John Hargrove Seeking Truth and Reality

The Hound of Heaven (Retold: John’s Story)
inspired by Francis Thompson

I fled Him—
Not with wild rebellion,
but with a mask, a schedule,
a smile I wore to church.
I buried myself in roles,
in performance,
in the lie:
I am not enough.

He followed.

Through my wife’s quiet loyalty,
through the voice that said,
“This is not who you are.”
Through Leisa’s love—stubborn, undeserved—
He kept whispering,
even when I had stopped listening.

I fled Him—
into ambition, distraction,
self-justification.
Into the ache of not being seen,
not even by myself.
I believed the lie was my truth.
That unworthiness was my name.

But still—
He followed.

With unhurried pace,
with measured mercy,
with deliberate grace.

He did not break the door.
He knocked.

And when I lost my way,
He left signs:
A friend’s invitation.
A weekend I didn’t want.
A table with a name—
The Living Word.
He was already speaking
before I could understand the words.

I fled Him—
into rage and grief,
into the night my son died.
Into the scream that emptied my soul
in the dark of our driveway.

And still—
He was there.

I didn’t feel Him.
Didn’t want Him.
But He was already holding me
when I had nothing left to hold.

Twelve fifty AM.
A detail on a death certificate.
The same moment I looked at my phone.
I thought it was coincidence.
But it was grace—
etched in eternal ink.

I fled Him,
but I never outran Him.
Because prevenient grace does not chase to conquer—
it chases to claim.

And even as I sat in silence,
too wounded to respond,
He stayed.

Even as I forgot His face,
He remembered mine.

Even as I questioned His love,
He was writing my calling.

Even as I buried my son,
He was planting seeds of purpose.

And now—
I do not run.

Now I walk.
Sometimes I limp.
But I walk with the One
who never stopped walking with me.

Liminal Scripture and the Story I’m Living

Genesis 32 – Wrestling at the River

“Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day.”

I know this place—

the night where there are no more distractions,

where the only way forward is through

the pain I’ve been carrying.

Like Jacob, I have wrestled with God—not to win,

but to be changed.

To know that this wound I walk with

is also a blessing I carry.

I am not who I was.

And I do not walk alone.

I’ve been sitting with the reality of what it means to live in the in-between.

There’s a word for that space: liminal. It means the threshold, the crossing place. Not where you started, not yet where you’re going. Just… between.

That’s where I’ve lived for a long time—between grief and hope, memory and mission. And it’s exactly where grace keeps showing up. Not in the clarity, but in the ache. Not in the certainty, but in the stillness.

I wrote this poem as a way to name that place. It’s where I still meet God. It’s where Joshua’s memory lives. And it’s where the call to serve others continues to grow.

The Space Between

for Joshua, for the walk, for the waiting

I walk between the then and now,

Where silence speaks, and I still bow.

The doors behind are closed and gone,

Yet something keeps me holding on.

Not past, not future—this is air

Too thick with love to not be prayer.

A voice I knew, a name I miss—

Still echoes softly in the midst.

I live where longing finds its place,

Where grief and grace still share a face.

This weight I bear, I will not trade—

It shaped the man that love has made.

Don’t ask me why I can’t let go—

Some things we’re not meant not to know.

For what I hold, still holds me too,

And pulls me toward what’s strong and true.

And when I speak of grace that finds,

Of roads that wind, of sacred signs—

I do so not from knowing much,

But from the places God still touched.

So if I pause here, in-between,

It’s not because I’m lost or mean.

It’s that the cross was planted there—

And resurrection meets me where

The past and future seem to strain—

And Jesus weeps and walks again.

He calls me not to let it go—

But let it grow. And let it flow.

Maybe you’re in a liminal place, too.

Not sure what’s next. Not able to forget what came before.

If so, you’re not alone.

That space between? It’s holy ground.

God still moves there. Grace still flows there.

Noah’s Obedience When It Defied Logic and Social Norms

Biblical Context:

Genesis 6:9–22 describes Noah as a “righteous man, blameless in his generation,” who “walked with God.” This stands in direct contrast to the rest of society, which had become “corrupt” and “filled with violence” (Genesis 6:11). Into this setting, God gives Noah a radically countercultural command: to build a massive ark in anticipation of a flood—despite no evidence of rain, and with no visible crisis.

“Noah did all that God commanded him.” (Genesis 6:22)

Why It Defied Logic:

• There was no precedent for a global flood. The concept itself would have seemed irrational.
  
• The ark’s size, construction, and timeframe made the project look absurd.
  
• No one else was warned or preparing. Noah acted alone on God’s word.
  
• He devoted decades to building something with no immediate payoff and no social reinforcement.
  

In terms of pure reason or natural observation, Noah’s obedience made no sense. But Hebrews 11:7 says:

“By faith Noah, being warned by God concerning events as yet unseen, in reverent fear constructed an ark…”

This is what Wesleyan theology calls faith working by love—not obedience born of fear, but trust rooted in relationship.

Why It Defied Social Norms:

• Noah’s culture had normalized violence, corruption, and irreverence.
  
• He likely faced ridicule, alienation, and misunderstanding.
  
• There was no moral majority to support him—he walked faithfully in isolation.
  
• In contrast to the cultural rejection of divine authority, Noah submitted completely to God’s word.
  

In Wesleyan terms, this is an example of entire sanctification—not sinless perfection, but full consecration to God, even when the world says otherwise.

Why It Matters Today:

• Noah’s story challenges believers to follow God’s voice over public opinion or popular logic.
  
• In a culture that prizes instant results and visible proof, Noah teaches long obedience in the same direction.
  
• For the church, especially at FMC Buna, Noah is a model for spiritual leadership: building ministries, relationships, and witness—not because they’re culturally endorsed, but because they’re biblically commanded.
  

Reflection Questions:

• What “ark” might God be asking me to build that doesn’t make sense to others?
  
• Where have I hesitated to obey because it might seem foolish, unpopular, or lonely?
  
• What does it look like to walk with God in my generation, as Noah did in his?

Introduction

The immigration debate in the United States remains one of the most complex moral and policy challenges of our time. It touches on national security, economic stability, human dignity, and the very identity of our nation. This paper seeks to integrate several vital frameworks—rule of law, compassion, fairness, and Christian moral teachings—into a coherent position on illegal immigration. It draws upon recent commentary by Eli (June 2025), policy critiques from across the spectrum, and the biblical values shared by many American citizens.

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I. Rule of Law Is Non-Negotiable

The foundation of any functional society is the rule of law. U.S. immigration law is clear in its categories of legal entry, enforcement priorities, and consequences for unlawful presence. To disregard these laws—either through selective enforcement or policy loopholes—is to undermine the very principle of fairness that legal immigrants rely on. As former Senator Barack Obama said in 2005, “Those who enter the country illegally and those who employ them disrespect the rule of law and show disregard for those who are following the law.” Flashback 2005_ Sen.

Policy Alignment:

• Immigration enforcement must continue to prioritize border integrity and penalize employers who exploit undocumented labor.
  
• Clear distinctions must be made between economic migrants, asylum seekers, and criminal actors.
  
• Reform must include modernizing immigration court backlogs to uphold legal timeliness and due process. Illegal Immigration_ En….
  

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II. Compassion Must Be Real, Not Reckless

Christian teachings call for the protection of the vulnerable—including immigrants (Leviticus 19:33–34, Matthew 25:35). However, compassion does not require the erasure of law; it requires discernment. A blanket leniency undermines justice, just as blind enforcement ignores human dignity. Compassion must be applied case by case, particularly to children, asylum seekers, and those who have established peaceful, productive lives in our communities.

Balanced Policy Suggestion:

• Create earned legalization pathways for long-term, law-abiding undocumented residents.
  
• Expand humanitarian parole and asylum processing centers outside U.S. borders to reduce unauthorized entry and unnecessary trauma. Post on immigration by ….
  
• Prioritize legal representation for minors and vulnerable individuals to ensure just outcomes.
  

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III. Fairness in Process and Policy

Our legal immigration system is fundamentally unfair to many who seek to follow the rules. Wait times can exceed 20 years for applicants from high-demand nations. At the same time, undocumented individuals who crossed the border outside the legal process may remain in limbo for decades with no pathway to legal status.

Reform Recommendations:

• Update legal immigration caps to reflect modern labor needs and demographic trends.
  
• Create a new visa category for essential laborers with no legal pathway.
  
• Enforce employer accountability to prevent job-market exploitation of undocumented workers. PESTLE Analysis of Ille….
  

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IV. Taxpayer Fairness and Economic Sustainability

With over $34 trillion in national debt, the U.S. cannot afford policies that ignore long-term fiscal impact. Undocumented immigrants contribute significantly through ITIN-based tax payments—over $90 billion in 2023 alone—but also strain local education, healthcare, and legal systems. Any policy must reconcile these contributions with costs and protect programs like Social Security that depend on a growing legal workforce.

Fiscal Integrity Requires:

• Legal status pathways that include tax compliance, not amnesty.
  
• Reduced spending on ineffective border tactics like walls in favor of smart surveillance and interdiction tools.
  
• Penalties for employers who offload their tax burdens by exploiting undocumented labor markets. Post on immigration by ….
  

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V. Christian Moral Teaching: Justice and Mercy Together

A Christian approach to immigration combines the call to love the stranger (Deut. 10:19) with the call to obey the law (Romans 13:1). It does not justify open borders or sanctify cruelty. It acknowledges the sanctity of each life while affirming national responsibility to protect and regulate entry. Christians are called to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly (Micah 6:8), which includes advocating for immigration laws that are both fair and compassionate.

Christian Application Includes:

• Standing against racial prejudice and fear-based policies.
  
• Supporting reform that offers dignity to the undocumented without rewarding lawlessness.
  
• Offering sanctuary in a spiritual and humanitarian sense, without undermining public orderChristian views on immi….
  

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Conclusion: A Path Forward

America must not choose between law and love. It must pursue both. That means building a system where:

• Laws are clear, enforceable, and respected.
  
• Immigrants are treated with dignity, not suspicion.
  
• Citizens and legal immigrants are not punished for following the rules.
  
• Taxpayers are protected through smart, sustainable policy.
  

We need not accept the false choice between border anarchy and brutal enforcement. A faithful, fair, and lawful approach is possible—and it is the one America, and its Christian conscience, must pursue.

There was a time I didn’t know how far I had wandered.

At first, it was just a few small steps—away from peace, away from purpose, away from the heart of the Shepherd. I didn’t call it rebellion. I called it survival. The terrain of life had grown rough, filled with disappointments and losses too sharp for easy answers. One day blurred into the next, and slowly, I drifted—quietly, steadily—until I couldn’t see home anymore. I couldn’t even hear the others calling.

I didn’t know I was the lost lamb.

But He did.

Through the darkest places, the Shepherd came for me. Not with a shout, not with punishment, not even with demands—but with mercy. With memory. With the sound of grace carried on the wind. I remember moments when I felt something stir in my chest at the sight of a sunrise, or in the sound of an old hymn, or in a kind word that cut through the numbness. That was Him. I see it now.

He never stopped pursuing me.

When I lost my son, I thought the pain would silence everything. A part of me died that day. The shepherd’s voice grew faint under the weight of grief. I wore anger like armor. For years, I wandered further still, all the while convincing myself I was fine. Capable. Standing. But inside, I was lost—aching and unfinished.

And still, He pursued.

He found me in places I never thought He’d go—on the Emmaus road of sorrow, in the Chrysalis of rebirth. Through the testimonies of others, through gentle hands that offered grace, through a thousand ordinary moments that added up to one extraordinary truth: I wasn’t alone.

He carried me back.

Not with force, but with love so persistent it broke through my shame. He carried me not because I had earned it, but because He chose me—always had. Like the parable told long ago, He left the ninety-nine to find the one. Me.

And even now, when I stray in mind or spirit, when the ache resurfaces or the weight returns, I remember: I am still the one He came for. Not just once, but every time I begin to drift.

I once was the lamb who wandered.

Now I am the one who was found. And still, He walks with me.

This is the story of Chrysalis. The story of Emmaus. The story of redemption told not just in words, but in the footsteps of a Savior who never stops walking toward the lost.

It is my story

Personal Prayer: The Day I Returned Again

June 7, 2025

God,

I come to You today not as the man who got it all right—

but as the man who didn’t walk away.

I come not with clean hands,

but with open ones.

You know where I’ve failed.

You’ve seen the moments I stayed silent when I should have spoken,

pushed forward when I should have been still,

held on too tightly when You were asking me to release.

I confess it.

I carry it.

But I do not hide it.

Because I believe You are not asking for perfection—

You are asking for presence.

And so today, I show up.

Not with all the answers,

but with all the willingness I have left.

Take my uneven steps,

my tender longing,

my fractured love—

and make it something holy again.

Thank You for never turning away.

Thank You for waiting through the silence.

Thank You for writing a story in me, even when I lost the page.

Let me serve with humility.

Let me love without demand.

Let me carry what I carry with grace.

And if there is still more for me to do,

then let me do it with a clearer heart,

a gentler presence,

and a deeper trust in You.

In Jesus name – Amen.

A Life of Purpose: Faith, Engineering, and the Quiet Work That Lasts

I was born in Kirbyville, Texas, in 1958, and raised in the small town of Buna—a place that grounded me in the values of family, faith, and responsibility. My father, Robert Hargrove, was a Korean War veteran and a man of quiet integrity. He spent 35 years at Dupont and taught me what it means to work hard and keep your word. My mother, Lavee Richbourg Hargrove, gave me a sense of belonging to something larger—both in faith and in heritage. Her family line traces back to early Texas settlers and the French Huguenots of the South.

I met Leisa, the love of my life, in high school. She was graceful, kind, and full of life. I was the quiet boy from a working-class family. But something clicked, and we started dating just before graduation in 1975. We married in 1980 during college, and that was the beginning of a lifelong partnership built on love, faith, and perseverance. Our son, Joshua Blake Hargrove, was born in 1984—a bright, compassionate young man whose life, though short, touched many. Losing him in 2002 changed everything. Grief rearranged my soul, but it also deepened my sense of calling.

My professional life began in earnest in 1978, when I took a student engineering position at Gulf States Utilities (GSU) while finishing my degree in electrical engineering at Lamar University. I earned my BSEE in 1981 and went on to spend 15 years with GSU, eventually leading telecommunications engineering for a multi-state electric utility network. My work supported SCADA, microwave, PBX, and protective relaying systems across more than 30 locations. It was formative, high-pressure, and rewarding—an environment that shaped how I see systems, risk, and people.

In 1993, I left GSU as the utility prepared for the Entergy merger. I joined Lockard & White in Houston for two years, managing major infrastructure projects. One of the most memorable was a 100-hop analog-to-digital microwave upgrade for Transcontinental Gas Pipeline. That experience reignited my entrepreneurial spirit. I wanted to serve clients directly and build something of my own.

In 1995, I founded New Signals Engineering Corporation. The early days were lean and intense—every project mattered, and I wore every hat. But the work was good, and God opened doors. In 1996, my former boss at GSU, Bob Pohl, hired my firm to design and implement a 100 Mbps fiber ring for the City of College Station. That project not only cemented my credibility—it changed the trajectory of my life. Bob introduced me to Sam Houston Electric Cooperative, and that single referral began a 25-year journey of trust, engineering, and service.

At Sam Houston EC and other East Texas co-ops, I designed SCADA communications, built microwave paths, engineered dispatch and tone relaying systems, and integrated critical infrastructure. I helped these utilities bridge from legacy systems into modern IP networks. Much of it was quiet work—done in rural counties, far from headlines—but it mattered. People depended on it.

From 1997 through 2014, I ran New Signals full time, serving electric cooperatives, municipalities, pipeline operators, and Fortune 500 clients. My work extended to public safety radio systems, oil and gas SCADA, offshore communications in Africa, and early cybersecurity practices. Whether it was a remote fire tower in the Big Thicket or an urban fiber buildout, I showed up with one aim: to serve well and solve the right problem.

In 2015, I joined Sam Houston Electric Cooperative as Engineer II. My largest project there was leading the design and deployment of a 72,000-meter Advanced Metering Infrastructure (AMI) system. The system required RF planning, cyber segmentation, and deep coordination across IT, SCADA, and operational leadership. I also re-architected the cooperative’s WAN into a Layer 3 structure, introducing OSPF and BGP protocols to support network resilience. I helped establish NERC CIP cyber compliance zones and built trusted systems for the grid of the future.

In 2019, I stepped into the role of Chief Technology Officer at East Texas Electric Cooperative. I provided strategic guidance for ten member co-ops and their G&T provider, leading projects that integrated 24/7 network monitoring, cybersecurity analytics, and OT/IT convergence. We addressed real-time threat detection, failover redundancy, and data visibility—modernizing how co-ops protect and manage grid operations in an increasingly complex world.

In 2020, during the COVID-19 pandemic, I was approached by a group of former clients who needed help. With schools closed and remote work rising, rural families in Buna had no access to reliable broadband. They asked me to build a wireless internet service provider (WISP) from scratch. I accepted.

For the next two years, I worked over 3,900 hours of overtime—designing backhaul, erecting towers, integrating routers, and building a support and billing system from the ground up. By 2022, we had 725 customers and were generating $55,000 a month in revenue. But more than that, we were changing lives. Kids could attend school online. Families could work from home. Businesses could stay open. We turned crisis into connectivity, and it remains one of the projects I’m proudest of.

In 2023, I returned to Lockard & White as a Senior Telecommunications Engineer and took on the role of Chief Operating Officer at Evergreen Technology Solutions. At Evergreen, I lead our broadband buildout across Jasper and Newton counties. Our work includes VOIP integration, public safety radio, library infrastructure, and digital equity partnerships. We’re building not just networks—but bridges for rural communities to access opportunity.

Alongside all this, I’ve never stopped serving locally. I was President of the Buna Chamber of Commerce and co-founded Buna Regional Economic Development LLC. I serve on the board of the Buna Public Library and help guide it toward becoming a digital and cultural hub. I lead Bible studies, support Chrysalis and Emmaus ministries, and do what I can to serve the people and places God put in my path.

When I look back, what I see is not a career, but a calling. A life built on systems, yes—but more than that, a life built on faith, integrity, and quiet service. I’m still learning. Still building. Still showing up.

And that, for me, is enough.

Devotional Essay: “To Love Without Holding On” – A Reflection on Agape

Agape is not the kind of love we see most often in the world. It is not transactional. It does not demand to be noticed, rewarded, or returned. It is the kind of love that gives, and keeps giving—not because it gets something back, but because it is rooted in the very character of God.

Agape love says: I care about your well-being more than I care about my comfort.

It says: I will walk beside you, even if you cannot walk with me.

It whispers: You do not have to earn this. You are already worthy of it.

This is the kind of love that Jesus modeled. He loved the broken, the betrayers, the ones who didn’t understand Him, the ones who abandoned Him. And still, He loved. Without bitterness. Without demand.

There may come a time in your life when you love someone who cannot receive it. Someone whose wounds are so deep they mistake love for pressure, or care for control. Someone who pulls away, not because they don’t feel something, but because they feel too much—and it scares them.

In those moments, the temptation will be to retreat, to harden your heart, to convince yourself that the love was wasted. But agape never wastes itself. Love like this leaves something holy behind. It plants seeds that may never bloom in your sight, but God sees.

Agape is not weakness. It is strength held in restraint.

It is choosing someone’s peace over your longing.

It is blessing them from a distance.

It is still hoping the best for them, even when they’ve gone silent.

It is praying not for your reunion, but for their healing.

It is letting them go, and still loving them in Christ.

As Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 13:

“Love is patient, love is kind.

It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.

It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking…

It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.”

That kind of love may break your heart. But it will never break your spirit—if it is grounded in Christ.

So love them. Pray for them. Honor them.

And if they cannot stay—let them go without bitterness.

Not because they weren’t worthy.

But because love like this doesn’t need to possess.

It just needs to be offered—gently, reverently, like a candle on the altar.

Reflection Questions:

Have you ever been called to love someone without expecting anything in return? What does “protecting someone’s peace” look like in your life? How does Jesus’ model of agape challenge your natural responses to rejection or silence? Is there someone you need to quietly bless and release into God’s hands?

Closing Prayer:

God of perfect love,

Teach me how to love without clinging,

To give without demanding,

To bless without controlling.

Let me hold others with reverence,

Even when I must let them go.

Shape my heart with Your kind of love—

The love that heals, the love that honors,

The love that does not fail.

Amen.