“Why not, it’s months since we heard their orchestra
and choir. I’d love that.” Greg is the last one I expect to be spontaneous. I sit up and take notice. I wondered what God might have for us this morning with this unexpected change.
As we sit in the pew, the formality of Longpoint allows
me to prepared my thoughts for this message from a seasoned pastor, a decade my
senior. His sermons are a poetic display
his love of history and God’s Word. I
value that he is well read and sense the Spirit of God in him. This morning, he had us open Ecclesiastes to
hear Solomon’s cry from a mid-life outlook on the vanity of life, the king is
fighting a cynical heart hardened by experiencing all there is and wrestling
with his purpose. Solomon’s
pedigree was royalty with anything at his fingertips, but in all his pursuits
of power, love and wisdom; he fears it will all vanish a few years after his
passing. The sun will rise and set again
and again. There is nothing to be done. All of our striving will soon be forgotten, and what does any of it matter.
This impacts me, and I take note our spontaneous
morning has brought us to intersect with this foreordained moment. None would know my own skepticism, a tide
just below the surface, something I continually keep in check. Perhaps it has to do with the war on my emotional
pain that has waged most of my life, and a hopelessness that it will always be with me. And
in my mid-life years, I opt for a calling to be in the quarry with a slew of others
who are fighting their demons. Perhaps it
is the very reason I chose to be a skilled helper, I understand the struggle. And it is in this work, I see God’s reality in the lives of others. A regular confirmation of His involvement in our lives.
God lifted me from what could have destroyed me in my
teens, and I cannot help but believe He will continue to do so in the lives of
others. I long to be a part of His
work. But it is my experience of Him is what
drives me onward.
Early in my Christian life, I relied on my academic knowledge
of God, because faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God. But it is not study alone that rescued me, rather
coming face to face with God in my closet when there was nowhere else to turn. And with my outpouring and cries, He comforted me. Once He had touched me in the midst of such pain, I
was changed. These memories of feeling His presence are the foundation I draw from
when my heart is most cynical and confused.
And I know in time the Creator God will show up again at the most
unexpected times. Solomon is right, we
will one day leave this earth. The sun will rise again and again. So, live
in God’s purpose and look for His path that you might pass the hope to experience God to others. It is all
we will leave on this earth once our story is ended and we see Him face to face.
Ecc
9:10, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might, for there is no
work or device or knowledge or wisdom in the grave…”
I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances I have changed the names of individuals and places, I may have changed some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations and places of residence. .
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