Our family reunion was wonderful once I got there. Sometimes life throws a curve and you can be so close yet so far away.
Craig Farm, my family homestead is off the beaten path down a nice, quiet road of farmland, grazing cattle and horses. The house is on the National Registry of Historical Landmarks since 1989. The home is refurbished, and is used for social events of all kinds including concerts, dinners, luncheons, and receptions. Across the street is the Kilburnie Inn on Craig Farm which is a bed and breakfast. The Inn sits on family land and is also used for many social events especially weddings.
Driving the scenic area would not be a typical place for what you may think as a trouble spot. There is a church at the end of the road where you turn off to the left to get on Craig Farm Road that leads to the farmhouse. Mostly open fields and woods line the road giving way to a serene and peaceful ride. Until Saturday.
About 200 feet from the turnoff I was stopped and wasn’t going anywhere until the police moved out of the way.
One officer had parked his car in the middle of the road as did his partner on the other side of the street blocking any cars from going anywhere. There was no right turn unless you decided a quick trip into the woods full of trees was your best escape route.
More policemen showed up. Blue lights flashing as they parked their vehicles as if to set up a blockade.
Going either way would have cuffed me for trying to drive through an army of cops. A dramatic movie scene was in the making as the police gathered in force as if protecting the road.
The only trustworthy instrument was my cell phone in case I needed to call the police. Oh. What police? They were all in front of me, around me, down the beaten path. They were of no help!
I turned my car off and sat. Maybe it was a license check. No.
There were too many officers for such an easy job.
Suddenly, the fear crept in my car. I could feel it climbing up my spine. The darts, no, the swords of evil penetrated my brain with thoughts like,
“You’re going to die.”
“A drug lord has escaped prison and is on the run.”
“A wanted murderer is on the loose and is armed and dangerous.”
All I could think of was what kind of ill fated hoodlum would dash out of the woods aiming a rifle ready to shoot at anyone or anything in front of him.
Prayer was the answer. I don’t carry a concealed weapon because I consider God’s angels who ride everywhere with me as ammunition. If this thing went off big I could make a run for it, or dive under the dashboard to avoid the onslaught of bullets.
In the mood for some great food, family intervention and a walk around the grounds of Craig Farm, a spirited cop feast searching for an escaped convict was not on my agenda.
The next few minutes appeared at least 15 more police vehicles. Many were motorcycles riding in a formatted line.
Behind this obvious police escort, rode one biker after another in a peaceful parade. Motorcycles of all shapes and sizes following each other in a show of respect were called the Faith Riders of South Carolina. A ministry of over 100 bikers making their way out of Lancaster most likely on their way to the grand strand for bike week at the beach.
The reverence in which these “gospel carriers” rode was intriguing. They were on a mission; a mission to preach Jesus.
I realized after they were gone, how quickly the devil attacked me. In an instant, he had thrown evil at me from all sides filling my mind with fear.
As quickly as the misery of evil converged on my soul it was all of a sudden, gone. The roar of the bikes; the code of conduct and awesome presence of God that surrounded these men and women of God ran him off with his tail in between his legs.
The way I see it is the devil is no match for a flock of Bible toting, motorcycle riding, faith filled bikers. In fact, only a fool would mess with that bunch.
For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.
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