As
a child, I remember being in Sunday School at age six in the Bible Baptist
Church that met in the old Auburn downtown theater. It fascinated me how the
sanctuary sloped down to a large stage dressed in heavy, red velvet curtains.
Around the large room, various decorations of molded plaster harkened to its
earlier days of glory.
I have happy memories of that church;
rousing songs, exciting missionaries, calls to commitment and purpose that
spoke to my young heart and life. One Sunday, dressed in my Sunday best, our
young Sunday school class presented special music to the congregation; young
voices piping a familiar hymn in the large, echoing space. I remember
distinctly grabbing the microphone and singing into it with all I was worth; I
was the star of my own production.
Throughout my life, this fascination with self has beckoned me
with a ceaseless allure. “I can do this, I can do that”…..has echoed through my
existence. Why, I don’t know. Maybe I’m
a product of the “me generation” where deification of self became the mantra of
the baby boomer generation. We were taught to have self-worth, to value our
voices, to stand up for our rights. The glorification of individualism was
rampant with free expression taking full swing in the late ‘60’s.
Translating this concentration on self and
me into a focus on others has been a life-long journey and struggle. The
persistent patter of “my rights”, “my needs” has died slowly, resistant to the
concept and practice of serving others without recognition or thanks.
Being a Christian, I continually read the
works of others who have gone before me to find wisdom and grounding. What I
have discovered is that this struggle between altruism and selfishness has by no
means been restricted to American baby boomers. It is more a reflection of
man’s struggle to conquer innate selfishness and choose a way that reflects a
consciousness that giving to others is a manifestation of how God wants us to
be different.
Asking
Jesus into my heart as that small child in the old Auburn Baptist church, I
believe that God honored that decision. Through all my years of struggle, and
rebellion, He watched and waited for me to finally cease resisting His loving
guidance, and to allow Him to finish the work He began so many years before.
This morning, I began re-reading the Gospel of Luke. I love the
story of how the old couple, Zachariah and Elizabeth had been childless
throughout their long marriage.
Unlike myself who kicked up my heels and sowed
ill-fated crops of wild oats, these two people were faithful to their God and
their faith. They continued to do the things they needed to do even though the
great sorrow of their life was to be childless.
Then, joy of joy, they had a message of hope. It was such an
astounding message, Zachariah couldn’t even believe it, even though the angel
Gabriel told him. He and Elizabeth would have a baby in their old age! I love
the verse (Luke 1:37) that records what the angel Gabriel told him, “For with
God nothing is impossible!”
The tendency is for myself, and those I come in contact with,
to look at the possible and experience feelings of despair. The question is asked, “How can God bring
good out of all this mess I’ve made?”
or, “I’d like to believe that things will work out as I trust God, but
there are so many things wrong that can’t be fixed.”
Ah, now comes the good part. So often in life, I found a good
book and enjoyed an afternoon curled up transported to an exciting, interesting
world. What was going to happen next? I
could hardly wait to turn the pages. I can remember my mother telling me,
“You’re never going to find a husband. You love your books too much.” But
still, reading was wonderful. There were so many happy endings.
Daring to believe that in spite of what we see as
impossibilities, God can still create happy endings out of broken lives is the
ultimate happy ending, a story of redemption, and restoration that outdoes any
novel or movie.
Right now, my trusting God is a daily walk of faith, sometimes
strong, sometimes feeble, but like a trail winding up through the Columbia
Gorge hills, going higher and higher until suddenly a turn occurs and the
entire vista of the river spreads out before you in an incredible panoramic
view; I know the end of the story of my life can be the best part; the happy
ending I have been waiting for. I just need to never give up. God is faithful
and in His time He will fulfill His promises.
Where I work, I constantly challenge the
men that if going through treatment does nothing else than give them hope that
they can change their lives, then treatment has been successful. Loss of hope
brings despair, and with despair beginning again feels impossible.
If in your own life, you’ve lost hope,
you’ve lost purpose, why not try God? He is the restorer of broken lives. He promises to give, “Beauty for ashes, the
oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.” (Isaiah
61: 1 – 3)
I cannot know when, I cannot know how, but this I know, My
redeemer lives! I will yet praise Him for the help of my countenance, (face) I
will yet find, joy in the morning! Be happy, be blessed and dare to find your
own happy ending, try God!
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