in, music, animation, video games, film TV, theatre they all have one thing in common. At the end of the year, unless you are on a Holiday tour, you are out of work.
In LA we called it the dead zone. There is nothing to do.
I have reupholstered my amplifiers, painted teeth on my (and neighbors) cars, worked part time temp jobs, and just generally hated this time of year.
See I love to be productive.
A couple years ago I was introduced to a group called Visiting Orphans by my friend Autumn. I took a couple trips because, even though I was a teenager when I became an orphan, I have also been unwanted by people I love, my families, and have a heart for orphans. In fact I met Autumn at an orphan Thanksgiving here in Nashville the first year I was here. We all had come from different parts of the county and had no one but each other in the group. There were 8 of us I believe.
This was not the first time I had been in a orphan Holiday. In fact I have spent most of them, and birthdays in fact, with strangers.
I remember one year after my Dad was murdered I was at an Arby's and there was a man and 2 kids, a mother and one child, another single man, and a couple older single women. We were all eating turkey sandwiches,,, alone. So I stood up and asked them to join me. I also told the people behind the counter to put whatever they wanted on my bill and invited them to join us so even they could be part of a Thanksgiving where no one would be alone. The manager didn't charge me and we stayed for a couple hours laughing and telling stories.
Last year I had the opportunity to go to Uganda while the industry was shut down. We went with a group of about 20 and started in Kampala, went to Jimja and I met a young woman named Katie Davis, We stayed at Canaan Transfer House, and finished in Rakai where AIDS started. I also got to help build a school with Rebecca Sorensen back in Kampala.
Every once in a while I was asked what I did. I would explain I was an engineer. The Papas and Mommas would then point out the children who had sponsors for University that wanted to be engineers. I would smile, supporting their dreams and try to give encouragement. They would also put on shows for the Mazungas (white people). I often joined on drums with the children and would laugh at their amazement that a Mazunga could play African drums.
The first Sunday we went to a church that one of the Papas was Pastor at. During the service I asked if I could help with their sound. Which was, well, just south of horrible.
The Pastor looked at me with a look that said, well, lets say the light bulb had just come on, and asked "You are an AUDIO engineer?"
"Yes" I replied.
"Could you teach our older kids to run sound? You see," he continued, "If there is no money to build anything a civil and mechanical engineer and their family will go hungry but a audio engineer, like a musician, will always be able to work."
"I know" I smiled. After all I was 7000 miles on the other side of the planet and working. In fact last year I ran sound on every continent except Australia and Antarctica.
I have known for years that if I was ever dropped in the Sahara Desert and, survived the fall, I would be running sound for a belly dancing show for Bedouin Nomads in 48 hours.
So I have been for the past year trying to raise funds and gear to get back and teach at a couple of the orphanages I was able to visit. I ran into my friend at Country Weekly who works down the hall this week and he asked if that was something they really needed over in Africa?
The answer is yes.
Skills, any and all skills are needed. Even the ones we don't pay any attention to and take for granted.
Like the little boy in the only Christmas song I have ever related to, I have only one gift to give. That is why I am so persistent to return to Africa. Wouldn't it be great if I could teach it all over the world? Funny thing is that he played a drum also.
Well this is it for now. This is my first post. I am going to try to tell a few more stories and hope you will follow my adventures and that I can somehow make a difference in your day and your life motivating you to make difference in others.