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Highway Ministry is a ministry directed at the trucking industry. It is a non-profit organization with its mission to proclaim and establish the Word and LOVE of Jesus Christ in the hearts of all people that are directly or indirectly involved in the trucking industry. We do not propagate any controversial doctrine. The Bible verse from Luke 14:23 "And the Lord said unto the servant, “GO OUT INTO THE HIGHWAYS AND LANES AND COMPEL THEM TO COME IN, THAT MY HOUSE MAY BE FILLED" was the absolute inspiration behind the Ministry. Finding the solutions to problems rather than preaching without offering alternatives, is the objective of Highway Ministry. Since the transport industry is plagued by various social issues, the Ministry aims at providing a complete spectrum of support services dealing with problems such as alcohol and other drug related dependencies, AIDS/HIV, marital discord, prostitution as well as focusing on general skills for a healthy and integrated lifestyle. A

A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out. Walter Winchell It would seem to me that the term friend has become diluted over the years, in meaning, like a lot of other things I suppose. The last couple of weeks I have been wrestling with the values of friendship. When I was growing up there was a time of my my life that I was placed under my Grandmothers care for a few years. One time in relating something that had happened, I had mentioned someone was my friend. My Grandmother started asking me questions, none of which I could really answer, she then informed me that friends knew friends very well, people who knew each other in passing were acquaintances . Friend was a term reserved for one who stood by you through thick and thin, who was prepared to tell you the truth, and who cared about you regardless of that truth, and if you were a real friend you applied the same principles in return. A couple of weeks ago I heard that an old friend of mine had died

"At times our own light goes out, and is rekindled from a spark by another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame with in us." Albert Schweitzer 1875-1965. It is that time of the year again when there is a heap of articles and newsletters on Thanksgiving. I personally have never celebrated a thanksgiving day as such, not being an American, that is not unusual. However I can relate to the underlying theme of the articles and newsletters. I can relate to being grateful . One time I was in dire straits, I had invested everything I had into making a large number of units, of a certain product confident I would secure a large order from a wholesaler. Needles to say the deal never got off the ground. The same day after returning from the meeting with the wholesaler, I sat and watched t.v. in a daze, I must admit I had offered a half hearted prayer for help after the meeting. There was a writer discussing writing and he spoke a

I received an e mail the other day; I actually received close on to a hundred and fifty, a few weeks ago I commented about how blessed I was that I didnt get that much spam; I think I must have unleashed a commentators mocker on myself, since then I have been deluged with spam. I know I can put a filter on to block it, but then the filter blocks out a lot of what I need to read as well, so I just delete as I go along without reading the obvious spam, sometimes they come disguised like that reads beautifull day and when it is opened with the attachment, a virus not only crashes but downloads e mails and passwords. I was sent a warning on it, I treat all warnings and chain emails with a certain amount skeptisim, unless I know the person who sent me the warning and wrote it themselves. I have digressed, ( As Forest Gump would say "Again"). As I was saying I received an email, which unfortunately I have deleted, however the gist of the message had to do with routines and writing

"They that wait upon the Lord, shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary and they shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40:31 I am always in a hurry, impatient to get things done, to get going; a lot of the sooner I get going the sooner I can get finished attitude. So the last couple of weeks have been hard for me, with electrical thunder storms, landline struck by lightning giving me haphazard intermittent online access a couple minutes here and there anything long getting wiped out and lost. Sometimes wishing that there are things in my past I have said and done could go the same way. I am digressing again. It was'nt only the storms and the landline, it was also my direct line in my quiet time where there was no clear reception. I kept on getting led to Isaiah 40:31 and Psalm 32:8 To wait, to me, is shorthand for procrastinate and to be banished and usual I questioned this waiting, hanging around....Time waits fo

Ever find yourself drifting along mentally when doing a menial task you dont enjoy doing? A task that needs to be done, which dosent require thinking just doing. That happens to me when I have to work in the garden. We are into summer here, and with it the start of the rainy season, the electrical thunder storms, strong winds and of course the profusion of plant life. From the winds aftermath the clearing of the debri, broken branches twigs and leaves. Rain dosent make only the garden grow, but weeds and syringa berries too. I'm often amused at the irony of planting trees, digging the hole, preparing the soil, the compost, manure; planting and care just to get it to grow where I really want it to grow. The syringa berry will grow where it falls with thousands of others to keep it company all where I dont want them. It was in uprooting what seemed a thousand of them, though probably only fifty odd, I thought of trees and seeds. In Matthew :13, we find the parable of the sower, we

I had a dream last night. I dreamt that everything I cherish was stripped away from me, almost like Job, in the old testament. In the midst of this despair and confusion a man stood before me, bare footed long hair and a long beard, clothed in tattered rags. His eyes were piercing looking straight into me as he said " I want you to come with me. I want you to meet God." I was scared yet I followed him. Why was I scared? I believe God to be kind, loving merciful and compassionate. Not harsh judgemental or unforgiving. So why was I scared? Was I scared because I was guilty? How often has guilt stood in my way of wanting to meet with God? As the Psalmist wrote, "you know my every thought." God has promised if I confess he will forgive, maybe I need to forgive myself. The beggar took me inside me, to look at myself as I really am; not giving God the glory and credit for all the things that go well in my life; the sometimes seeming unsurmountable obstacles that I overc

If somebody had to ask you a few months or a year from now, "What did you do whilst innocent, unarmed people were murdered in Burma?", what would you say you did? I would have to say: "I just sat and cried." If they had to ask you, "What could you have done?", what would you say? I'm just an ordinary guy trying to be a humble scribe, I don't have any friends or even aquaintances in high places with pull, or an inside track to media, or the right ears. I'm not rich or famous, I don't even know anyone who is. Watching the scenes on TV of the events in Burma, I was left stunned, shocked into silence; I just sat and cried. I went into the Net. Again, I just sat and cried when I visited Blogging for Burma . I felt even more helpless, I wanted to say something, do something. Lack of skill with words leaves me robbed of having anything to say. If I could climb through this screen right now, I would take your hand on the mouse and go into Bloggi

Some time ago, a few years ago actually, a friend and I went to a beautifull part of South Africa; the Golden Gate area, part of the Drackensberg mountain range. My friend a short cropped I.T yuppie in his early twenties, me an aging hippy, long hair and beard lacking only the peace medalion. We went for the week between Christmas and new year, to plan for the upcoming year the marketing of products that we had decided to pool together for weekend trading. The caravan park and camping site where we chose to stay had horse and hiking trails, in the surrounding sandstone mountain areas; the hiking trails included fossilised sites as well as alcoves with San rock art, George was also scared of horses so we took the hiking trails. The first morning before we set off I noticed he was filling bottles of water from a tap and putting them into a shoulder bag, he saw me watching him,he asked me where was my water, I pointed to the mountains. George made it clear if I wasnt going to take water

Unless you are really serious about being serious, you are only playing games... This thought came to me in reading 2 Corinthians 5:11-19. It talks about being new creatures in Christ, forgetting what has happened in the past. I can't forget the past - it is past experiences that influences my decisions, knowing what works and doesn't. At the same time I cannot live in it to the extent that it stops me from moving forward. Before I can move forward, I have to seek forgiveness, as well as forgive those that I have wronged or felt they have wronged me. It is easier to forgive than to ask forgiveness. To ask for forgiveness and to be sincere about it, I have to admit I was wrong. Not only to admit that I was wrong, yet to admit it without self-justifying tags attached to it. Efesians 4:31-32, Mark 11:25-26 It would be easier to walk away from the forgiveness issue. As long as I postpone it or ignore it, I will not be able to enter that area where I am relying on His streng

"This was the unkindest cut." Julius Ceaser act 3. Mark Anthony says these words, he is speaking of Cassius stabbing Julius Ceaser. It was the unkindest cut because of Julius love and trust for Cassius. Child abuse is the unkindest cut of all, because of the love and trust children place in us adults, a love they give freely, and when abused, if they survive their future ruined because of that abuse. Recent cases comes to mind, yesterday 26th Sep: a date has been set for the trial of a man who allegedly raped and murdered 11 yr old Annastacia Wiese, he is also charged of raping a three year old girl. Last month in the first week, a man was sentenced in the Cape high court, for sodomising and murdering six year old Steven Siebert. Other recent cases for this year : 7 yr old Sheldean Human, Pretoria, raped and murdered. February. 11yr old Annastacia Wiese, Cape Town raped and Murdered March. 8 yr old Refiane Ringane Limpopo Province murdered June. 2 yr old Sonja Brown western C

I have never looked up the word "Prodigal" in the dictionary until today, I didn't have to - I knew what it meant. Everybody knows what it means, everybody who has read or heard the story of the prodigal son, knows what it means. What does it mean to you? To me it always meant simply the one who went away and came back, or went astray ... along these lines. That was the impression that I got the first time that I heard the story, and it never changed, till today. Which means for 50 odd years I have had the wrong impression on something. In itself not important, it is after all only a word. Yet how often don't I make a snap judgement on something, only to find out later how wrong I was, and then go and eat humble pie a la mode. There have been times when I didn't need to eat the pie, as my impressions have been private and personal. However, the revelation of the impression no less humbling personally. Jay was a quiet unassuming guy - didn't say much, pr

We live in an instant world, to the point where a click on a mouse can direct us in milliseconds to millions of choices. Old favorites will appear on our screens in an instant. Is this instannt gratification carried over into our every day and spiritual lives? Has God become a favorite that we havent used for a long time? When needed he must perform instantly, in the perception that we want a God who is all-knowing and all-powerful to Whom nothing is impossible, yet still control Him, we want to tell Him what to do, when where and how and above all it must be in an instant. There are even secret formulae and mantras, pray like this, chant it like that x times and it will happen in an instant. A close relationship isnt built up in an instant. If you have been hurt in the past by someone, it takes time for that hurt to heal, it takes time to learn to trust again, you spend time together, doing things together because that is what it takes to build friendship and trust. Maybe you have be

I have read many times, if you save a life you are responsibile for it. What happens when my life is saved? Do I owe a responsibility to that which saved my life? After all said and done, I would not have the same life without the intervention. Some time ago, whilst driving in the Limpopo Province returning from a private game reserve, my better half and I were discussing the changes and development in the province. The promoting of game farms, holiday resorts all highlighting the province's natrual beauty and attrations. In my normal manner I digressed from development to talk about birds. In particular the fascinating habits of weavers. More than 150 different species, three quarters of them prevalent in Africa. Needless to say my discourse was not given scientifically or in textbook style. At the end of my impromptu lesson my better-half told me I really had a gift. I assumed she meant the gift of the gab. Several years ago, I was hitch hiking to Cape Town from Johannesburg. I w

A silence like a lost soul trapped to ideals and dreams in search of it's whole; with parts lost in life streams, others shackled by chains. Bits strewn in spindrifts and drowned in rains while waiting for the freeing lifts. A silence like a man and wife sitting at breakfast welded together in life, held in a clenched fist what they had to say, they had said too soon. now the empty hours lay tightly closed in a cocoon A silence like a dream stillborn a truth unspoken; emotions fully worn memories the only token of times swept and spent in the wake of yesterdays broom; of hours that had been illspent lay buried in a tomb. Stan