Author: newkingjim

I was visiting Pompano Beach, a nice place to escape to for a few days . From my window on the tenth floor, along with the intra coastal waterway and the beach (yes, great view), I could see a small grassy park with a raised mound of grass in the center. I didn’t think too much of it. Maybe it was part of a children’s playground. Maybe the city workers weren’t paid enough to level it. Maybe the Mole Man (Marvel Comic’s Villain) was burrowing up to take over the world. I didn’t know. It was just a mound of dirt.

After a closer examination, I could see a small brick structure at the top of the mound. The next morning, I took a walk to see what this mound and structure was. Actually, I looked it up online first, but that’s far more boring than pretending I didn’t know what it was until I got there. Anyway, when I reached the mound (yes, I really walked there) I discovered this tiny park was called Indian Mound Park. The mound is an old burial ground containing the bones of Tequesta Indians who inhabited the area hundreds of years ago. The little brick structure is a memorial with a commemorative metal plate explaining that the Tequesta buried their dead in community graves.

The past is everywhere around us. You never know where there might be an ancient burial ground (home developers, watch Poltergeist and beware). You never know where there might be lost treasure. Here in Florida, we have a stretch of coast called the Gold Coast because people are always finding coins, jewelry, and pottery from the hundreds of ships that sank in that stretch of water. You never know how much of the past you’re surrounded by until you start intentionally looking for it. Then you find out that the past surrounds you. It’s inescapable. So don’t ignore it. Respect it. And learn from it.

from the pen of Jeff Joyner

One morning, while on vacation in Michigan, my grandmother asked me and my younger brother, if we would go on a hike with her out in the country. She wanted to gather some wild berries, which she used to make her homemade pastries. She was also an avid photographer, who enjoyed taking pictures of wildflowers. We weren’t really excited about going, but she promised to make us one of her blueberry pies, if we went with her. That was definitely enough to convince us to go.

That afternoon, we hiked out to this beautiful field, where wild berries were growing in abundance. For the next couple of hours, we picked enough fruit to provide ample preserves, for the harsh Michigan winter. As dusk began to set over the countryside, my grandmother asked if she could take a picture of each of us, before we left. When it was my turn, she said, “I want you to stand sideways, and look straight at that fork in the road, where the two paths split. That way I can take a picture of your profile, with the beautiful sunset behind you.”

My grandmother’s comments completely caught me off guard. Little did she know, I was in the midst of a serious life crisis, where I was facing a “fork in the road” of my own. In this case, it had to do with my relationship with God. The first road, led to the one true God, which would require a total surrender on my part. The second road, led to a god of my own making, which would require me nothing. As my grandmother snapped the picture, it had become clear to me, that I had already chosen the wrong road.

The next several years were very difficult. My life was unraveling before my very eyes. The path that had once promised me freedom, had now led to betrayal. One day, while in college, I was talking with a friend about my commute to school. He mentioned that there was a different road I could take, that would substantially cut my commute time in the mornings. The next day, I decided to take this alternative route. As I was driving, a song came on that I had listened to hundreds of times. On this particular morning, one lyric now seemed to tower above the rest:

“There’s still time to
change the road you’re on.”

I eventually did change the road I was on, and surrendered my life to Jesus Christ. Since then, I have been radically changed, and have seen HIM be the one, to lead me into pastures of plenty. And the fruit that he has produced along the way, can only be attributed to his immeasurable, and awe inspiring grace, which rescued me, those many years ago.

“Jesus told him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me.” John‬ ‭14:6‬

from the pen of Jeff Joyner

A few years ago, I had a sense from God that I was going to begin a difficult stretch in my life. There have been other times in my life, where I could see a clear, visible outcome ahead. But this time, I sensed what I was facing, would require a level of faith, that I had not yet experienced. For this time, my destination was totally obscured. As the months passed, the trials continued to rise. I began to feel much like a man lost in the wilderness, not sure of where I was headed. The more I prayed, the more unsure I became.

One night, a friend invited us over to have dinner with he and his wife. After some good food and great conversation, he suddenly paused, looked at me, and said, “I feel that God wants me to tell you something.” I knew they had no idea of the specific challenges we were facing, so I was very anxious to hear what he had to say. He said, “Now you are facing much tribulation, but when it is over, you will soar like an eagle.”

This past July 4th, we celebrated again the life of my brother in law, Craig Jutila, who passed away in 2018. July 4th was one of his favorite holidays, so some fireworks were set off in his honor. Not really expecting to be emotional, I found myself still feeling twinges of grief for my buddy. Today, as I was reflecting on this past week, I felt strongly compelled to go back and find Craig’s final post on Facebook. This is what it said.

“Took this pic earlier this week. Added the 1 Samuel reference as a reminder.”

from the pen of Jeff Joyner

Every other summer, we would spend a week, visiting my grandparents in Bay City, Michigan. My aunt, uncle, and cousins, also lived in the same town, so there was always an over abundance of activities to keep us occupied. My grandfather, who was a third generation Dutch immigrant, lived in a house that could have easily been mistaken for a residence in the Netherlands. Inside, was the smell of coffee, the sound of classical music, and the reflections from the stain glass windows, which lined the upper staircase.

My grandfather also owned a cabin in northern Michigan, which was situated on the Rifle River. There, we would usually spend a couple of days, canoeing, fishing, or watching my grandmother make one of her famous blueberry pies. Though it was summer, it was still chilly at night, so there was always a roaring fire in the fireplace. After dinner, we would usually sit by the fire, and plan our activities for the following day.

One particular night around the fire, I suggested that we all plan a canoe trip down the Rifle River. Although it was one of our usual activities, no one seemed to be interested. After trying a couple different times to persuade them, I got a little miffed, and said, “I’ll just go by myself.” Although my parents were a little hesitant, I was able to convince them to let me go, since I was a teenager, and worked summers as a lifeguard. I told them that when I was done, I would call them from the general store, so that they could bring the trailer there, to come and get me.

The next morning, I got one of my grandfather’s canoes, got on my life jacket, and headed down the Rifle River. About halfway down, I was going over a rapid, and unexpectedly hit some rocks. Next thing I knew, my canoe tipped over, and my feet became wedged between two rocks, right in the middle of the rapids. I tried for several minutes, but was unable to leverage myself enough to reach the canoe. I knew I needed help, and began to pray. When I was done, a Bible verse immediately came to mind, one that I had heard somewhere before during my lifetime:

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.” Isaiah‬ ‭43:2‬ ‭

As I glanced down once again at the rapids, I began to hear voices in the distance behind me. It was two people paddling a canoe. Help had arrived. I was eventually able to finish my course that day, and saw first hand, that God not only answers prayer, but that His intentions for us, is to never “go it alone.” For we will always need each other, until the day, when we finish our final course in life.

“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” Galatians‬ ‭6:2‬ ‭

from the pen of Jeff Joyner

I came home, and threw the keys on the table. I was exhausted. The trials of life had become too overwhelming. I knew God was there, but my circumstances had led me to greatly question His love. The pain was just too great, the desert too dry, and the journey too long. I needed rest for my soul. As despair threatened to close in on me, I uttered to God, “You’ve broken my heart, you’ve broken my spirit, you’ve broken me.”

After sitting in silence for a while, I felt prompted for some reason, to look at the voice memos on my phone. Right away, I could see that there was something I had recorded a couple years earlier. It was a song in the making, that God had given me at the time, to work on at a later date.

Find rest my soul

In God alone

For He is good

He’s on the throne

For what have I

To fear or dread

Find rest my soul

Find rest my soul

At that moment, God’s message to me was clear. I had been looking for rest in all the wrong places. For true rest is not found in the changing of my circumstances, but in the unchanging ONE. For He loves me, He died for me, and He promises to lead me safely home. HE will forever be my light in the darkness, my oasis in the desert, and my rest within this restless world. “Find rest my soul, in God alone.”

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew‬ ‭11:28‬ ‭

from the pen of Jeff Joyner

It was 1985, and I was on tour with our band. We were booked to do a concert in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, at a pavilion, which was between the beach and the boardwalk. As usual, we set up, got a sound check, and then took some time to “chill” before the concert. I was sitting on the front row by myself.After a few minutes, I noticed three guys walking towards me from the beach. I stood up, we introduced ourselves, and they began asking me what time the concert started, and what songs we would be playing. When I told them we played both secular and Christian music, one guy became extremely angry, that we would consider playing Christian music in a public place. The more I tried to talk to him, the more upset he got. After a while, I could see this was going nowhere, and that I needed to de-escalate things as soon as possible. I began to silently pray that God would intervene, and give me the words to say. What happened next was totally of God, for I would have never done this on my own. I stopped our conversation, and said his first name. When he looked me in the eyes, I unexpectedly began to cry. Finally, through the tears, and with great emotion, I said, “Do you have any idea how much God loves you?” For several seconds he stared at me in silence, and then looked down quietly. GOD had struck a chord in his heart. It was clear to me, that he had never understood, nor considered, how much God loved him. After that, they left quietly, and to my knowledge, never returned for the concert. As for me, I was left with a sense, that perhaps the tears that were shed that day, were actually God’s and not my own. Whatever the case, I will never forget that moment, and will always cherish this photograph that a band member took. For it will always serve as a reminder to me, just how great God’s love is for us. For me, for you, for each and every one of us.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” John‬ ‭3:16‬ ‭

About ten days ago, I was traveling from Florida to Virginia with a stopover in North Carolina. It was a difficult travel day. Flights were delayed and canceled. I spent long hours in the Charlotte airport trying to amuse myself. I won’t bore you with descriptions of the types of things I find amusing to do in an airport. At one point, I glanced out the windows and was shocked at what I saw. Never had I seen anything like this first hand. I grabbed my camera (aka my phone) with thoughts of potential fame and fortune.

Mysterious circles in the sky! Aliens over Charlotte? Flying motorcycles doing spinouts in the clouds? Whatever this was, it was paranormal fame in the making! Surely I would take my picture on a tour of television shows. Josh Gates and Expedition Unknown, here I come! But no. It’s not what it looks like. These mysterious circles are not in the sky at all. Nor are they mysterious. They are simply the reflection of the circular airport ceiling lights off the windows. I posted the picture on my Facebook page and everyone who saw it was initially puzzled by the strange photo. When I gave them the explanation they were amazed that they had been fooled. Well, maybe not amazed. But the lesson is pretty obvious: it’s easy to be fooled by photos today, even when those photos have not been altered or photoshopped in any way.

from the pen of Jeff Joyner

I remember as a kid, my older brother got a brand new English Racer bicycle for Christmas. I was shocked at how nice it was, but instead of being happy for him, I became very jealous. What made it more difficult, was that he wouldn’t let me ride it, since he thought it was too big for me to handle. From that moment on, I was determined to prove him wrong, and began attempting to control and manipulate him into letting me ride his bike.

As the days went by, it was clear, he was not going to let me anywhere near his bike. This went on for some time, although I remained persistent. One day, much to my delight, he finally gave in, and said I could ride his bike just once, down the hill of our street. I felt my persistence had paid off. Basking in this personal victory, I confidently walked his bike up the hill, climbed on, and began my journey down. It didn’t take me long to realize, that I was going faster than I had ever gone before, on any bicycle. As I began to apply the pedal brakes to slow down, something unexpected happened. Instead of stopping the bike, the pedals kept spinning backwards. What I did not know, was that the brakes were on the handlebars, not the foot pedals. By the time I reached the bottom of the hill, I was going so fast, that I began to lose control, and eventually crashed into the side of a neighbor’s house. I learned that day, that patterns of control and manipulation, could never assure me of success. In fact, it led me straight into a brick wall. And it would be a long time, before I would be able to regain the trust of my brother again. Jesus said in Matthew 16:25: “For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.” A clear reminder that, If we are but willing to relinquish control of our lives to the Lord, we can be fully assured, that He will be faithful to direct our steps, light our way, and lead us safely home.

“Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.” Psalms‬ ‭37:3‬

Some time ago, maybe years ago, I wrote a post about the mysterious Voynich manuscript. This manuscript is a 15th century document containing bizarre drawings and an indecipherable language. Anyone who knows me at all understands why I would be interested in such a weird document. In case you missed that post, I will include a few pictures of the manuscript for you to puzzle over.

There have been several ‘translations’ of the manuscript in the last five years. One scholarly gentleman claimed it was written in a sort of abbreviated Latin and that it was a guide to women’s health. I’m not sure the pictures agree with that interpretation. Another expert found it to be Hebrew, but a secret coded Hebrew. His decoder ring was found to be in error. More recently, an electrical engineer claimed to recognize the language as an ancient style of poetic Turkish. He then translated portions of the book as proof of his hypothesis. His hypothesis was not very well accepted as he was accused of making assumptions and then using his assumptions to prove his assumptions. I guess unproven assumptions are frowned upon as evidence. Something I wish the internet at large would learn.

Other opinions have focused on herbal remedies, therapeutic bathing, and astrological readings. Ultimately, in spite of many attempts to decipher this manuscript, no satisfactory answers have been found. The lesson I’m focused on here is twofold. First, we should always seek to understand the world and the ideas of the world. Second, we should accept that we often will not be able to understand the world and the ideas of the world. It is better to say “I don’t know yet” than to invent bizarre unprovable explanations for things.

from the pen of Jeff Joyner

Most people have scars. My first one, I developed from an accident when I was four years old. One day, my mom and I were sitting on the patio in lawn chairs, when it began to rain. My parents would always fold up the chairs every time a storm came through, so I asked my mom if I could fold up mine, and put it away. Though she was a bit hesitant, she finally said I could. As I began to pick up the chair, my hand slipped, and one of my fingers got caught in one of the hinges, which ultimately required several stitches. To this day, I can still see the scar on my finger, which always reminds me of that painful experience from my childhood.

As time went by, my visible scars began to accumulate, whether it was from a bicycle accident, or a severely broken wrist. And each scar would tell a different story, of a specific pain or adversity, that I had endured from the past. I had also become aware, that there were additional scars, that were not visible. These were not from physical calamities, but from emotional ones. And often, I found that these wounds were generally much deeper, and would require a greater amount of time to heal.

Several years ago, I was in the midst of a crisis in my life, and began to ask God for direction. I had reached a point, where I had become extremely anxious about the future, and desperately needed to experience God’s peace. For a while, it seemed, the more I prayed, the more anxious I became. Finally, I whispered to the Lord, “I just have so many scars.” After sitting in silence for a while, I sensed my Savior responding, “I too have scars.” I knew right away what He was referring to. His hands. His feet. His side. As tears began rolling down my cheeks, I acknowledged once again, that it was His wounds that sealed my pardon. And that the scars I carry, are minuscule, compared to what he has done for me. I was ultimately able to experience God’s peace that day. For HE was pierced for my transgressions. HE was crushed for my iniquity. And by HIS wounds, I am healed.

“But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.” Isaiah‬ ‭53:5‬ ‭ See less