Burke County

“For behold, he who forms the mountains, creates the wind, declares to man his thought, who makes the morning darkness, and treads on the heights of the earth— the LORD, the God of hosts, is his name!”
– Amos 4:13

One is often driven by the slightest notion, be it relevant or not, to their existence. From a passing comment to the implied message in a sermon, it sometimes takes time for a thought to percolate into an individual’s collective consciousness—albeit for some longer than others.

So, as the tall, slender man in his late twenties, with a blond growth upon his chin like the dew that glistens across the meadow at sunrise, made his way up the Fire Tower Trail, nobody noticed the forced urgency in his steps. No one could see from the outside that there was an inner turmoil keeping pace with his long stride, growing more agitated as he rapidly climbed toward the peak.

“How can I be assured,” Edwin kept asking himself, recalling the pastor’s sermon on salvation the previous Sunday. “After accepting Christ into my life, giving it all over to Him, how can I truly be assured that I am saved?”

He continued to question his imaginary companions as he leaned into the headwind that almost knocked him sideways, as if to punish his insolence. Edwin was reminded by his young wife, Nancy, that it was the fruits of the Spirit he should see in his life. But for some reason, that still did not answer the question: “How—just how—could he be certain?”

By the time he reached the tower, the sunshine had dissipated into a wax-paper sky. Whether it was the change in weather or the altitude, for a moment the tormenting question that had hounded him seemed to abate.

From atop the metal structure erected long ago as a sentinel against forest fires, he had to grip the railing with one hand to steady himself against gale-force winds that now threatened to blow off his weathered ball cap. In the distance, like tiny toy boxes, the town of Boone and the campus of Appalachian State lay nestled in winter attire, shrouded in browns and grays with stray patches of snow. From this vantage point, one could not see the daily grind of the tranquil college town below.

It was there that Edwin pursued his master’s degree in computer science—wrestling logic and reason, cramming information into his mind until his head ached into the wee hours of the morning. It was there he had met Nancy during his undergraduate years, and shortly after graduation they were wed. Up to this point, his life had been blessed beyond measure.

“So why am I troubled?” he wondered as the wind buffeted his reflections. “Why am I letting something so seemingly insignificant get to me?”

There was not another soul on the trail that Saturday afternoon. Turning to leave the 360-degree vantage point, his foot struck something resting on the deck. He watched as it tumbled, ricocheting down the metal stairs until it landed on a patch of vibrant green moss below.

Curious, Edwin raced down and found what appeared to be a crystal teardrop pendant set in ancient-looking metalwork. He held it to the fading light and noticed a peculiar illumination passing through it. Deciding he would return it to the information center at Cone Manor, he slipped it into his jeans pocket and hurried down the mountain.

To the south, dark clouds turned a deep cerulean blue—nearly purple—forewarning of a heavy storm. Snow soon began to fall. The cold wind cut through him, and he questioned his spontaneous decision to hike that day.

Approaching the tunnel beneath the parkway, he longed for the warmth of his car. The stone passageway seemed to take on a life of its own. Moss and lichens clung to granite, as if the rocks themselves breathed.

As Jesus said, “I tell you that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.”

Truth be known, these stones would have shouted at Edwin if they could.

Snow thickened. The tunnel grew darker. Yet at the far end, a bright blue sky appeared—brilliant and inviting—while behind him the world remained gray and frozen.

Lowering his shoulder into the headwind, he stepped into the shadows of the tunnel. Behind him lay the cold reality he knew too well. Before him shimmered warm, golden light.

Just before stepping out, something made him pause.

A childhood memory surfaced.

On his grandfather’s Ashe County farm, he and his cousin Tucker had once climbed atop a grain silo. The golden corn below had beckoned like treasure. But their grandfather had shouted in alarm: “That grain’ll kill you! It’ll swallow you up!”

They obeyed. Later, their grandfather explained how grain could behave like quicksand, suffocating those who entered.

They never forgot.

Now, standing at the mouth of the tunnel, Edwin remembered.

The golden warmth before him. The freezing storm behind him.

Why stop?

Yet something whispered caution.

“Those who are pure of heart can more easily hear the voice of God,” his grandmother used to say.

Unaware of the full warning, Edwin stepped beyond the tunnel into the golden sunlight.

And all at once, everything—and nothing—changed.

To be continued…

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Timothy W. Tron lives in Collettsville, NC. with his family. He is currently the Systems Administrator for the Computer Science Department at App. State. Timothy is the former Director of the Trail of Faith in Valdese, where he still volunteers and helps with tours. He is the author of a new Christian series, “Children of the Light”, with the first book being, “Bruecke to Heaven”, revised as “Bridge to Heaven”, and his recent book, being the second, “The Light in the Darkness”. He is an active blogger, artist, and musician. Timothy also has a BSEE from UF, and is a Lay Speaker. He is currently acting as the Faculty/Staff Liaison for the Ratio Christi campus ministry at App. State. He can be reached at [email protected]  You can visit his website at //www.timothywtron.com/ or see more of his writings HERE

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