LeadershipConneXtions

The Visitor (Mike Johnson)

Here is a story from Mike Johnson who has motivated many of us with his "walking journey."  This episode has a very different setting. But Mike continues to do his "grace walk."  Thank-you Mike.  -bkr-

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For two weeks, Pastor Steve had tried to get a message to me.  He planned to deliver the message in person, to extend an invitation to a meeting, but somehow, our paths did not cross, or the schedules did not allow until finally, Pastor sent an email to me.  

I received the email at 0921 in the morning on my blackberry, on the first day of deer season.  I was off from work and was in the field, enjoying inserting myself into the food chain other than to shop for meat at Giant.  The invitation of the message humbled me and I spent the day in prayer over the content of the message and I wanted to share the contents with my family and ask their opinion.   Though I did not get a deer while hunting, I was glad to get out of the field and on my way to the house.   

Upon arrival there, my son Ryan was busy gathering his items, packing up and loading his car to make the 25 minute trip south to his work.  He had been home for the week for the Thanksgiving holiday and it was now time for him to return to work at River Valley Ranch where he interns while learning to be a Christian Camp Director.  Ryan made four or five trips from his room to his car via the foyer and front door.  It looked like he had another trip to make as he gathered the remaining items into his arms in the foyer, when I asked him to sit down in the family room where I wanted to share the email with him and ask his opinion.    The dogs were spirited and amidst the barking and their running through the four rooms of the main floor of the house, I began to read the email from Pastor Steve.  I was interrupted several times as the beagle ran by, barking and chasing the Great Dane , whose huge bounds kept him just out of reach of her playful nips…

Unbeknownst to us, at that moment two tons of steel was being propelled on a straight course for the center of house.  The driver of the vehicle, no longer in control of his steel stead, his foot on the accelerator, unaware of the pin oak he had just clipped, sped on to what was now, a huge green target, our front door …

In the last 45 seconds since asking Ryan to come sit, the dogs had completed several laps of the four rooms, and I had just completed the email and was asking opinions when the house shook with the impact of the min-van, and then crashing of glass, the implosion of the front of the house, wood and steel and glass and mini-van creating a storm of chaos and noise and debris that quickly filled the house.  Later we would find debris in the kitchen, living room, dining room, on the steps, all broken and twisted and unrecognizable.  

The van came to rest on the hardwood floor, the tires still spinning, burning, cutting, and shredding the foyer floor where Ryan had stood less than a minute before and marked the very spot where the Visitor first stood. The door he was going in and out of was now imbedded in the wall of the downstairs bathroom, like an axe blade in a piece of wood.   The house was quickly filling with smoke from the spinning tires.   I ran out of the back of the house and around to the front, pulling open the driver’s side door and turning off the car, the driver appeared unhurt and I helped him exit the car.  My family was accounted for outside of the house, the cold wet air chilling to us as we tended to each other and to the driver.  We called his parents and told them he was uninjured but had been in an accident.  They arrived shortly after that.  Neighbors came out of their house to look and comfort and offer their kindness.  And among them, a Visitor stood.

I entered the house several times to open windows and doors, to put fans on, and grab coats and shoes for the family.   The acrid smoke cut short my breathing and forced me out of the house.   Once outside the chaos continued around us as the fire trucks from two stations arrived, police arrived, fire police arrived and more and more people came out of their houses to see the devastation.   

We stayed with the young man until the police took him to their car for questioning.  We then tried to comfort his family as they told of us their son’s long battle with addictions and the extent of help they had sought over the years.   I asked if we could pray for them and for their son and they wept, and we wept through that prayer as the Visitor moved through the group. 

Hours later, acrid smell still causing irritation with each breath, the gaping hole boarded up against the chill of the night air, the debris piled on the grass outside, with workmen still there, more prayers were said, and still the Visitor moved among us, healing and soothing and giving peace and comfort.   Over the next few days, the Visitor was evident in the dealings and relaying of the story.  Ryan’s work let him stay an additional night and did not have him make up the lost work.  Cheryl’s work offered gifts of a wreath for the front door, a bottle of wine and a dinner – and a small Christmas tree ornament of a front door.  How very kind and considerate. Our neighbor watched the dogs that first night and later in the week as the house was treated with ozone to attempt to rid the house of the smell.  

Always the Visitor did not leave us.  We talked with the father and told them that there would be no legal proceedings against them, and that we would support the defense of their child to get charges dropped, that our insurance would cover the extensive damage to our house and they would not have to spend any money for this accident.  We promised a new friendship would begin out of this and all the time, the Visitor stayed to offer peace and comfort and guidance.

Grace was our visitor that night.  The truth is that none of us deserve this precious life.  We draw our very breath by the Grace of God – its source is the wellspring of God the Father’s love for his son in the Holy Spirit.   It was Grace alone that spared the young man injuries as brick and wood and metal and smoke and dust collapsed all around him.   It was Grace that brought Ryan out of death’s grasp in that foyer.  It was Grace that poured out of friends and family that night and through the week.   And it was our response to the Grace of Christ in our lives that allowed us to minister to the parents of this boy, to begin the healing process immediately, that kept anger and self out of this incident and instead filled us with peace and love and compassion.  

 The damage is extensive in the house, but through Grace, we are more complete and more thankful than ever before. Blessings to you all and may the Visitor be evident in your life.

Mike Johnson 
Leadership ConneXtions International 
www.lci.typepad.com

With Each Step (Mike Johnson "Walking 07")

It has been awhile since my friend Mike Johnson gave me a page from his journals. The fault is mine.

 Here is another story from Mike's Walking.

If you have missed previous pages from Mike's journaling, you can go back and read them by- scrolling down the left hand column and find - Categories.  Then, look for the phrase - Mike Johnson "Walking." Then, click on it and you'll be able to read his previous entries.  -bkr-

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With each step, the pain in my left knee radiates throughout my entire leg.  Over the last few weeks, I have sought to ease the pain by changing shoes, wrapping the knee, taking meds and icing at night.  Nothing has worked and today I am really feeling the weariness of my body as a result of the hours of lost sleep my knee has caused.   I pray to God, the great physician, to take this pain from me and I hear clearly from him that he already has … on the cross.   “Father, why does it still hurt then?” “My son, take up your cross”

The summer has yet to release its grip on the city.  The air is moist with the fumes of the countless cars that rush by.  The heat radiates from the street and the sidewalk.  Under the overpasses, there is no relief from the midday sun, or the stench of filth, urine, and decay and trash.   The air is stagnant, hot and humid and the streets seem to stick to me.  I have walked this walk maybe a hundred times yet today my walk is more an exaggerated limp than a walk.  As I approach my destination, I feel the sweat running down my back, underneath the laden backpack.   “What is my cross? What am I to bear for you my father?”

I approach with a wave of a hand as the residents of this few square feet of the city greet me with various forms of “hello.” I have been here many times before, the last just yesterday.  I ease my pack off as our conversation turns to the thunderstorms of the previous night, the losing streak of the Baltimore Orioles, and what they had for their last meal and when.  I unpack the items I have brought today, a small fuel stove, plastic tarps and parachute chord, various packaged food items, a pan and some fresh steaks.  I show them the operation of the stove and we put the steaks on for them to soon enjoy.    The tarp comes a day late but there will be other storms and the men are so grateful for so little.  We talk as the steaks sizzle in the heat, replacing the stifled stench of this place with the smell of cooking meat.  

One man shows me a map of the United States that he found in a trash can.  He traces with a dirty finger the various states he has lived in, mostly on the streets.  He says he moves from place to place with the seasons, he talks of those he has met on the streets of other cities, of other underpasses and fetid places.  He speaks of those who pass him on the street with averted glances, of the hunger that never leaves his belly, or the wounds that never seem to heal.  He looks to me with pleading eyes and asks why I visit them, why I keep coming back with items and food.   I tell him of my walk in grace and that I am there as a response to my growing understanding of God’s Grace for me.  I tell them that I and God love them. 

As the steaks near completion, I take my leave and begin my walk back to work, the pain in my knee more intense having stiffened during my short visit.   In my head, thoughts of the map of the U.S., those in other cities who sleep on the streets, the hungry, the sick, the needy, the lost, the forgotten and the ignored…and the words of my Father, “take up your cross.” I retrace my steps to my office to finish my work day there.  Off in the distance I hear the rumble of thunder and notice the darkening clouds rising in the west.   It will rain tonight.  

Mike Johnson
Leadership ConneXtions International 
 

Walking 06: I see him at the corner . . . (Mike Johnson)

It has been some time since Mike Johnson updated you on his "Walking." It is not because he hasn't been walking. He has. Nor is it because he hasn't been having "grace experiences" as he walks. For he has. It is just that we were busy and not in touch regularly for a good part of the summer.

At our recent Sunday Nite Leadership Community, Mike shared with us the story that follows.

Thank-you Mike.  -bkr-

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I see Him at the corner, at the bottom of the bridge where he lives, at the light that I must turn at to get to work.  I have seen Him often, but not everyday.  I have walked to meet up with Him many times before, but found him not there during my lunch hour.  This day, I am very early to work and once parked, I begin my day with a walk to the corner, at the bottom of the bridge where He lives. 

He sits on a cement wall, sign in hand: “Homeless, Crippled, God Bless”.  The morning sun is not fully up yet the first rays of light are already reflecting off the steel grey legs of the crutches beside Him.  A pair of aluminum legs for the one He is missing.  I approach Him and as our eyes meet, the weariness seems to perk up in a sign of recognition.  “Black truck” He says to me as I nod. 

We have met on many mornings in passing, some to His benefit of a few dollars passed through a window.  I offer my name and He gives me His first.  I ask Him if He would like to go get some breakfast and coffee, His head glancing up the bridge to see if any other donations were coming His way, then returns to look at me and nods.  He gathers His crutches under His arms and begins to lead the way into and across the street to the Seven – Eleven two blocks to the left.  That accomplished, we return to His office on the corner, at the bottom of the bridge, where He lives.

I sit with Him, dressed as I do for work, and we eat and converse about several things.  Seems I do most of the asking, He does most of the talking.  He has been in and out of the system, He is a vet, and this is His corner.  I ask if He has a pet and He says no but gives me a strange look.  I tell Him that I asked that because I wanted to know if He wanted work, and a pet would be difficult if He said yes.  He thought a moment and asked about the work and I explained that I could use help doing lots of odd jobs in the labs but that this would be temporary, until the third week in August. 

He was interested but worried about His appearance, clothes, and His ability.  I assured Him that we a place to shower and we could get Him clothes, and have His other items washed while He worked.  I also told Him if He did come to work, that I would, when the work was done, pay Him each day.  I also suggested that we could work on a resume while He was there and that I would give Him a letter of recommendation when the work was complete and put Him in touch with a temp agency. 

I didn’t set a time that He had to show up, allowing Him to complete His work at His “office”.  As the time passed, more and more of the people employed with me drive past.  I see their expressions of curiosity on their faces.  I also noticed that He was not getting any further compensation for displaying His sign as we talked, but He didn’t seem to mind.  I told Him where to meet me if He wanted, told Him what I would pay, and that it was all in His court.  I left Him with a hand shake and blessings for His day.

Upon arriving back at work, I went to talk with my associate to explain to him what I was doing and that this in no way reflected on his work, or ability to get it done, but it was a chance for him and me to help someone else.  He agreed and I felt assured he understood my faith and confidence in him and his abilities.  We came up with many projects He could help us with . . . if He showed up.

  

FAST FORWARD

It is nearly two weeks now since that day.  He didn’t show up that day, or the next, or the next.  Each morning coming to work, I had driven by His office at the corner, at the bottom of the bridge, where He lives and I had not seen Him. 

But, on the third day, a Thursday, He showed up unannounced, on His crutches, with a bag of clothes in His hand.  I met with Him and then showed Him the shower and offered Him jeans and t-shirt, and socks.  They fit (with help of a rope belt) and then we were off to the labs where my associate put Him to work.  We got his clothes washed that day and I picked up some items for Him at the store.  At the end of His first day, He was paid and sent on His way with clean clothes and a smile on His face.  For several hours a day, each day since that first day, He walks out of His world and into this one. 

Each day I meet with Him, we talk about the work, He shows me what He has done with pride, and He contributes more each day. 

I recently answered to the question “If you could have anything from God, what would you ask for?” that I wanted to see Christ in everyone I meet.  Out of the word God answers my prayers in verses found in Matthew 26: 31-46.  On that Monday, weeks ago, Christ was on the corner, at the bottom of the bridge, where He lives.  

Mike Johnson

Leadership ConneXtions International

Walking 05: Grace Comes With Long Ears (Mike Johnson)

When we were in Ethiopia, I noticed that my friend Mike had a keen interest in a particular kind of animal. He was drawn to the donkeys and mules that just plodded along on the dirt roads.  Well, Mike doesn't do anything "half" . . . if he is interested in something . . . he goes for it . . . and who knows what God has in store then . . .    -bkr-

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I have a partner in this pilgrimage for understanding of Grace.  Each Tuesday and Thursday we meet and walk, rain or shine, cold or hot.  Sometimes my partner is a little reluctant, other times he is waiting for me when I arrive and anxious to go.  It’s kind of funny how often our moods match in that regard.  Sam, Sammy, or Samule – he answers just as well or as poorly to all of his names.  

Sa’mule’ a #1200 mule was rescued from slaughter after a long work career in the fields of Lancaster.  When we met, he was underweight, needed significant dental work and could not eat, had a skin disease and hoof problems.  He was dirty, had confidence issues, he stank, and was shaved clean of his mane and back and tail hairs.  He was discarded from his work and offered for sale to a protein processing plant.  He had outlived his usefulness and was sold to be killed. 

 

I met him on one Saturday in November.  I was just a few weeks away from having put a mule down that had gotten sick and was not interested in adopting another mule when we first laid eyes on one another.  My thoughts were to pay for correction of his physical conditions and ailments, thinking that with those expenses gone, someone would find him more adoptable in this economic down turn.  My farrier was called and his hooves were corrected.  Two weeks later, the dentist fixed his teeth and he started eating.  Daily grooming helped with his skin issues and dietary supplements were added to his food to put weight back on him.  The Vet came and examined him and gave him his vaccinations and his Coggins.  

The weeks continued and I went shopping for a halter and blanket as the temperatures continued to drop.  The New Year was approaching and I was soon to leave for my second missions’ trip to Ethiopia.  I was worried about the mule and made the decision to adopt and moved him to his new home two days before I flew on the trip.  Through all of those weeks, a bond of trust was developing between us.  He followed me on lead where ever I would walk.   I read a book called the “The Moonshine Mule” about a 1500 mile walk a guy made from Mexico to New York with a mule, in 2001.  A thought of Samule and I walking and tent camping was planted in my mind.

Since my return we have spent hours and hours a week together, walking, talking, grooming or just hanging together.  So many metaphors come to mind as I ponder his traits and demeanor.  But mostly Grace comes to mind.  Mules are widely misunderstood and much maligned in equine culture as well as in popular culture.  Often they are said to be stubborn, but really it is a strong sense of self preservation that is being witnessed.  They actually will go out of their way to please, truly wanting to do all they can for you.  They respond with a quiet eagerness.  They are not proud animals, like say a track thoroughbred, but instead are meek, mild mannered, well behaved, and ever pleasing. 

When I think of his condition and plight when I first laid eyes on him, I have to consider that I am much like he was.  Broken in body and spirit, a castaway in the great scheme of things, ill tempered and misunderstood.  Not a healthy self image.  Not unlike the ministering to his needs and condition that I provided to Samule, the Holy Spirit comes to me and restores me to the image of a child of God.  The Spirit nourishes me, tends to my needs, and restores my health and my confidence.  

Through the Grace of God, this broken, sinful, self absorbed person can set aside selfish gain, recognizing that all comes through and from our God.  All belongs to the Creator, all Glory and all Praise and all Credit.  I have nothing and am nothing before the throne of the Lord yet His Spirit, and His Grace reach down to lift me up out of the messiness of life and restore me to His Most Splendid purpose of extending his Grace and Love to all.  As I have walked, I have grown so much but there is much less of me now.  Sammy and I walk together, receivers of Grace, restored towards the image our Creator meant for us.  

Mike Johnson

Leadership ConneXtions International

Walking: 04 - Love Him (Mike Johnson)

Mike talks about one of those divine moments God gave him as he was walking, well running in this story. This is one of those stories that will hit you hard.  Thank you, my friend, for sharing this. It is beautiful and our God is an incredible God.  -bkr-

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The day at work had been hectic and disappointing, filled with the normal chaos of yet another year of senior design projects coming to an end.   I had a late arrival home and my walk was not yet done for the day.   I quickly changed into walking gear, grabbed my staff and hopped in the truck to head to Rocky Ridge and the more remote paths there.  Upon arrival, I stretched a bit and decided at that moment to try a run/walk this evening.  It had been nearly a year since I have run, having had back and knee surgery in 2008.  Tonight, I just felt like running.

Leaving my staff in the truck, I pushed off on a run, my legs quickly falling into an old familiar gait on the rocky path.  How I love trail running!!   I easily get lost in thought as my eyes and legs complete the dance of negotiating the trail and the obstacles there.  The first mile took me through the woods behind the shelters and buildings for maintenance, to the beginning of trail 8, a steep hilly section of trails.  My breathing was even and comfortable, my mind focused on the beauty of the perfect temps, the low humidity, the blue bells in the trail, the sound of the animals scurrying off the trail.  I barely heard it amid my free ranging thoughts – “love him”.  

Though soft and gentle, it was very clear.  My mind quickly shifted to that thought – love who?  Love God?  Surely I do!  Love who?  Was it someone in my day? Who in my life?  The even pace was eating up the trail, 2 miles, 3 miles …  In my mind I was going through all the males in my life, wondering if there was something I was missing – “LOVE him”  I heard the first word so loud, I almost missed the “him”.   WHO??  Tell me!!  My feet carried me to the beginning of a climb, my body angle changed as I leaned into the effort.   My first run in so long and it was going as if I had never stopped running.  I was hopping rocks and jumping logs, leaping puddles where springs surfaced and totally enjoying the moment, even in the effort of the climb.   My mind shifted to the aspects of form and running, and watching my step as I pushed up the hill.  – “LOVE HIM”.

I crested the climb; 4 miles behind me, 4 miles ahead of me and the words were so loud in my head that I started to really worry now.  “GOD, LOVE WHO?   TELL ME” my mind pleaded.  The question was foremost on my mind now and to focus on it, my body slowed from the run to a walk and within a couple of hundred yards, to a stop.   I was looking around; I was listening, waiting for a response, waiting on HIM.   I started walking, looking.  The day was coming to a close; clouds now covered the fading light of the day.  The woods activity had all but ceased, a quite hush had come over the area, broken only by my breathing and footsteps.  – “LOVE JIM”

JIM???  Who is Jim?  My steps take me around a bend and out onto the more popular trail 1.  The path widens here, the ground is treated with gravel and is flat and smooth with no rocks.  My walking pace quickens as do my thoughts.   Who is Jim?  Am I nuts?  Is my mind playing with me?  What happened to this run?  Can I get back to the truck before it gets dark?  Should I start running again to do so?   Yes, start running again says my mind and my legs and feet respond.  The first steps are tentative and stiff but my stride settles quickly and by the time I exit the woods and get into the open near the power lines I am in full stride and focused on the run.  That is when I see HIM. 

He is walking with his head hung low; his steps are burdensome as if he is bearing a huge weight, shuffling more than strides.  His eyes are averted from me and he is a bit startled to see me come onto the trail, almost as startled as I am to see someone going deeper into the trails as the light is fading.   The gap between us is closing more at the pace of my run than at the pace of his walk.  He is middle aged, as much as I am.  His clothes are… wait, his clothes don’t match the activity.  He is dressed in business attire, shoes, pants, jacket, loosened tie.  We are steps away from each other and my eyes move to his face as I greet him with a hello.  No greeting returned.  In fact his head moves to avert his eyes.  Strange.   I keep running another ten yards – LOVE JIM.   I stop and turn.  I jog back and say “I’m sorry to bother you but is there anything I can do for you?  He shakes his head but his eyes fill with tears. 

I reach out my hand to touch his arm and tell him my name, and that, despite how crazy it sounded; I think God wanted me to speak to him.  He burst into tears and sobbing saying God didn’t care about him and then he proceeded into the troubles and worries of his life.  He spoke about lost work, health issues, relationships failing, financial difficulties, unanswered prayers.  In the fading light, this stranger was pouring out his inner most thoughts.  After the initial outpouring he said he didn’t know why he said all those things to me and that he knew I really couldn’t care one bit about it.  

I was at a loss for words and was praying for the Holy Spirit to give me the words.   All I could say is what I knew, that for the last hour, GOD had been telling me about and preparing me for our meeting.  That GOD was telling me to LOVE HIM and because of this, that GOD was telling HIM that he loved him so very much.  So much that despite all the burdens and problems that we carry in our life, the sinful things that we think and act out, GOD sent his SON, down from his heavenly thrown, surrounded and  adored by all of the heavenly beings, to live among us, to feel all that we feel, and to bridge the gap of our inadequacy to come before our creator, through the blood of the cross.  God’s own SON had died and rose again to restore us to status of adopted children of GOD.  

And I told him that today; GOD loved him so much that he sent me to carry the message of HIS love for HIM, that he heard his prayers and he does care about him and all his concerns.  GOD wanted him to know that HE is with him, that he is there to comfort and to consol, to lean on always. 

We talked some more, and there were tears shed on both side.  We walked back to the parking lot, in the dark but somehow there was plenty of light to see a transformation in the mood of HIM, to see burdens lifted up.   He confided in me that he was there that night to decide how to end his life and yet he now had the desire to start it over.  He was going to get another job, to apologize for his part in the failed relationship and that he would start to go back to church.   As we reached the parking lot his tears had given way to smiles and even some laughter.  I asked if I could pray for him and he gladly accepted.  I prayed for my brother in Christ and then hugged him, told him that I loved him and that God loved him and reached into my car and gave him one of my business cards.  He thanked me and turned to walk away, then turned back again and shook my hand, offering his card, saying that the cell number was still good on the card.   As I got in the truck, I read the card and my eyes filled with tears.   His name was JIM.

Mike Johnson

Leadership ConneXtions International

Nothing to Offer Before the Throne (Walking 03: Mike Johnson)

Mike Johnson continues his story of walking. Only his journey recently took him to Ethiopia to work with Living Word Community Church's partnership in the village of Sendafa which is about an hour drive from Addis. Mike was there to work with the well drilling project. But when we was done with that work, at the end of each day, Mike was out walking the streets of Addis Ababa. Ethiopia is one of the poorest countries in the world and the poverty in Addis is everywhere. Here are some of Mike's thoughts from his journals as he walked among the poor. This just hits me as New Testament Christianity. Thank you Mike.  -bkr-

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The predawn chorus has replaced the noise of the night on the street.  Even the dogs have grown tired of their own voice as the birds announce the rising of the sun.  From the east its tendrils of light and heat are already evident.  The sliver of the moon has moved off to the west taking with it the cool black darkness which provides the curtains of shadows in the alleys of this capital city.  I am 14,000 miles from my home; I am in Addis-Abba, the capital city of Ethiopia. 

This is Thursday, my last day here of a trip that started the Saturday before.   As I listen to the morning dawn take over the streets, the tears are flowing as I remember the events of the last four nights on the streets of Addis.  I arrived on Sunday evening or perhaps more correctly, Monday early morning just after midnight.  I quickly dropped my bags in the room and headed out for my walk.  On my way to the guest house, as the Nissan van sped on its way, the homeless of this city, asleep on the curbs and sidewalks, and in bundles under the overpasses – appeared as discarded trash, distinguishable only by the feet sticking out from their garments which serve as blankets and shelters from the unseasonable rains which fall each night. 

Into the darkness of the alley and on to the street I walked.  The rain fell on the streets, chasing all but the homeless off the street.  I come across a woman and child huddled under a piece of plastic.  The barrier of language cannot hide the meaning of her words as a few birr find their way into her hand.  There is no food, everything is wet, there are no shoes, and the clothes are torn and tattered.  The gratitude of the gift is evident in her eyes.  

Further along there is a man that crippled from birth, his limbs twisted and at angles completely unnatural, shaped by the lifetime of dragging his body along the streets on a mat tied to his body.  I sat next to him, in the rain and the mud that was his home for the evening.  I hug him and offer him some birr also.  I ask what I can do for him, if he was hungry.  The tears mix with the rain as we sit and his mangled hand rests on my knee.  He talks in a language that I don’t understand yet somehow we communicate for nearly a half hour.  I tell him he is my brother, that God above loves him and that I do too.  I think he understands.  

Over the next three nights, I visited the woman with child and my broken, crippled friend each night.  I bring fruits and shoes to the woman, and food and a jacket to my new friend.  The rains continue each night in some varying degree.  The tears do too.  

I am aware of my thoughts that these people have nothing to offer the throne of Ethiopia.  They have no work, they pay no taxes, and no one would note their passing in this distant land.  And I am aware that I have, in my sinful, broken, crippled state,  no worth before the kingdom of God outside of His Glorious Grace.  In effort or deed I am still as my new friend, crippled, unable to walk before the throne of God.  It is God’s Grace that reaches across those boundaries, that not only allows my life to have value to the kingdom, but restores me to the inheritance offered as a child of God.  I am wholly unworthy.  But great is the depth and breadth of God’s love and grace. 

The tears flow this morning.  I pray for the woman, the child, the man.  It is unlikely I will ever see them again.  I hope they know that they are loved and that God loves them.

Mike Johnson

Leadership ConneXtions International

Walking: 02 (Mike Johnson)

I think one of the reasons that Mike's walking journey is impacting me is because Mike is seriously doing this thing called "incarnation."

I believe it was Mother Teresa who said (paraphrased), "It is quite fashionable to talk about the poor these days. Unfortunately, it is not so fashionable as to actually do something with and for them."  

Getting up close and real is what incarnation is all about. Mike is doing this and meeting some people along the way he would not normally meet. Thanks Mike for showing me this way of incarnation again.   (brian)

p.s.  Remember that Mike is journaling a lot more than what you read here. So you are getting some selections of his journey.

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It has often been said that we must slow down, to listen to the quiet voice of God. Christ walked among us. He didn’t come in an age of the internet, or supersonic flight. He came when his message of grace was carried by foot and conveyed by word of mouth. He walked from town to town. He engaged the people, talked with them, had compassion on them. The crowd crushed in around him. He touched the lives of those he met, giving exactly according to their needs. God’s Grace walked among men, and so must I.

I have begun a pilgrimage, a modern day one. I started on the first day of Lent and will walk each day, for a year. Along the path I hope to come to understand the depth and breadth of God’s Grace, to imprint that understanding on my heart, in my mind and to live the life of Grace God Reveals to me.  

While on my walk today, I met a homeless man and his dog.  He asked me for change or food and I had nothing on me.  I was not prepared for this.  I responded as I usually do, shaking my head and walking on.  God spoke within 10 steps and I listened.  I turned and had to hustle to catch up to he and his dog.  I said I was sorry that I had no money on me, but if he would allow, we could go to the next cafe and get him (and his dog) some lunch and drinks.  I had my check card in my wallet and that is what we did.  I paid and left him to eat, anxious to get back to my walk. 

Oh the anxiety I have had over my poor actions.  I should have invested more time in him, to slow down even from my walk to sit, to listen, to be a friend, to convey Christ to him.  I was worried about being late back to work while this child of God needed all of me, not a small part of my finances.  My first opportunity to extend God's grace and I failed so miserably.  I have decided to not pay for any more lunches.  This will save $7 -$18 / day.  With this I will purchase food, clothes, sleeping bags for those I meet on the journey to Grace.  I will not presume to know their needs.  I will feed them and hear what they need.  I will slow, I will listen.  I will walk with them a while.  I will extend my Lord's Grace as he reveals it to me. 

Mike Johnson

Leadership ConneXtions international

Walking: 01 (Mike Johnson)

Mike Johnson is a good friend of mine and someone who is partnering with Leadership ConneXtions. Mike is an interesting guy with many layers. (Think Shrek, ogres, donkeys [or mules], onions, layers and you get the general idea. By the way, this is Mike's self-assessment, not mine. I just wholeheartedly agree with his assessment.)

Mike loves sub-Sahara Africa. Mike is a teacher/trainer/mentor at heart. Mike is re-focusing his life in a significant way to be involved in developing leaders locally and internationally. And Mike is a guy who doesn't do things "half." He goes all the way. Once he has made up his mind and knows what he must do... he does it.

Mike is one of the people in our Sunday Nite Leadership Community and at our last gathering, Mike shared some of his up-to-date journey in a way that had us all realizing that Jesus had just visited us and given us a "God moment" through Mike's words. I think we all had a sense that something deeply meaningful had just been shared and we were going to have to wait and watch and see where it led.

Mike is on a journey. He is walking. Literally and symbolically.  I've asked Mike if he would do some writing that I could post on this site. So he sends me some of his journaled thoughts.  My fear is that these "abbreviated" and a bit out of context posts won't do justice to what is going on in Mike's life. They are only part of the story. But they are so rich that we'll take the chance and share them anyway. 

So welcome to a new guest blogger on the Leadership ConneXtions International blogsite. Thank you my friend for your willingness to share some of your journey and your journaling.  (brian)

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Divergent paths collide - At 16 I made a list of 100 things I wanted to do in my life. This list covered career, education, family, sports, activities, goals, and dreams. I have not added to this list since. I have knocked off many of the items on the list - some, will never be achieved.

I married, had a son, own a home, ridden the Pacific Coast Highway One on a Harley, ridden a camel, an elephant, taken a deer with a longbow, a bison with a sharps, run a 4 min mile, marathons, ultra marathons, run a 47 second quarter mile etc. One of the things on that list is to walk the Appalachian trail, all 2175 miles of it.

In 1991, I met and hosted in my home, George Walter, a pilgrim for Christ. I have his book and have read it several times. He was soon to become a priest who left the church to become a pilgrim, to get closer to God. His sandaled feet, wooden staff, and robe clothes spoke to me in a deep way. He had no possesions but his staff and tunic. He slept where he was invited, he ate what was offered. I longed to want to search for God in such an open and honest way.  His book is: A Pilgrim Finds the Way: A Walk From Barcelona to Jerusalem.

2009 - January. I have completed my second missions trip to Ethiopia. During this last trip it was made clear to me that Christ walked and taught in such conditions. As I looked out upon the roads of the capital - Addis, I saw the sick, the poor the lame on the streets. Towards the village of Sendafa, the roads turned to dirt and all the people are walking somewhere. They walk to church, work, to the fields, to get water, to shop, to school. As we speed by in our Toyota vans, I realize that we cannot experience this culture, these people until we get out and walk among them.

2008-2009 - my struggle with Grace. The longing of my heart is to understand, to know the depth and breadth of God’s Grace, to be transformed in Christ’s likeness, through understanding God’s revelation of His Grace of the cross. The books I have read, the studies I have completed, have not satisfied this burning desire to know God’s Grace Intimately.  And so now I walk. 

I walk seeking the understanding of Grace, as God will reveal to me. My walks so far have shown me beauty in the midst of the city of Baltimore - at Round Falls on the JFT - something I would not have found if I was in my car or on my motor cycle.

I have come to see the homeless, to know their routes and routines - and the Grace I should show there. Under the Overpass by Mike Yankoski, revealed this world to me. Grace is all around me.  I walk, I talk - I converse with God and He reveals to me his Grace as I do. The world by foot is so much different than in my truck. 

(OnTuesdays and Thursdays) I walk with my mule - his gentle gait, his flopping ears of contentment, teach me meekness, kindness, patience, peace, happiness. Grace is abundant - poured out on our lives like sunshine from above. Expose your Grace dear Father. Teach me as you will, use me, your servant.

Mike Johnson

Leadership ConneXtions International

For an article on George Walter, click here.