Purpose Driven

Applying Faith in this Complex World

Kelly James Martin

• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781647539290
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Personal Development
• Subtopic: Self Improvement

One who looks for the potential in each individual, Kelly Martin, in this biography of his own life's struggles, shares the thoughts and feelings of one who is striving for achievement. Each one of us, on this planet we call Earth, is on a journey, one on which there are unknown roadblocks along the way.

To live a life of success, we each must deal with many different personalities, not all of which have our best interests in mind. Wrought with unmarked intersections or "splits" in the road, there are also many decisions one must make, some of those emerging as major setbacks to progress if the wrong path is taken. There are "pits" along the road waiting to swallow the careless or the unwary.

Over the years, Mr. Martin has met many people of a diverse number of backgrounds. He believes that everybody has a story to tell and that each individual can "climb out" of whatever pit they might find themselves in; they can achieve their goals through faith, given the necessary encouragement along the way.

We each have our battles to fight. In this book, he takes us back to a famous battle that occurred during World War II, paralleling life's challenges with the survival of one participant of that battle.

ADVENTURE AWAITS

Leaving for college, I began the 14-hour drive to what would be the start of a new adventure. There was plenty of time to think, as I experienced feelings of both anticipation as well as those of self-doubt. When you start a new pursuit, do you experience those feelings? My belief is that, if you don’t, you may not be committed to succeeding or else you may be in denial. Most of us need some kind of support, especially when we “leave the nest” for the first time. We can’t do it on our own. 1 Corinthians 13 says to “be watchful, stand firm in your faith, be courageous, be strong.”

My first week in college, I learned of the death of my good friend from high school, George. He was the one who welcomed me when I first moved to a new town, offering to go riding on the bicycles. This was a friend who always had a smile, who liked having fun, who all my classmates held in high regard. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen. Why would God take the life of such a wonderful and young individual? I was devastated. Did I have the faith to continue on, there, in this new environment where I knew almost nobody?

I was invited to a party where young men were being recruited for joining a fraternity. Needing to break out of my depression, I decided to attend two of these (shopping, so to speak), although all I knew about fraternities was what I had seen on television, most of it quite negative.

When I found out a particular fraternity emphasized high standards on academics and that it supported St. Jude’s Childrens Hospital, I was in. Being in Oklahoma, two states away from home, it was too expensive to drive home very often. This was a group of guys – from several parts of the U.S. - that I could hang around with and build bonds with. Okay, I admit, they also had events with the “Little Sisters”, a group of young ladies who supported the fraternity. Missing them, I was used to having my two sisters around.

One evening, I was building those bonds, watching a movie with two of my cohorts, fellow pledges Carl and Greg. As the first movie finished, I thought about the test I needed to study for. I parted company and left the student union building, heading below the streetlights for the approximately 2-block walk towards my dormitory. When you are, as I was, a “pledge”, it is like a fraternity brother wannabe. You have limited rights and you must earn your way into fraternity membership. One thing you want to avoid is being caught by a member on campus without the 2-feet-long wooden paddle that identifies you as being a pledge of a particular fraternity.

And so it was, when a pledge of a rival fraternity, apparently leaving a party, saw and greeted me. Approaching closer, he realized his mistake and quickly changed his demeanor. Next thing I know, this scruffy-looking, bearded monster is scowling and is right in my face, telling me how much he dislikes my fraternity. Now, my friend Carl is a Marine who puts up with guff from nobody and I’m hoping he or Greg happens to be looking out the window of the building I just left. At the same time, I am evaluating how large this guy is who now has his hand on my throat and is looking down at me menacingly. He is not a guy I want to scrap with, easily outweighing me by 40 pounds or so. My attempt to talk my way out of the situation is fruitless and I dropped my oak paddle as he lifted me off the ground, tearing my jacket.

He tore my jacket!! That is where I lost my cool and switched tactics. I was on a tight budget, trying to get through college, and this thug thinks he can tear my jacket! Ever watch The Incredible Hulk? Well I didn’t split out of my shirt, but I pushed on his chest with both hands, at the same time calling him a name that I don’t want to repeat here.

Having now dropped me, he was off balance and I, having dropped my glasses, recognized I was in for the fight of my life. As I saw him coming at me, fists flying, I did the only thing I knew to do; I went for the takedown. He wasn’t expecting that move and I managed to knock him down. Now my sister (or perhaps both of them) had always accused me of being hard-headed. I don’t deny it. As I thought of every move I had learned in wrestling, I could feel the fists repeatedly hitting the back of my head. The two of us rolled off the sidewalk and up against a parked car next to the curb. My back was up against it and he was facing away from me when I saw my opportunity. My right arm was free. This drunk and crazed beast was about to learn about hypoxia. I reached around his neck, pulling tight and cutting off his oxygen supply. When I felt the grip he had on my hair loosen, and realized he was choking, I let go. After all, I had no intention of killing the guy; I was just defending myself.

Standing in the background through all of this was the guy’s friend who seemed to want no part of this. Now shaking from the adrenalin flow, I located my glasses, keeping an eye on this guy, in case he wanted more. His friend urged him away.

“Why, God, does life have to be this hard?” I’m an easy-going guy with a positive attitude and a love for life. I don’t go around picking fights. Still a bit dazed, I next headed to my girlfriend’s dorm, knocking on her door. Surprised to see me, she had a stunned look on her face, seeing my torn jacket and dirt all over me. I told her about what had just happened.

I’m man enough to admit that I was scared, at least up to the point where my jacket ripped. Once again, God had given me the skills I needed to get through a tough situation. Reflecting silently, alone in my dorm room that night, I wondered if I had what it takes, ie: did I have the fortitude and determination it took to earn that degree? Was this a sign that I wasn’t following God’s will for me?

I am convinced that God has a sense of humor, and he gave us the same to help us out. In the next few days, as word of this incident spread, I not only felt like I was my girlfriend’s hero (she did not like most of the members of that particular fraternity), but I gained many points with my peers. They even jokingly coined the nickname “Killer” for me, as my normal demeanor was quite calm. Many years later some of my colleagues still call me that.

Eventually came graduation day, the day I looked forward to because I could say, “Dad, I got that degree!” It was so important for me to be able to report that news! It’s a sense of accomplishment that is so rewarding, as it is the culmination of much dedication and many late nights of studying.

I left college for that new job that a fellow graduate referred me to. Again, those feelings of anticipation and of self-doubt were experienced. My girlfriend (a different one, now) was still in school. When I came back to see her a few weeks later, it seemed someone had taken my place, so I was on my own. Looking at the large debt I had incurred, I felt I was not in a position to be married and raising a family, anyway.

Now I had to get settled in and concentrate on carrying out my life’s dream in my new position as a Certified Flight Instructor. Maybe I could get my 1970 Chevelle to last a few more years, although it already had a bit over 100,000 miles on it. Frugality was something I had learned to be good at, by this time.

So, sharing an apartment with a fellow pilot, I embarked on this new career, driving my worn-out Chevy and praying regularly for The Lord to bring me back from each lesson conducted with pilots of various skill levels. My level of faith was quite high at this time, believing the philosophy that so many pilot’s hold. It is best expressed by that sign I remember next to the road as you exit the Bartlesville, Oklahoma Airport. It states, “you are about to embark upon the most dangerous part of your journey – the ride into town.”

There is material for a whole book, just on the experiences of being a Flight Instructor, especially after enduring through 35+ years in that position. I just want to share my personal opinion in that flight instructors are perhaps the most under-appreciated and underpaid professionals. Matter of fact, teachers in general need to be revered and shown appreciation for their dedication to the cause.

Back to the subject of faith. I want to share with my readers just one occurrence that really tested my level of faith. During a frustrating time of struggle where I had to accept a job as a warehouse worker so I could pay my bills, I was presented with an opportunity to fly on the weekends to make a few extra bucks. The job entailed flying skydivers in a very old twin-engine airplane. It was a great chance to keep up my proficiency as I continued to look for a more professional job.

My friend, Mark, who I consider to be very intelligent, was considering doing the same …until he looked in the aircraft. This 1950 some model aircraft looked like it had been pulled out of a scrapyard, stripped of all seats except the pilot’s seat, and the door, no longer there, was now a doorway, just behind the right wing. The airplane was typically referred to as the “T-Bone”, which I will have to do some research into before I can tell you the reason why. Officially, it was a Beechcraft Twin Bonanza. Looking at this one, it was easy to understand why they wanted to jump out, I thought. “This one is used exclusively for skydiving, but the magnetic compass and the fuel gages work”, they told me.

Also, the pilot must wear a parachute. That’s like telling me it’s equipped with a panic button. Only in a complete and utter panic would I ever exit an airplane that was not on the ground. Mark had made up his mind, but I was desperate enough to build flight time in my logbook that I agreed to be their weekend pilot.

The Jumpmaster, a Viet Nam vet, had made thousands of successful jumps. Therefore, I was open-minded, considering what they suggested in at least making one jump. I went up in the single-engine Cessna to observe a skydiver go out the specially-built door into the vast space below. As he quickly disappeared, I noticed my grip tightening on whatever I was holding onto, and my heart rate increased. “You know, the wings on this airplane are still attached – I have no motivation to go out that door. If the airplane catches on fire, I...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Dedication
• Occupational Hazards
• Developing The Concept
• Adventure Awaits
• Seeking New Direction
• Opportunity Of A Lifetime
• Life Continues…
• A Priceless Gift
• Trust
• The Conflict
• Your Journey
• You Cannot Overcome It Alone
• About The Author