The Farm

The planks in the flat wooden bridge made deep rumbling sounds as I crossed over it in my 1949 Ford pickup truck. The pipes that made up the cattle gate a hundred feet up the road also gave out a rumbling sound, but it was more metallic and occurred in a quicker secession.

The truck had belonged to my grandfather and had been sitting abandoned in the old tile garage until I bought it from my uncle for next to nothing. The floor board was rusted through and I could see a blur of gravel dart beneath my feet as I made my way up the long, tree sided lane that led to the main house.

The rumbling of the bridge and the rattle of the cattle gate reminded me of the small earthquake of emotions erupting in me as I entered a new and exciting part of my life. I had no way of knowing the magnitude of the life changing events that lay ahead of me, but I sensed in my spirit that this was big. My hands were trembling and my stomach uneasy as I walked up to the front door of the stone house which was the home of Tommy Lyne, the owner of this farm. Behind me, in my truck, was my dog, a few clothes and one of my guitars. The fact that I had fled the city of Bowling Green without the other guitar was testimony of how serious I took this new step in my life.

Lou, a girl who had mysteriously appeared into my life a few weeks earlier,had spent a week trying to talk me out of the move, letting me know that from her professional perspective (she was a psychologist) I was heading down a sure path to insanity. She was a x-girl friend of a friend and I had always had a thing for her. I found it significant that she had come into my life at this time, apparently willing to meet all of my needs and give me professional psychiatric advice at the same time. Her words did cause me pause, but deep in my heart, I was certain that she was wrong. Still, this drastic change in my life was intimidating and I will confess, I was a bit frightened by it. After all, going to live on a farm full of crazy "born-again" Christians wasn't exactly my ideal model of rational thought either, but a week before I had encountered a spiritual force that had changed my whole world and it was gently prodding me in this directions and I was ready to go.

“The Farm” was a 240 acre working business where corn, wheat, soybean, cattle and hogs were produced. On the surface, it looked just like all of the other farms in the area, but in truth, it was in many ways in another country or dimension where the rules of the universe were somehow changed. One could feel the shift when crossing the “Hallelujah Bridge” and then over the cattle gate. There was a certain kind of “other worldliness” to the place. Perhaps, it was because the pace was quite a bit slower than the hustle and bustle of the city, or possibly it was the isolation from the rest of community by the long gravel road and tree lined creek that made it seem mysterious. Some might say it was the spiritual activity that went on at this place at a regular interval. Indeed, souls were crossing over to new birth, demons were set to flight and sick bodies were being healed both physically and spiritually. Others would say that it was really spiritual oppression, dominating the weak and docile, herding them into submission like a flock of dumb beast. Looking back, I think it might have been a combination of all of the above, but the spiritual nature of this location is without question in my mind.

This commune was also a haven for a handful of refugees from the world of sin. I had been there once before working on a neighboring tobacco patch. We had a dead battery in the tractor and since Tommy was the brother of the fellow who had put the work crew together, we went to the farm for assistance. I can still vividly remember several of the residents of the place gathering around us as we were leaving. The girls had long hair and were clad in bluejean skirts. The guys worn bell bottom jeans and work boots. They looked much like all my other friends but they spoke passionately about Jesus and I was surprised at how intensely their words had affected me. I left cursing them and mocking their words, but I was shaken to my very core. It was just a matter of time until I met Him in a real way and surrendered my life to Him.

So this is where the story begins, a place of new birth for me. I was a 23 year old, a strung out and broken hippie. My life over the last few years had seen me change from a devout Catholic High School boy, to a lonesome and searching college kid who found a whole new culture in the hippie movement of the ‘60s.Those years of drug experimentation, free love and the anti-war politics of the day had left me bewildered and confused. Add to that the aching pain of lost love, and I was in a place that was ripe for serious overhaul. I had always hungered for spiritual truth, even in the midst of my rejection of the faith of my childhood. My flight into drugs was motivated by this quest and I had little patience for “recreational drug use”. I used mind expanding drugs, listened to the Moody Blues, and flew in Tim Leary’s LSD airplane, while studying the Tibetan Book of the Dead and practicing eastern meditation.

It was from this whirlpool, with the certainty of drowning, that I emerged to a new life full of freshness and hope. Appearing unannounced on Tommy’s front porch with the question, “What must I do to be saved” on my lips, I was met joyfully and ushered into the kingdom of heaven. After a time of talk, then prayer, I took a short journey on the back of a flat bed trailer to a small creek where I was baptized into death and resurrection. I met the dawn with a lucidity that I have never known before. It was like the time in my youth when I was given glasses to correct my condition of a lazy eye. I didn’t really need the glasses and all they actually accomplished was to dull the clarity of the world. When I took them off I actually saw much better. That was what this first new morning was like for me. I arose at daybreak and serenaded a group of horses with my guitar with the new song that I had been given.

Over the next two years, I would discover great wonders and also sink to deep depths. The isolation from the world gave me time to study God’s word, pray,fast and deal with the demons that tormented me. It was a time of purging, a time of trial and a time of renewing. I am very grateful that I had this place of refuge. I’m not sure that I could have survived without it. There is much more to write concerning this time in my life, some of it good and some of it bad. Indeed, the time I spent with these people spanned twelve years and it was a twisted and complicated journey. After a two year time of purging I would leave the farm to get a job offsite. Eventually I would return as an employee. I would marry, have children and learn many more lessons. I hope to share some of them in the future, but for now I will simply state my gratefulness for the years that I lived there. It was truly a wonderful as well as frustrating time.