My first encounter with Ron Swift involved the negotiation of a bride price, as practiced in many countries in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. My eldest son, Jason, had spent the summer of 2013 Facebook-stalking Ron’s daughter, Rachel, as she did mission work, rode elephants, and sported dreadlocks in Cambodia. I may have looked over Jason’s shoulder a time or two, wondering if Rachel was the one. Quite boldly and prematurely, I messaged Ron, offering 50 camels in exchange for Rachel, so that my son would have a life companion and someone to make him Ramen noodles. When Ron immediately accepted my offer, I knew that regardless of what happened with our children, he and I would get along just fine.

My next significant encounter with Ron occurred on the eve of Jason and Rachel’s 2014 wedding. The wedding venue had just held another event, and we couldn’t set up the outdoor seating until around midnight. So, in the light of the moon, Ron and I and a few others set up rows of chairs in a field in a place called Bald Knob. (Ron and I never saw any knobs, bald or otherwise.) The next morning, while officiating the ceremony, I walked up to Ron and handed him the 50^th and final camel, this one about three inches tall. The bride price was paid. The exchange of “I do’s” and rings soon followed.

Over the past eight years, my love and appreciation for Ron has only grown. He and his wife, Jackie, were crazy full-time RVers like my wife and I once were… living “in a van down by the river.” His love for Jackie, his children (Rachel and Nathan), my son, Jason, and the rest of his family was expressed regularly and never in doubt. You knew where you stood with Ron and that was a good place to be. The same could be said for “Libby,” his “best dog ever.” Ron understood dogs and dogs understood Ron.

Aside from his family, his dog, and his faith, Ron’s big passion was long-distance bike racing. He was good at it and found community with his fellow racers. When deciding the best places to park their RV for the next season, Ron always factored in the availability of suitable bike trails. Even after taking a nasty spill (or two or three) and injuring himself, he always looked forward to healing up and getting back on his bike.

Ron also faced a challenge most of us will never face—Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD). This condition resulted from many years of intense, stressful work as an anesthesiologist—specifically while taking care of critically ill or injured patients in the operating room. Few know the pressure of holding someone’s life in their hands. I mention it here because Ron never shied away from the subject. In fact, he and Jackie allowed me to interview them and include their story in my book, Faith in the Margins. Ron called the condition his “thorn in the flesh.” He shared his story because he wanted to help others going through similar struggles. He was empathetic to what others were facing.

In discussing his illness, Ron would refer to 2 Corinthians 12:7-9. Like Paul, Ron pleaded with God to take away his illness. As with Paul, the Lord’s response was, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Like Paul, Ron was willing to, “boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” Although PTSD was devastating to Ron, he told me he was learning to trust God’s sufficient grace. With each episode, God’s grace emerged.

So, Ron and his faithful companion, Jackie, endured much. He suffered many rough, debilitating days in anguish, unable to function. But there were also some peaceful days—some mountaintops. Playing guitar for family at Christmas. Exploring new places by RV with Jackie. Riding with friends. Vacations with family. Wrestling with his dog. All mountaintops. 

But the valleys were deep. Jackie told me that Satan gives you this false hope that things will improve, but sometimes they don’t. She said that if Satan was using this illness to crush Ron—to put him in a headlock—we must remember that Christ has Satan in a headlock.

Toward the end of the interview, Ron said, “We know how the story ends. Christ wins the battle. And I’m in Christ. If that doesn’t give me peace, nothing will. Listen, I wish the situation were different. I pray that it will get better. It might. But it might not. If God doesn’t take this away—if this is as good as it gets, so be it. I’m at peace with that. Let him use me for his glory.” Jackie added, “We have a home in Heaven. And we belong to a heavenly Father who loves us and gives us sonship through Christ (See Galatians 3:26-29).”

Ron said, “I’m counting on that sonship. Think about the prodigal son for a moment. He made some bad choices and ends up eating with pigs, an experience not unlike the valleys mental illness will put you in. But the story doesn’t end there. He ends up expecting, best case scenario, to be a servant to his father. To just be shown mercy. But his father does the unimaginable—he elevates his lost, messed up son to an heir! And he throws a party! My only hope in all this is that God will somehow do the same for me. I’m counting on it.”

Yesterday afternoon, God called Ron home. His family, friends, and all who knew Ron are devastated. In losing Ron, we lost someone special. 

But death doesn’t get the last word here. Satan doesn’t have the final say.

Ron was a Christian, you see, and that changes everything. 1 John 5:4 says, “For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith.” As a result, we can proclaim, “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? … But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord, Jesus Christ” (1 Cor. 15:54-57). What a promise!

In the end, Ron’s words to me were prophetic: “We know how the story ends. Christ wins the battle. And I’m in Christ.” 

I paid a silly bride price of camels for Rachel, but Christ quite seriously gave his very life to purchase those who are in Him. And Ron was, and remains, “in Him.”

We don’t know exactly what Heaven will be like, but we know it will be something special. Ron will exchange his RV for a mansion just over the hilltop. I envision him upgrading his bike for a faster one that doesn’t crash. He’ll exchange his bumps and bruises for a crown. And maybe, at least symbolically, he’ll be reunited with every dog he’s ever owned. I see them pinning him down and licking his face. I can hear his laughter.  

No more valleys—only mountaintops. No more anguish—only peace. Heaven is… as good as it gets. So, even as we cry today and in the days ahead, and there will be plenty of tears, we also need to remember Ron and smile. He was another of God’s special gifts to us. And he fought the good fight, he finished the race, and he kept the faith.

I just published my sixth book, Journey Through Genesis. Here’s a peek behind the curtain…

What’s it about?

It’s a devotional commentary on Genesis—the first book of the Bible. I cover all 50 chapters of Genesis, but unlike traditional commentaries, I don’t go verse by verse. Instead, I try to bring out salient points from each chapter—the things that spoke to me. I discuss ideas and principles that are applicable to my life. Hopefully, my readers can relate to that. 

How did the book come about?

The original idea came from a discussion I had with my sister, Stacy, several years ago during a family gathering at Christmas. We were discussing my dream of doing some faith-based writing, and she mentioned a need for more writing that helps ordinary people to better understand and relate to the Bible. She planted a seed. 

She was on to something?

Absolutely! The Bible is the most important, life-changing book ever written, containing the very words of God, and yet a 2021 survey of Americans found that 29% of people never read it and only 11% read it daily. Half of Americans read the Bible less than three times/year. More than a problem, that’s heartbreaking. It’s devastating to our culture and our future. A relationship with God—the most important relationship that exists—is built on two-way communication. We speak to God through prayer (Philippians 4:6-7 & 1 Thessalonians 5:17-18) and He speaks to us through the Bible (2 Peter 1:21, John 16:12-13, & 1 Corinthians 14:37). When we don’t read our Bibles, we cut God off, and the relationship becomes one-sided. If we also don’t pray, there’s no communication. Imagine a marriage relationship where neither spouse or only one spouse communicates. That’s a problem. This book is my modest attempt to encourage people to open or re-open their Bibles and let God talk to them.   

Why are fewer people reading the Bible these days?

Lots of reasons. We’re busy. Our days are full of activities—working, playing, raising children, maintaining stuff, etc. I’m afraid, at the end of a long day, too often “mindlessly streaming Netflix” or some other activity trumps “meditating on God’s Word.” Too often the Bible doesn’t bubble up on our list of priorities. And, if that sounds like finger-pointing, know that the first finger is pointed at myself. I’ve got work to do. 

I also think sometimes people view the Bible as old and outdated—a relic from the past. The old, dusty family Bible sits on Grandma’s bookshelf, next to her VHS player and flip phone. Quaint, but rarely opened. In the opening of my book, I compare many people’s views of the Bible to the way the young man views a bowl of flaky cereal in the 1992 Super Bowl commercial. He’s not sold on it—thinks it’s kind of boring—until he tries it. Like the young man in the commercial, sometimes we must taste something again “for the first time” in order to appreciate it.

So, you want people to try the Bible again for the first time?

Technically, that’s not possible. You can only try something for the first time once. Figuratively, though, it’s possible to see an old, familiar product in a new and different light. Old married couples can reflect on what first attracted them to their spouse and try to recapture the magic. You can retrieve the old bicycle gathering dust in the garage, wipe it off, grease the wheels, and take it for a ride on a new, exciting trail. Old things can be reimagined.

I’ve probably read or been told the story of Noah’s ark 200 times in my life. So, it’s tempting to not read it the 201^st time. I mean, what else could God possibly want to communicate to me through that story? It turns out, quite a lot. When I approached it, and the rest of Genesis, with an open heart and a fresh set of eyes, God opened the spigot. I saw things at age 56 that I hadn’t seen before, and I wrote down what I learned. 

Why Genesis?

Genesis provides the stage-setting—the context—for the rest of the Bible. To understand where you are and where you’re going, it helps to know where and how you began. We get that in the first few pages. This book of beginnings, written by Moses under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, sets forth the origin of the universe, humanity, culture, languages, marriage, family, sin, death, sacrifice, redemption, cities, and civilization. Genesis answers some of the most basic, yet profound questions you’ll ever ponder. “How did I end up as a human being on Planet Earth?” “Who’s responsible for this magnificent universe we live in?” “Why am I here?” To better understand our heavenly Father’s actions toward humankind throughout the Bible, it’s valuable to know how He felt about us right from the start.

As with your other books, you continue to self-publish. Why is that?

Unlike some writers who consider writing a career, for me it’s a hobby. I enjoy and benefit from the process. This book, as an example, had me opening God’s Word almost every day for the past nearly two years. That’s a good thing—a useful hobby. I hope others enjoy and share my book with their friends and neighbors. But I don’t track sales or proceeds and do very little marketing. I don’t enjoy that aspect of the process and don’t get caught up in that—not at my age. Turning my hobby into a business would suck the joy out of it for me.  

I also like having complete control over content. When I wrote my books on hiking the Appalachian Trail, I didn’t want an outdoor/adventure publisher asking me to take out all the “God stuff,” nor did I want a Christian publisher asking me to take out references to bodily functions. On the AT, I experienced God and experienced some odd, humorous moments of bodily functions. With my books, you get what’s on my heart—the raw, real me—for better or worse. I don’t have a publishing company telling me what, when, or how to write.

What’s on the horizon?

I currently have two irons in the fire. The first is a memoir of sorts—scenes from my life and what I’ve learned along the way. I’ve been going through scrapbooks and photo albums and talking to family members. I’m finding that looking back on my life and trying to make sense of it is a challenging and useful exercise. I’m also working on a sequel to Faith in the Margins. I’ve gotten good feedback on that book and there’s always new material coming in. Beyond that, who knows? Maybe a Journey Through Exodus? Whatever I’m working on, you’ll find me with a cup of coffee either at Vienna Coffee Shop, the Blount County library, or on my back porch.

Final Thoughts?

First, I want to thank the “Fab 5” who read and provided feedback to me on early drafts of this book. Chase Turner, Todd Tipton, and Janet, Jason, and Kyle Johnson took this journey with me and provided key insights that helped me shape the narrative. They saw things I had missed and simply made the book better. I am eternally grateful to them!

I also just want to encourage everyone to read their Bible. Like I said, it’s the most important, life-changing book ever written. Sure, there are parts that can be tough to get through. But other parts provide hope and meaning and purpose. God reveals His love and His plan for humankind. Jesus tells us and shows us how to please God and live the very best life. For me to know what God’s Word can do and not share it would be like a physician having a life-saving drug and not prescribing it. With whatever time I have left, I hope my books can in some way point people to our amazing God.

I hope Journey Through Genesis—available on Amazon—will encourage people to pick up the Bible and “read it again for the first time.” I hope it draws out some practical applications of the text for you. I hope you’ll share it with others because you are my only marketing team. But whether you read my book or not, read God’s Word. It’s inspired. It’s the one and only God who created you and loves you wanting to have a conversation with you. I promise you reading and meditating on the Bible will change your life for the better.

On our way from the airport to the parsonage yesterday, I asked my friend Carl about projects needing done during our month in Maui. He thought for a moment and said, “If you see something that needs done, just do it.”

Hmmm.

I would have preferred, “Take out the garbage weekly.” Or “Offer an invitation at the end of your sermons.” Or “Brush your teeth regularly.” I also prefer when my wife tells me “The bed could be made” or “The grass is getting a little high.”

Doing what we’re told to do is FAR easier than doing what needs to be done. It takes less energy. Less perceptiveness. Less creativity. Carl, whether intentional or not, was challenging me to up my game—to raise the bar. I wish I hadn’t asked.

Of course, he didn’t invent “Just do it.” I think he got it from the suits at Nike. They may have gotten it from God, who may have said it to a puzzled Noah after telling him to build an ark. Yes, God gave Noah many specific instructions on how to build the floating container. 

But my concern here is not doing what we’re told. That’s a good lesson for the 1^st graders I occasionally teach. My concern is seeing something that needs done and just doing it. That’s graduate level Christianity. That’s our challenge on Maui, and that’s my challenge to you.

If the old man is hungry, feed him.

If the child needs clothes, clothe her.

If a single mom needs groceries, buy them.

If a jobless dad can’t pay a bill, pay it.

If students need mentoring, mentor them.

If a poor person in a foreign country needs a home, go build it.

If the Walmart checkout clerk needs a smile and compliment, offer them.

If a flood-ravaged home needs mud removed, remove it.

If the parents of a special-needs child need a break, provide it.

If the widow need encouraging, visit her.

If prisoners need hope, bring it to them.

If someone hasn’t met Jesus, introduce them.

Having to be reminded to take out the trash or make your bed is cute in your first month of earning a childhood allowance. Being told to “rinse the ‘hars’ out of the tub”—as my wife once put it—is funny in the first week of marriage. However, only doing what one is told to do grows tiresome. In matters of faith, it reflects spiritual immaturity.

The world doesn’t need more ideas. My restless mind pumps out ideas daily—the good, feasible ones are rare and mostly ineffectual. The world doesn’t need more critics. Yes, we know you would have done it a better way. The world doesn’t need more sideline observers. Change happens in the arena.

No, what the world needs are more doers—more Christians in the game. More Christians who have been taken hostage by James 1:27, which reads, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.”

Today, I hope we make our beds, take out the trash, and mow the grass. Let’s do what we’re told. And then, I hope God gives us the eyes to see “something that needs done” and the courage to “just do it.”

Every disaster area offers a blend of devastation and healing, of heartbreak and hope. Every day, God presents the volunteer with a person, an image, or a story. Each random, unexpected blessing is an antidote for the poisonous, soul-crushing environment you find yourself in.

Yesterday, our first day working in Marshall County, Kentucky, God offered two images that struck home.

First, the easel. Around 10 o’clock on the night of December 10^th, a young girl and her family huddled in the basement as a nearly 250-mile long, EF4 tornado ripped apart their home and wreaked havoc across her native Kentucky and four other states. The 190 mph winds took the lives of 90 souls, including 75 in Kentucky, and left more than 125 injured. 

Thankfully, the girl, her autistic brother, and her mother were spared. Her father, tragically, had died two weeks prior from a heart attack while sitting in his recliner the day after Thanksgiving. The girl and her family emerged from the rubble and walked through the ruins of their family compound the following day. Only one of the girl’s possessions remained intact and unscathed: an easel. I don’t know what it was like for her to stand in a debris-littered yard with nothing but the clothes on her back, holding her only remaining possession. I suppose she was forever changed.

Had the story ended there, that would be enough. A young tornado victim being reunited with her easel is the hope among heartbreak, the healing among devastation. Remarkably, the young girl had something more in mind. She donated the easel to her church—the people who were busy helping her family and other storm victims. “Unless you become like little children…” Jesus once said.

The young girl’s easel is among the first things seen by church members and relief workers upon entering the church’s Fellowship Hall. It contains a message of hope for all who enter: “God’s got this.” For those who know the backstory, the easel represents something more. It reminds us of a little girl who gave up her only possession. She gave us her all.

That brings us to image #2. While knocking doors and assessing needs on Benton’s Carriage Lane, my friend Donna and I walked by a property with no door to knock, bell to ring, or window to tap. All that remains is the home’s foundation and a tree stump. In insurance terms, this is a “total loss.”

Upon closer examination, though, we found something else. Whoever had cut up the downed tree had gone to the trouble to carve a cross from its trunk. Yes, on the south end of Carriage Lane, on a foundation with everything else blown away, all that remains is a cross.

Like the easel, that cross will stick with me for, well, maybe forever.  

Long after my Maryville home is gone, the cross will remain.

Long after my life savings are spent or passed on, the cross will remain.

Long after my prized possessions are rendered useless, the cross will remain.

Long after my physical body has returned to dust, the cross will remain.

Long after a life spent pursuing, acquiring, and becoming, Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection are all that will remain. 

The easel and the cross. The healing and the hope. The first two of many gifts to be unwrapped in the Benton/Mayfield disaster area. 

All because of a girl who gave all that she had.

And a Savior who gave even more.