Get a Room

Simply Amazing Tornado Account

This is the incredible account of the pastor/runner (my kind of minister!) who encountered the tornado on Good Friday "quite first hand." It is a little long, but oh, what a story. He describes the actual eye of the tornado as he is horizontal to the ground.

I am doing a wedding at his church this weekend (Chariti Law's) and hope to see him. I've got 1000 questions for him. And we might even talk some about running!

Enjoy. Be inspired. Be grateful for the God he speaks of.

Angels Performing Ballet - David Young

Angels performing ballet. Unbelievable, I thought. This can't be real. I was lying on
my side wrapped around a tree like a koala bear looking straightup into the eye of
an F-4 tornado. And the debris at the top of the funnel looked just like angels
gracefully performing ballet.

How ironic. Those few seconds in the eye of the tornado may have been the
most peaceful seconds of my life. It felt transcendental and sweet.
That is, until the back wall of the tornado slammed against me, hurling two-by fours,
trees, and sheet metal at 200 miles per hour.

Here I was caught on the trail in the middle of a tornado. It was Good Friday, and
my mind was distracted. A minister for a large church in Murfreesboro, Tennessee,
a few miles south of Nashville, I was thinking about the Easter
program that had required so much preparation over the last several months.
I should have been thinking about the Resurrection itself, but I confess that, instead,
I was obsessing over the details of the upcoming service. We were hoping for 2,000
people at church, and there were so many things that could go wrong. It had been an exhausting week of preparation, and I just kept going over the program in my head.

What I needed, I decided to myself, was a good workout. I hardly paid attention to the weather reports this Good Friday. The broadcasts since last night had indicated that storms were expected to blow across Middle Tennessee around lunch time. At around 11:00 that morning a local traffic reporter had warned Nashville to eat lunch early
because of approaching storms. A tornado warning had even been issued 60 miles northwest of Nashville.

Most people knew to stay off the trails for the next several hours. I should have
known too. But I really needed to run, and somehow I convinced myself that the storms were all north of Murfreesboro.

I've been a runner all my life, though I rarely run competitively. I mostly run to
manage my weight, to relieve stress, and to talk to God. Last fall I had trained for a marathon, but two weeks before the event, I accidentally swallowed a fish bone
and ended up spending a week in the hospital with abdominal surgery for an acute abdominal infection. Recovery after that had been slow, and I was down from
running 35 to 40 miles per week to running 15 miles or so. I was determined to
build back up to a respectable distance.

Today was going to be a good run. In spite of the warnings, the weather felt
great: mid-60's and overcast. My energy level was up. My motivation was high.
It was my day off, Easter was approaching, and I was eager to run off some stress. I intended to spend time in prayer, which I do in the form of an inner dialogue with
God pretty much every time I run. My prayers sometimes take the form of memorizing Scripture or merely offering thanksgiving. More frequently, however, they take the
form of character discussions with God. I talk to God about my weaknesses,
and together we develop strategies for helping me to mature. I often preach to
myself as I run, lecturing myself on the need to be stronger, more disciplined,
and more like the One I follow.

I drove to my favorite running spot, a paved greenway that meanders four and a
half miles along the Stones River in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. Stones River is a
small river, but it has a big history. It was here that one of the largest battles in the
Civil War was fought a century and a half ago. Ninety thousand soldiers slugged
it out on New Years Eve 1862 and on New Years Day 1863, as Federal troops continued their slow push towards Chattanooga, and, eventually, Atlanta, Savannah,
and the Atlantic Ocean.

A hundred yards from where I parked my car on Good Friday the battle had ended on January 2, 1863, as thousands of Confederate troops forded the frigid river and tried to climb the western bank, only to be slaughtered by Federal canon, canister,
and grapeshot. Twenty-three thousand soldiers fell fighting for this river.

The modern greenway was opened in the 1990s and is a popular place for the
people of Murfreesboro. Any given day you can find people walking their dogs,
bicycling, strolling with friends, fishing, or running. When I parked my car and
began my run, it was a couple minutes after noon, and there were several others
on the trail walking. I had run six miles on the treadmill the day before, so I planned
to keep it to a gentle four miles today. I was wearing a headset, a white headband, my favorite running shorts, and a new rain jacket.

The rain jacket was important, because I had just bought it in response to a near
disaster that my buddy, Thad, and I had experienced backpacking a couple months
before. We are winter backpackers, because we don't like heat. We had gone up into the Smoky Mountains on a four day backpacking trip back in February. It rained the
whole way up the mountain on the first day. We arrived at camp just as the darkness
came and as the temperature dropped to dangerous levels. A windstorm suddenly
blew in, and all my raingear failed. By the time Thad managed to build a fire (against all odds), I was slipping into hypothermia in the freezing temperatures. I couldn't stop shivering, and for
ten minutes or so, I hovered as near to panic as I've ever been. By the next morning,
I was mad at myself for being so ill-prepared after years of winter backpacking.
I was even angrier with myself for feeling panicked.

When I got home, I decided to buy the best raingear I could afford, but I also
decided that, of all people, a minister ought not to panic, regardless of the
circumstances.

I began to talk to God about trust, and I began to read about others who had survived extreme circumstances. I looked inward and asked myself whether or not I have what it takes to manage an extreme situation. I have the kind of brain that can obsess over such matters (I get that from my dad, and I've passed it on, I'm sorry to say, to my son).
So, I began to role play disasters in my head every single day. I began to tell myself,
every day for the last couple months, that I will never go down without a fight. I made a commitment to God and to myself that I will stay calm if ever confronted with disaster.
I will trust God, act smart, and be a man. For me, this commitment was not an act of
strength; it was a confession of weakness.

So, even as I left my car for my four mile run, I wore my new rain jacket
thinking about the severe weather I had endured in the mountains a few months before.
As I approached the trail I mumbled something to God about the possibility of rain: let it rain, God. Together, we're strong.

Before the hour was over, the jacket wouldn't make much difference, but the
commitment to be a survivor helped me make just the right moves. Through my commitment to be calm God probably saved my life.

The first two miles of my run were uneventful. I wasn't in a hurry, so I was
clipping along at about six miles per hour. At the end of the second mile, I made a
u-turn to begin working my way back to the car. As soon as I turned around,
a gentle rain began to fall. I pulled my hood over my head and kept going.
Thank you, Lord, I continued in my fixation, for my new rain jacket.

After several minutes, however, the sky began to look ominous, and it began to hail.
I kept running, but I noticed that nobody else was anywhere near the greenway.
I was on the most popular part of the trail all alone. Being alone gave me an eerie feeling -did everyone else know something that I didn't know?

The hail continued to fall, but the hailstones were not that large, maybe the size of dimes. I was surprised that it didn't hurt when the hail hit my body. I can run in this, I thought.

When the lightning started, however, I grew cautious. The first few lightning
strikes were a mile or two away (I counted the time between the flash and the sound). Within a minute or two, however, the lightning was right overhead. I was in trouble,
and I knew it.

I had been thinking about survival in extreme circumstances every day for two
months. Here is my first test, I thought. Lightning may strike near me, but I can beat it if
I position myself in the right place. I'm going to get a real test of my new survival skills,
I thought. Okay, Lord, let's test my commitment. I was actually pumped.

The first mile marker on the Stones River Greenway lies directly behind
Thompson Lane-a heavily traveled road in Murfreesboro lined with businesses,
offices, an auto garage, gas stations, and apartments. The parking lots of two of these businesses, the Greenway Office Building and the Stampede Saloon look down on
the trail, which is about 15 feet below, but separated by a jumble of trees and bushes.
From the trail to the river is another 10 foot drop off, also separated by a jumble of
trees and bushes. If it weren't for the trees, you could probably throw a rock into the
river from the parking lots above.

Across the river is an established neighborhood on a rise of another 20 feet or so.
The houses in this neighborhood are some distance from the river, and separated
by tall, majestic trees.

When the lightning began to strike overhead, I left the trail and climbed down the bank
to within a few feet of the river, crouching beneath some bushes. I was careful to keep
my feet together and plant my hands on the ground, so as to create a circuit in the event that lightning struck near me. I was actually feeling pretty smart, and I was confident
that the storm would blow over in a couple minutes, leaving me feeling good about my survival instincts. I thanked God for keeping me calm. I remember watching a stream of water trickle down the side of the bank, creating tiny waterfalls over the leaves and mud before finally reaching the river. I remember being proud that my jacket was keeping the water out. No big deal, I thought. I'm going to be fine.

Suddenly, after four or five minutes, the rain and hail stopped. It was odd-the
rain didn't slow down; it just stopped, all of the sudden. After ten minutes of lightning,
of rain, of wind and hail, the silence was disturbing. But, hey, I thought, at least the storm was over and I could continue running. I stood up to climb back onto the trail.

When I stood up, however, something didn't seem right. To this moment I cannot say
what I felt, but I knew in my gut that something was wrong. I don't remember if the wind
was blowing, and I don't remember much of what the sky looked like. Actually, I couldn't see much of the sky. I could see the trail, which was about eye level, and I could see the wooded slope leading up to the parking lots, but I couldn't see the horizon beyond that.
In the distance I heard a low rumble.

The L&N railroad runs pretty close to the greenway at mile one, but my gut told me
that the rumble I heard was not a train. It sounded like a train ... I mean just like a train,
but somehow I knew that it wasn't. So I stood there for a minute, maybe even more, listening and hoping the rumble wouldn't get louder. But it did. It got much louder.

At this point, I feel like I should confess that I was terrified, but the truth is that I
wasn't really scared. Events were unfolding too quickly for me to feel much fear.
Besides, I had been talking to God for forty minutes about my ability to survive in any circumstance. So, rather than fear, I felt this adrenaline rush and this intense sense of challenge-my survival skills are going to be tested, I thought. This will be good for me.

I actually felt some bizarre sense of appreciation that God was going to allow my
faith to be tested in an extreme way. I know it sounds crazy, but all I could think of was
how I wanted to pay close attention to what happened next so I could learn more about survival to pass on to my church. I was thinking that after I survived, I would be able to share what I learned with others, and maybe help someone else survive.

Don't get me wrong- I was not thinking about glory or fame. Rather, I was thinking
that this disaster would give me a great testimony about the power of God as well
as giving me lessons on survival that I could share with others. I was thinking that I
could write about the story and share it with other backpackers to help them develop survival skills.

Ever the preacher, I was thinking that I could use my experience in sermons to
encourage Christians to face cancer, loss, or even death with trust. God will take
care of me, I said to myself. I can survive. And I really believed it. I think I nervously
giggled at the strangeness of the situation. I never once thought of death.

The rumble was very loud by now, and I heard cars honking, metal screeching, and transformers exploding. Dude, I said jokingly to myself, you're in a tornado. This is even bigger than Backpacker Magazine. You're gonna be on Oprah. It sounds flippant now,
but at the time, humor was my way of staying in control of my emotions, and it worked.

Panic is the number one killer in survival situations. Presence of mind, a sense of
purpose, and even humor are often the very elements that determine who will live
and who will die in the midst of a disaster. By talking to God, by looking for a lesson
to be shared with others, and by kidding myself, I was able to stay calm and to act
smart. By the grace of God, staying calm and acting smart probably kept me alive.

When I heard the transformers exploding, I had five seconds to decide what to do.
I quickly looked around at the options. Bunches of trees, the river, a small dock built
by the park service jutting out into the water. Nothing else. The nearest tree of size
was a few feet away. I quickly wrapped my arms around it at the base, laid on the
ground, curled my body around the trunk, and looked up to monitor the situation.
I asked God to forgive me of my sins, then, mumbled something like "let's get it on!"

Within two seconds I saw the first pieces of debris flying over me. They were
topping the trees above the trail, coming from the direction of the parking lots. I was impressed by how much debris there was and how fast it was traveling. It looked
like it had been shot from a canon.

Then I heard the cracking of wood; not a little bit, but the sound of an entire
forest being split at once. It is not a sound that you can ever forget-wood from a whole forest violently exploding. If you can imagine ten thousand baseball bats being wildly broken at the same time, you will know what I heard.

I checked my grip on the tree, and thought to myself, "Here she is!"

Immediately afterwards, I saw the wall of the tornado top the crest of the slope
and slam into me. The sound was amazing, and the power incredible. Everything around me, including the ground, was shaking. I could feel my tree groaning as it was trying to leave the ground. The whole forest heaved. Debris was crashing all around me. Static electricity made my hair stand on end. I saw what appeared to be a house fly right
over my head, past the river and off into the wild.

Though I had curled myself around the tree, the tornado picked up my legs and
extended my body into the wind. I suppose my adrenaline was working properly,
because I never lost grip of the tree, even though my body was now off the ground
flapping in the wind like a flag. I never thought I'd lose my grip; I was determined that
I would not fail this test. I wanted to make God proud of me. I kept thinking that I
needed to document the experience in my mind so I could help others. I never
closed my eyes.

The front wall of the tornado was bad, but when it passed, I found myself in the
strangest world I've ever seen. I was in the eye of the tornado, and I knew it.
I dropped back to the ground and instinctively curled around the tree again.
A lot of debris was still shooting across the river, firing across my line of sight like
meteors. But now I also saw debris spiraling inside the vortex of the tornado.
Close to me, it was traveling at lightning speed, racing around and around just
like you'd expect.

But farther up, along the inside of the funnel, the debris was moving slowly,
gracefully, almost playfully at the top. It wasn't circling; it was dancing, up and
down more than from side to side. I don't know how far up I could see, but it seemed
like miles. A strange light illuminated the inside of the tornado. It was totally surreal.
It was peaceful, calm, and, I hate to say it, incredibly happy. I fancied that angels were performing a ballet just for me at the top of heaven's ladder.

So this is what's inside a tornado, I remember thinking. It is not possible to describe the feelings you get in the eye of a tornado. There is such a mixture of primal feelings-blood pulsing, mouth drying, eyes focused, heart racing, muscles taut. Everything that
has been you, in my case for 48 years, comes down to one infinite point and freezes;
your breathing calms and your mind seems to step out of your body and look around in amazement. You notice the smallest details: a leaf blowing past, a small sound, the
strange illumination inside the vortex. You watch the inside of the funnel as though you were watching a movie. There's a strange sense of detachment.

And you feel, at the same time, both all alone and totally immersed in the love of God.
I mean that literally. In the eye of the storm, there is no one else, and as far as you
can tell, the entire world is now gone. Nothing looks familiar, and you sense that
you have already died and gone to heaven. The peace, the beauty, and the
overwhelming view up the vortex above all lead you to feel an intimacy with God.

I felt loved in the eye, and even now that feeling moves me to tears. It's like going
to heaven and seeing the book of Revelation. It's like waking up in Alice's Wonderland, Deep Space, and your mother's womb all wrapped into one. There is no yesterday, no tomorrow, and no worries. Just peace, calm and incredible beauty. In the eye of the
storm, you may not even be you any more.

To be in the eye of the tornado is unforgettable. I want to say to anyone who has lost a loved one to a tornado that, chances are, your loved one died far more peacefully
than you think. Inside the storm the love of God is more intense than you can ever, ever, ever imagine. It is calm, peaceful, and overwhelmingly safe. Your loved one died in the loving arms of God, and I guarantee you that they knew it.

Being in the eye makes you thankful to God, and I remember murmuring some
words of gratitude, at least in my heart, if not with my mouth. I was thankful for
the three seconds-or was it an eternity?-that I spent in the eye of that storm.
Grateful, that is, until the back wall of the tornado hit me. The front of the
tornado had been violent, but the back was even worse. Best I can tell, the front
of the tornado had picked up trees and broken off large branches. Now the back of the tornado began to drop them all around me. Debris was slamming everywhere.

Though I had been in the tornado only 10 seconds or so, it already seemed like a
long time. The peaceful feeling quickly dissipated; now I had to ride out the worst.
I remember thinking, "almost over; hang on; you're going to make it!"

Meanwhile, stuff was dropping all around me. Two trees fell on me; I saw the
first one coming. I remember thinking it was odd because it fell backwards away
from the river. Most of the debris was flying across the river. The trunk was
robably 5 or 6 inches in diameter, and it landed on my left leg, just above my ankle
(which was curled up behind my bottom). I saw it hit me, but didn't feel anything.
I think I was too pumped. Immediately afterwards, a second tree fell on me from above.
I didn't see this tree coming. When it landed, it was on top of my body, and must have hit my head, since later I would discover a deep gash above my left ear. I didn't feel any pain.

Then, just as quickly as I saw the tornado come over the rise, I saw it cross the
river and leave. The back of it looked almost like a curtain; it was distinct. You could
see where it began and where it ended. I remember as it crossed the river water danced upward, like a million little dancing fountains in Las Vegas. I watched the tornado
move up the opposite bank into the trees and towards the neighborhood behind the woods. Then it was gone.

For me, the storm was over. I lay there a little while to make sure that there was
no residual debris following it. I couldn't see much because of the trees on top of me,
but I just kept thinking "I survived! I'm a survivor! We did it, God!" I remember giggling
and saying thank you to God over and over again.

As soon as I knew the storm was gone for sure, I wanted off the greenway fast.
To get off, I had to climb out of the trees that were on top of me. It only took a moment.

But, when my head emerged from the top of the downed trees, I stopped in my
tracks. There before me, where only 30 seconds before had been a beautiful woods,
lay the remains of a nuclear explosion. You've heard it before, but until you see the destruction caused by a tornado, there simply are no words to describe the view.

Everything was destroyed. The trees were twisted, mauled, tangled over the ground.
Huge sheets of metal were wrapped around many of them. Two by fours with
jagged nails were lying everywhere. Entire sections of buildings, roofs, glass, twisted pieces of who-knows-what were everywhere. I gulped and realized that this was serious. Very serious. If anyone else was in this storm, I realized, they were probably dead.
From what I could see, I assumed that the entire city of Murfreesboro had been
wiped out. My heart sank.

I couldn't walk on the trail, either to the left or to the right, as the debris was
piled ten or fifteen feet high. So I climbed through the debris up the slope towards the parking lots I knew were above me. It took only a few minutes (I was really,
really motivated to get off that trail).

When my head emerged above the slope, all I could see was devastation.
A three story office building to my left had lost the top floor and half of
the second. Directly in front of me a pile of trailers was stacked 20 or 30 feet tall in
a twisted, smoking pile of angry destruction. Live wires and cables were everywhere,
as were trees, broken telephone poles, and tons of debris.

My first instinct was to run to the office building to check for survivors. I assumed
that if anyone had been in the building, they were probably dead. It is hard to
describe how bad it looked. As I began to walk, however, I stumbled. I didn't realize
that I had been hurt. My left leg was beat up badly, and the gash on my head was
bleeding. I was wearing a white headband, and though I hadn't seen any blood,
it was filling with blood (as well as mud from the storm).

Circling in the parking lot were four immigrant workers. I don't know why they
were there; I assumed that they had been landscaping nearby and ran over to
check the same building I wanted to check. When they saw me, their faces grew white.
I could tell by the looks on their faces that I must have looked bad, though, again,
I didn't feel any pain. One of them ran towards me, and as I took a step towards him,
I fell. I think I was in a mild form of shock, though I never lost my awareness.
He picked me up, threw my arm over his shoulder, and carried me towards a couple of pickup trucks that were pulling up at that moment. I asked him his name, but we
were both in such shock that Ican't remember if he even answered.

"We've got to go to that building and check for survivors." That's all I could say
as several men gathered in the parking lot. One of them was a rescue squad responder, who was putting on a firefighter's uniform as quickly as possible. "I'm going in
with you," I yelled out. "No, sir, you are going to the Emergency Room. You are hurt."
We argued for a few seconds, as he continued to put on his uniform. Finally he put his hand on my chest, as if to threaten me, and yelled. "You're injured and you're
going to the Emergency Room right now. End of story."

A couple of guys from a landscaping business had pulled up in their truck.
Turning to these guys, he asked them if they would take me to the ER. "Of course,"one said. "Get in the back of the truck," he ordered me. I must still have been pretty
disoriented, because I stumbled around trying to figure out what he meant by
"back of the truck." I fell again, though I couldn't figure out why I kept stumbling.

The truck had a double cab, and they put me in the back seat. As we hurried off
towards the local hospital, we turned onto Haynes Drive, a heavily traveled road
dissecting one of Murfreesboro's largest clusters of neighborhoods, including my own.

We got a couple miles before we saw debris on Haynes-terrible debris. Trees were
down, huge chunks of houses were scattered across the road, telephone poles
snapped in two. It looked horrible. Only later would I find out that a beautiful young
woman and her nine week old baby had just been killed on Haynes Drive only a
moment after the tornado had shaken me. Haynes Drive was completely blocked by mounds of wreckage. We had to find another route to the hospital.

We drove around for a few minutes trying to find a way to get through the neighborhood
to the other side of town, where the hospital is located. The men who were driving me
to the hospital were anxiously trying to call their family members, but most of the cell towers were jammed. We only managed to get a few calls through. Because my wife and kids ere, unbeknownst to me, crouching in the back of a grocery store seeking shelter from the same tornado, which they saw from only a few yards away, they were unable to answer their phones. For thirty minutes, we were out of contact, but I wrongly
assumed that they were safe far on the other side of town, so I wasn't worried
about them. I only wanted to tell them where I was so they wouldn't worry about me.

Later I found out that they were all praying for me. Incredibly, my thirteen year old son, Jonathan, was anxiously pacing the floor of the store while a tornado was directly
over his head, praying over and over again that God would save me. What others
would call "luck" in my survival, I credit to their prayers.

It took some time, but eventually my new found friends pulled up to the ER. I opened the door of the truck and fell out again onto the pavement. During the truck ride, my head
had begun to hurt a little, but I still couldn't figure out why I kept stumbling. I remember a handful of emergency personnel at the entrance of the ER; several picked me up and
put me into a wheelchair. When they wheeled me in, a lineup of ER staff members
stared at me with wide-opened eyes. They had already been told to expect the worst,
and I was their first patient.

It wasn't until they rushed me back to a cubicle and removed my clothing that I
realized why everyone looked at me in amazement, as well as why I kept stumbling.
My white headband was bright red, soaked in blood. My clothing had blood all over it.
Soon the sheets on the hospital bed would have mud and blood on them. The gash
in my head was pretty bad; all the way to the skull, and requiring 7 or 8 staples to stop the bleeding.

My leg looked awful-bloody, cut up, and quickly swelling to a large size. Oh, I
thought, this is why I keep falling. I had a concussion and my leg was badly bruised,
but I knew in my heart that I was okay. I knew that God had saved me; that I had lived through they eye of a tornado, that two months of prayers about trust had been
answered in a massive way. Odd, but I felt euphoric; I couldn't stop laughing.
The morphine and the hydrocodone only made me more animated. I joked with the
ER staff, who seemed more stressed than I was (they weren't on morphine).

I tried to encourage them to wheel me over to the side and prepare for an onslaught of seriously wounded people, but they were too professional and too kind to do that.
Every one of them was super nice to me. Two different women, both named Jennifer,
were especially kind to me; I remember thinking that Jennifer was going to be one of
my new favorite words. I felt as though we were all in this together. I know I must have talked their heads off. All I could say, over and over again, was "I survived a tornado.
Can you believe it? I was in the eye of a tornado. And I survived!"

I went home from the hospital with dear friends, who prepared dinner for me
while my family went to see if we still had a house. Incredibly, our house didn't have a single shred of damage or debris, even though scores of houses all around us were
hit by the storm. By eight o'clock I was home with my family. We had no electricity,
but we had all survived. God is awesome, we agreed, before saying goodbye to the
wildest day of our lives.

The Good Friday tornado was one of the worst storms ever to strike
Murfreesboro. To this date, no one is even sure how many tornados touched down in Murfreesboro. Were there two? Even three? The tornado that caught me cut a 23 mile
path through Rutherford County, sometimes as wide as half a mile. Experts estimate
that the tornado measured four on the Fuchita scale (an "F-4" tornado) when it
passed over me; that's a "Devastating Tornado packing winds between 210 and
260 miles per hour" according to the National Weather Service.

Over 800 businesses and homes were damaged by the tornado, scores of them
completely destroyed. Fifty-one persons were treated for injuries, some severe. Two precious people lost their lives. I suffered a concussion and a beat up leg. Thirty eight million dollars worth of damage was inflicted on our community.

But Tennesseans have a knack for bouncing back. The very next day, literally
hundreds upon hundreds of people roamed the neighborhoods with chainsaws,
shovels, food and water, helping neighbors clean up. A hundred-fifty people from my church gathered at 8:00 a.m. and spent the day helping their neighbors. To date,
there has not been a single incident of vandalism. Instead, everyone is pulling together
to help each other out. Our community has come together. We're going to be okay.

Easter Sunday, 2009, was one of the prettiest Sundays I've ever seen. The weather was cool, the sun was beautiful, and the sky was perfect blue. It was an Easter unlike any
other in my life.

I had already planned to talk about the Resurrection, but now I had felt it.
God raised me on Good Friday.

Our church had 2,307 in attendance, shattering our old attendance record. Across
the stage we had over a hundred lilies, looking a lot like angels in front of the empty
tomb. And there I was, hobbling onto the platform with my brother ministers,
surrounded by the white heralds of spring, proclaiming that, no matter how dark
the storm may seem, Christ is Risen!

David M. Young
Pulpit Minister at North Blvd. Church of Christ
Murfreesboro, Tennessee
April 14, 2009

A Tornado Perspective from Which 'Wich

I don't know if you have ever been in a tornado or not - or if you have ever had to go to your "safe place" when one passes by. We have had to a couple of times and it can be quite scary.

We really don't have much of a safe place at our home. We have on occasion, however, spent some time in our hall bathroom - our safest of the not-so-safe places.

On Good Friday, we almost had a ringside seat for the tornado. We were in the sandwich shop Which 'Wich on The Avenue, just across from one of the tornado touchdowns was - about a quarter of a mile away. We knew it was close when the people standing at the door of Which 'Wich were looking out and everyone starting pointing at something in the sky. The weather report on the tv monitor inside said the tornado would pass over the 'Boro at 12:36pm. I looked at my watch and it said 12:35pm.

About that time the management (who did an excellent job throughout the whole ordeal) told us to all get in the back. He didn't have to say that to my wife and daughter a second time. We all "jumped" to the back and around the corner, out of direct flight of anything that might come from the front window. (Of course I grabbed my sandwich on the way! Natalie gave me such a hard time about that later on.)

And there we were, about 15-18 of us in close quarters for a half hour or so. Customers and employees altogether waiting for the sound of a train, the breaking down of building materials. Perhaps shattering and flying glass. Maybe just a huge roar.

Nothing like that was felt or heard. Just the constant sound of rain. Hard rain. Then hail.

Then a quick stopping of everything. Then more rain and hail again.

Off and on. And off and on.

It is a unique phenomenon in a situation like that, being grouped with strangers. It's funny how there is an almost immediate sense of community, like we are from different walks of life but for now we are all in this together. Someone says something to someone else they don't know and then everyone feels free to join in the conversation.

Like this: The power went out just before they moved us to the back. One of the grade school boys was about to cry from fear. I wanted to provide a bit of comic relief, so I said to the group, "My major concern was when the power went out I couldn't get another refill on my drink." The group laughed some. (I eventually got a free canned drink out of it!) Others started speaking and the mood lightened just a bit.

I reflected on our experience later and thought about the crowd at the restaurant just before the storm hit - and during the storm - and afterwards. We were strangers, then rather close, then resumed our individual lives shortly after the storm. The crowded hallway episode taught me that yes, we are different yet in times of stress and crises we are very much alike.

So when you are in a restaurant, or in a Kroger, or a Dillard's or Old Navy, look at the crowd and know that in the midst of their difference from you, they all have many of the same needs that you have. A need for safety, for example - both physical and spiritual.

As Greg Nelson wrote in a song long ago, People Need the Lord. We all have that need. Pray for that crowd you see. Ask the Lord what you can do - in deed or perhaps just in the way you articulate your prayer for them. Obviously pray for those who were affected by the storm. (I am proud of LifePoint for their response to the people who so quickly and violently came in need of help. I love my church and the Lord we serve.)

Many stories continue to come out of the Good Friday storms of middle TN. This is a simple one compared to many of them. What did you experience and what did you learn out of the storm of Good Friday? Please let me know.

Finally, I hope you have read the story of the pastor who was running on the Greenway when the tornado literally run over him. His survival and lessons he learned were absolutely amazing. I will try to find it for you and post it if I can.

Later.

 

Another Great Loss in America - and a Gain for Heaven

The homegoing of Paul Harvey was a sad loss for me personally. This was a truly great commentator. Yes he was conservative for sure, yet Harvey knew how to touch the heart of America with his down home wit and wisdom.

My favorite type of Paul Harvey material came from his patented "The Rest of the Story". I have read two books of his compilations of those broadcasts: Paul Harvey's the Rest of the Story and More of Paul Harvey's the Rest of the Story. You would enjoy them. They are a combination of mystery, romance, humor and history - more lasting no more than 2-3 pages my kind of chapters!) For example, one starts out "I bet you thought you had heard all of the stories about Abraham Lincoln, but I bet you haven't heard this one." He then begins the story with Lincoln getting killed by Indians. Somehow he is right and he doesn't re-write history in the process. (Let me know if you want to know how that one ends!???)

Suffice it to say that Harvey will be missed and that he made no secret of his faith in Christ. That was always the cool thing about him. He was so popular and such a strong believer!

No one will be noticed in heaven for probably millions of years when we first get there. Only the Lord will be seen and worshiped for a long time. It is how it should and will be I am confident. Yet when we lose a special loved one from here (this world) - I cannot help but think of the old saying - "heaven just got a little sweeter". Probably not theologically sound, but comforting to know that we will all be together one day.

Thanks, Paul, for your faith and your boldness to share it with us. You were an encouragement and inspiration to all who heard you. It is probably not my place to assess you on this, but to quote our Lord on what we all long to one day hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant".

Catching Up Just a Bit

Hey there. Been a while. Been a lot of miles since we talked. And lots more to go, Lord willing. Here's what's gone on lately, with elaboration to follow in subsequent posts:

* Went on a fabluous marriage enrichment cruise to Alaska! (Hey, somebody's gotta do it!) Thanks to Pat for suggesting this wonderful idea. I'll speak more about it later, but just know (and I'm actually serious about this part) that a cruise is an excellent format for a marriage enrichment event. Selma and I were able to counsel with several of the couples who went. The cruise gave us session time each day with group. We also had time to counsel with another couple. Plus there was lots of time for us alone. Praise God for an awesome group and for an incredible trip to an incredibly beautiful part of His creation.

Look for info this fall about another one - perhaps south of here, for next summer. We want you on that one with us!

* Finally got over the motion sickness from the trip around Tuesday! It was a 7-day cruise. (Don't think we'll do one that long again!) Got off the ship in Seattle on Friday morning. Major hangover, but then, I have my own special brand of motion sickness anyway. Glad the hangover's over.

* Couldn't believe Big Brown did NOT win the triple crown. What's with that? Selma actually saw the last triple crown winner - Affirmed - run at the Kentucky Derby. (Don't tell them at the seminary in Louisville or they might try take away my degree!) That was 1978. We were just kids then.  

* Sad to hear that Jim McKay died. The voice of ABC's Wide World of Sports was my hero growing up. He was a class reporter. I remember watching in a dorm at Florida State in 1972 when he announced that the Israelis were "all gone" - killed by terrorists. Sports will miss Jim.

* And another huge loss - Tim Russert. Coming home from the cruise, we came off the plane in Minneapolis and looked at the airport TV's to hear of his death. I almost lost it right there. Tim was my favorite political commentator. I've taped and watched everything I could about him these past few days.

* Immediate prayer needs, please ...

-- Mom. She's in the hospital. Pray that those who care for her will do a good job. And that we have wisdom on how to handle her housing situation afterwards.

-- Thursday and Friday - Selma and I are shooting the rest of The Parent Adventure. It goes with the book we are writing. It will be a long day of shooting many different scenes, each introducing the viewer to the next session's content. We are not professional actors by any means and it can be intimidating trying to remember your lines n front of a crew of 10-12 people who are professionals.

Long blog. Pardon any typos. Sorry. As my daughter Jennifer used to say when she'd talk and talk, then stop just long enough to take a breath, "I've just got a lot to say." Will try not to wait as long to catch up next time!

A Couple of Special Resources to Keep Things in Perspective

Johnny McNerney sent me via email a clip of a Robert Schuller interview with a 24-year old named Nick. It is about a 13-minute video and is incredibly inspirational. Not in a feel sorry way, but to help you have the view that Nick has: if God can use him in his cirmcumstances, then He can use you in your circumstances. You are welcome to check it out. Click here.

Second, in the same spirit of keeping things in perspective and avoiding the "poor me", why-hasn't-anybody-done-anything-for-me-lately attitude (not that you would ever have that attitude of course, but maybe you know someone... :-) - I am reading CJ Mahaney's book called Humility: True Greatness. Kyle (Goen) recommended to me. (For more info or for ordering, you can click on it in the margin on the left of this post under "Currently Reading".)

I am reading it slowly and God is blessing me with insights from this little book. Some of you speed readers could probably read it in about the time it takes you to watch Nick's video, but I would not advise that. Slower, with a book like this is better. Mahaney has a way of seeing scripture uniquely, betting things out of familiarity that I've never seen. I recommend it to you. I've already gotten another book by him "on deck" after this one. I'll share that with you later on.

Getting - or keeping things in perspective. We all need to go there once in a while. It has almost become a worn-out phrase, but it's still not about you and these two resources are effective reminders of what we are here for - to glorify Him.

Went to a Hockey Game and a Miracle Broke Out!

I apologize that it's been a while since I have "spoken" to you here. Lots going on, but I'll just plead guilty and ask for mercy.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways." Doesn't He? I didn't originate that saying, but I certainly can testify to it. Listen to this one:

David McCaman, my son-in-law, came across some extra Predators tickets the other night. (Thanks, Alan!) David asked me if I'd like to go with him. Sure! Selma was out that night with some other staff wives anyway.

We had a super time. The only other Preds game I went to was years ago and the score was 1-0. And the Predators lost, too. Rather boring.

This was different. Edmonton Oilers. Great seats. The best fight broke out in the first FIRST MINUTE of the game! Three goals in the first period. FIVE goals in the second with four coming within two minutes! Tied throughout the third period until less than 2 minutes in the game. The Preds SCORED! ! ! And won, 5-4! And we got a free taco from Taco Bell because the Preds scored at least 5 goals. (Okay, that part might not have been so good for some of you.)

Now, here's the miracle part:

I had bought a coke between the 2nd and 3rd period. Nothing unusual about that. It wasn't until we were cheering the victory at the end of the game that I started feeling for my wallet. Nowhere to be found. My elation suddenly melted into grave concern of course. We checked the seats, asked security. Nothing.

On our way of the Sommet Center I called Selma who was home by that time. I called her on her cell phone. I told her that we needed to cancel our credit cards and she was an absolute jewel. No attitude. No "I told you so". Just complete support for a grown man who had lost his wallet. (I love you, honey!)

As I was about to hang up, I heard our home phone ring. Selma told me to hang on. Then I heard her voice begin to rise in excitement. It was an honest man who had found my wallet. As it turned out he was sitting about three rows behind us and found it on the floor. Then he said to Selma, "You're not going to believe this, lady, but your husband gave my wife and me marriage counseling years ago, and I'll be happy to wait on him at the Smyrna Starbucks to return his wallet to him."

Now isn't it just like God to something cool like have the guy who found my wallet be someone whom I've known through ministry? Now this person was able to minister to me!

David and I "floated" down I-24 to Starbucks. I gave the guy a half dozen hugs and he refused a dozen times any compensation I offered him. But here is the line he left me with:

"Rodney, God had you come to the game tonight, lose your wallet, had us find it and call your wife. He had everything and every person in place - all to glorify Himself."

How can you argue with that? What a statement of truth. What a wonderful God we have. And what a roller coaster of emotions in one night!

It was quite different from the 1-0 game of yesteryear, but I'll take if it glorifies Him.

Dog Show Winner: in Memory of Pebbles?

Did you see that Uno, the winner of the Westminster Dog Show last week, was a beagle? Is that cool or what? Do you think they did that just in memory of Pebbles?

They call the beagle every man's dog. It's the average, run-of-the-mill pooch. So that makes it all the more special that he would win over all of the other special "fancy breeds".

Good looking dog, this Uno. I mean, he's no Pebbles, but he's pretty cute! 

Been Out for a Bit

Some of you won't relate to this at all. I'm showing my age but as the disc jockey used to say when he would actually play songs on the radio, "The  hits just keep on coming". Well, the hits just keep coming on this blog and for that I am grateful. Thanks for reading ... and responding!

I am also full of regret for not updating 'Get a Room' for a while. Blame it on the holidays. Yeah, that's it. It's the holidays' fault. Not really. I've just been out for a bit.

I trust your holidays were good. Hopefully you were able to spend it with family. Given our situation with Mom and Dad these days, I think we had a wonderful Christmas. It could have gone a lot worse for sure.

Will get you a new list of my Top Ten of what I read last year, what I'm reading currently, and what I intend to read in 2008 shortly.

Thanks for checking in. See you soon.

A Day of Freedom for a Friend's Stepson!

It's a wonderful day to praise the Lord. Every day is of course, but this one is special for me. Here's what's going on...

Years ago I served at the Tennessee Baptist Convention through the Collegiate Student Ministries office as State Associate of that department. I worked with Campus Ministers across the state. One of those ministers was Dane Anthony. He worked at Tenn. Tech for a while and then went to Belmont University as their campus minister and chaplain. Dane and I were good friends as well as colleagues.

Dane's step-son, Eric Volz, recently worked in Nicaragua. Perhaps you've heard the story. He had a Nicaraguan girlfriend down there. Shortly after they broke up, she was murdered. Eric was arrested and tried for the crime. Despite, as NBC's Today Show called it, "reams of evidence" to the contrary, the "gringo" had to pay. Eric was convicted of the crime and has been in prison for over a year.

You can go to friendsofericvolz.com to see all the background. But you DON'T have to do that. This not a political statement I'm making here. I am just saying it is a great day to praise the Lord because Eric was released just last Friday. He was escorted to the airport and flown out of the country shortly thereafter.

Dane gave up his position at Belmont to work full time on Eric's release. The family has spent their life savings on this effort. And it has come to fruition. Eric is a free man. This family love causes me to reflect on what I've been blessed with. And I am very grateful this Christmas for my family.

What would you and I do? Would we give our jobs? Pay out our life savings to save a loved one? As you look at your family this season, be thankful. Thankful for the Lord's blessings of your family but also of bringing Dane's family back together again.

Join me in a prayer of thanks for God's provision for an old friend's family.

A Different Kind of Christmas

Selma's Mom died in June of 1993. It was the first and only parent we have had to die. That Christmas - 6 months later, was tough of course. It opened my eyes to what people go through every year whether I care to notice or not.

Every Christmas since  '93 my Christmas cards have been unique. I'm not a big card sender (Selma usually does that) but I make a list of people I know that have lost loved ones through the previous year. I write them a brief note telling them I am remembering them during this first holiday season since the homegoing of their loved one. I then keep the list in my pocket and refer to it in prayer several times a day during the holidays.

There are certain Christmases where "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" just isn't. I have found that taking these people to the Lord and letting them know I am has been one little way I can give to them.

As for our family, this Christmas will be a challenge. Not only is Dad still in a nursing home - going on three months now. But MOM has recently been to the hospital with heart failure and - guess what - is now across the hall from Dad at the same nursing home. She is not as critical as Dad but they are currently residing nearby each other. It's cute and it's sad at the same time.

One more: Peb. You might remember the wild story about our beagle, Pebbles. The biopsy was not good. It's a matter of time. Probably days. Hopefully, after the holidays.

Now, before this gets morbid and you get out your Kleenex (I'm kidding ... I hope!) let me turn this thing around. Here is how I pray for people who are expecting a different kind of Christmas. It's a simple prayer: that God would make His love and comfort clear to that person or family.

That's how you can pray for us this season - that in the midst of this 'different Christmas', God would give us the privilege of knowing confidently of His presence throughout this season. He hasn't left us yet. Nor will He. He's made a promise about that.

Our pastor, Pat, shared in a recent message that the good news the angels proclaimed to the shepherds applies to us - especially if we are experiencing a 'different' Christmas due to loss or other challenge. God is God. Christ became human. God is working all things for good for those who love Him (Romans 8:28). Oh yes, there is good news in the midst of our unique holiday!

Some blog postings are lighter than others, but this is where we are today.

Read me again and I'll try to give it a different look.