My earliest memory was when I was 3 years old. I don't remember most of the events. I don't remember my mother putting me to bed that night with what she thought was a case of the flu. She discovered the next morning that her diagnosis was incorrect when she couldn't wake me. I don't remember the next 24 hours at all ... because I was in a coma. She took me to the doctor who diagnosed me with meningitis H-Flu. The doctor told her that it typically kills in 24 hours. And the doctor told her they had no treatment. I don't remember the trip to the hospital, never heard the discussions between my parents and the doctors regarding prognosis and options. I wasn't aware of the experimental drug they gave me and only found out later that others had died from it. No one told me that all my family's friends and congregation and family were praying for me.
My first memory, then, was waking up in a crib. I know ... that sounds mundane, but I was 3, for Pete's sake, and I wasn't in a crib anymore. Worse, the first thing I saw was that my wrists were strapped to the sides of the crib. Now that wasn't normal. I looked down toward the end of the crib and saw my right leg suspended in a sling of some sort. There was a huge glass bottle of fluid (everything is huge to a 3-year-old) hanging there with a tube that came out and ran through a needle into my ankle. A nurse looked up from my ankle and said, "Oh, you're awake. You're okay. You just let me know when this bottle is empty, okay?" And she walked out. Eager to do my job (truth be told, eager to get that needle out of my ankle), I called, "It's empty!!!" She came back, smiled warmly, and said, "No, it's not. Don't worry; you'll be okay." She was right.
Later, that ankle got infected, and to this day I have a scar there. I see it every time I put my shoes on. It's not a bad thing. I wouldn't lose that scar for anything. It's a reminder, every day, that doctors and medicine and skilled workers -- and there was no shortage of any of those -- didn't save me at the age of 3. God did. It's a reminder, when I'm questioning my life, that God saved me for a purpose -- for His purpose. It's a reminder that, no matter what my opinion of me is, God has a use for me. Why? Because I've seen it. Because I'm a witness to God's grace and mercy in practical, 3-year-old terms and in broad, spiritual, unfathomable terms.
Showing posts with label Testimony. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Testimony. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 20, 2024
Tuesday, August 13, 2024
Can I Get a Witness? (1992)
I married the mother of my two boys in 1980. Twelve years later, she was filing for divorce. I was "too boring" and another man beckoned to her. In preparation for her departure, we were moving from the house we were renting to a smaller (and more affordable) apartment. So there I was, out in the garage, sorting stuff to keep or toss in the move. Digging through boxes, I came across one of those yellow, lined sheets of paper with my handwriting on it. What was this? I had written it some 12 years prior. In the early months of our marriage my wife had told me, "I hate you!" Now, you already know that I had lost my good job, so there I was, doing a low-paying night watchman job, and calling out to God. "Lord, what happened?" So I grabbed a piece of yellow, lined paper and started writing out the sequence that brought me to marry my wife.
When I considered marrying my bride, I was keenly concerned about God's will. Someone from the outside would have told me I was taking a negative approach. I kept throwing "roadblocks" in the way and telling God, "If you don't want me to marry her, stop me here." They weren't actually roadblocks. More like fleeces. And as I sat in that guard shack on that April evening, I listed the fleeces. I had some 28 times that I told God, "Stop me here. I don't want to pursue this if you don't want me to pursue this." And 28 times ... He opened the door. I concluded, that April, 1980 night, that I had certainly married this woman because it was God's will and not merely my youthful desires, so I would trust Him.
And now here I was, 12 years later, facing the end of the marriage. And, sifting through the flotsam and jetsam of 12 years of marriage, God saw fit to hand me this sheet of paper ... again. Why I kept it I can't tell you, but there it was, staring me in the face. Twenty-eight times that God had said, "Yes, this is My will." Too many to be coincidence. It dawned on me that, if the marriage had been God's will, then He also knew about this outcome all these years later ... and planned for it. That is, while the divorce was not God's "perfect will," it was certainly His permissive will, His plan, His direction for my life. Like Joseph, I could say, "You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good" (Gen 50:20). This was part of His "plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope" (Jer 29:11). God spoke to me that evening. "It's okay. I knew this was coming. It is in your best interest and part of My plan. I will never leave you nor forsake you." And I could say, "It is well with my soul." Is God real? I say so. Can He be trusted? I would declare it so. Does He cause well-being and create calamity (Isa 45:7)? Yes, He does. But He always does what's good and what's right. I can say so because I've seen Him in action for the past 30+ years after that, and He has done what was best. I'm an eyewitness.
When I considered marrying my bride, I was keenly concerned about God's will. Someone from the outside would have told me I was taking a negative approach. I kept throwing "roadblocks" in the way and telling God, "If you don't want me to marry her, stop me here." They weren't actually roadblocks. More like fleeces. And as I sat in that guard shack on that April evening, I listed the fleeces. I had some 28 times that I told God, "Stop me here. I don't want to pursue this if you don't want me to pursue this." And 28 times ... He opened the door. I concluded, that April, 1980 night, that I had certainly married this woman because it was God's will and not merely my youthful desires, so I would trust Him.
And now here I was, 12 years later, facing the end of the marriage. And, sifting through the flotsam and jetsam of 12 years of marriage, God saw fit to hand me this sheet of paper ... again. Why I kept it I can't tell you, but there it was, staring me in the face. Twenty-eight times that God had said, "Yes, this is My will." Too many to be coincidence. It dawned on me that, if the marriage had been God's will, then He also knew about this outcome all these years later ... and planned for it. That is, while the divorce was not God's "perfect will," it was certainly His permissive will, His plan, His direction for my life. Like Joseph, I could say, "You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good" (Gen 50:20). This was part of His "plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope" (Jer 29:11). God spoke to me that evening. "It's okay. I knew this was coming. It is in your best interest and part of My plan. I will never leave you nor forsake you." And I could say, "It is well with my soul." Is God real? I say so. Can He be trusted? I would declare it so. Does He cause well-being and create calamity (Isa 45:7)? Yes, He does. But He always does what's good and what's right. I can say so because I've seen Him in action for the past 30+ years after that, and He has done what was best. I'm an eyewitness.
Tuesday, August 06, 2024
Can I Get a Witness? (1990)
I love this story because it's true, because it happened to me, and, ultimately, because it so clearly displays God's hand. During the decade of the '80s, I spent my time in the Air Force. In late 1989, two years into my 3rd 4-year reenlistment, I got a call from a friend I had worked with in the first enlistment. He offered me a job with a company in California. "Well," I told him, "I have 2 more years before I can even entertain it." "My vice-president is coming to Syracuse" (where I was), he told me, "and if you'll meet with him, he can interview you and make an offer." So, knowing it couldn't happen, I met with him. And he made me an offer -- more than $10,000 over the minimum I thought I'd need to live in California. Still ... two years. But God ...
It was soon after that we were notified that the government wanted to decrease the size of the military. They said that anyone that wanted out, from new enlistees on up, could get out. I was an instructor at the time and I went to my superiors and said I'd like to do it. "Oh, no," they told me, "the plan is to make this base the advanced training base for the entire northeast quadrant of the U.S. We can't let you go. In fact, we need 4 more like you just in your career field." So, I filed the request, expecting a "no." To my surprise and the surprise of my superiors, it came back approved. So, after 10 years in the Air Force, I was being let go with an honorable discharge (and 3 months of leave to finish out before I was discharged). I said goodbye to my group, packed up the family, and drove from central New York to southern California. We moved temporarily in with my parents while I secured the job I was offered and ... I was told there was no job. The company that made the offer was not only not hiring; they were going out of business. And I thought, "God???"
Well, I started searching in earnest for a job. I had experience in electronics up to and including teaching it. Should be lots of opportunities. I had lots of interviews, but no bites. My father visited Orange County and came back with a newspaper, so I looked in there, too. And I called one of the ads to see about an interview. They invited me up and I went and spent the day being interviewed by 6 or 8 different people. At one point, the VP of Electronics asked me, "Where did you hear about the job?" I said, "In the ad in the newspaper." He looked at the others and said, "Did we put an ad in the newspaper?" They all shook their heads. They hired me soon thereafter, waived my 90-day probation, and applied my benefits (including medical) immediately ... the day before my military leave and benefits ran out.
"Coincidence," some might argue. Perhaps. But when you pile "coincidence" after "coincidence" on top of each other until you have a whole column of them, "coincidence" doesn't seem to cut it. "Design" is a better word. "The hand of God" is more reasonable. Fortunately, all of it was out of my hands, so I take no mistaken credit for a great job that lasted the next decade until my wife and I left the state for "greener pastures" ... in Arizona ... so maybe not "greener," but you get the idea. You may wonder if there is a God or, maybe, just if He's personal or not, but I know it. I am an eyewitness.
It was soon after that we were notified that the government wanted to decrease the size of the military. They said that anyone that wanted out, from new enlistees on up, could get out. I was an instructor at the time and I went to my superiors and said I'd like to do it. "Oh, no," they told me, "the plan is to make this base the advanced training base for the entire northeast quadrant of the U.S. We can't let you go. In fact, we need 4 more like you just in your career field." So, I filed the request, expecting a "no." To my surprise and the surprise of my superiors, it came back approved. So, after 10 years in the Air Force, I was being let go with an honorable discharge (and 3 months of leave to finish out before I was discharged). I said goodbye to my group, packed up the family, and drove from central New York to southern California. We moved temporarily in with my parents while I secured the job I was offered and ... I was told there was no job. The company that made the offer was not only not hiring; they were going out of business. And I thought, "God???"
Well, I started searching in earnest for a job. I had experience in electronics up to and including teaching it. Should be lots of opportunities. I had lots of interviews, but no bites. My father visited Orange County and came back with a newspaper, so I looked in there, too. And I called one of the ads to see about an interview. They invited me up and I went and spent the day being interviewed by 6 or 8 different people. At one point, the VP of Electronics asked me, "Where did you hear about the job?" I said, "In the ad in the newspaper." He looked at the others and said, "Did we put an ad in the newspaper?" They all shook their heads. They hired me soon thereafter, waived my 90-day probation, and applied my benefits (including medical) immediately ... the day before my military leave and benefits ran out.
"Coincidence," some might argue. Perhaps. But when you pile "coincidence" after "coincidence" on top of each other until you have a whole column of them, "coincidence" doesn't seem to cut it. "Design" is a better word. "The hand of God" is more reasonable. Fortunately, all of it was out of my hands, so I take no mistaken credit for a great job that lasted the next decade until my wife and I left the state for "greener pastures" ... in Arizona ... so maybe not "greener," but you get the idea. You may wonder if there is a God or, maybe, just if He's personal or not, but I know it. I am an eyewitness.
Thursday, August 01, 2024
Can I Get a Witness? (1980)
It was early 1980. I was a newlywed ... and had just lost my job. Mind you, it was a job as a Security Supervisor -- good enough, but not great -- so I wasn't greatly qualified for a job to take care of my wife and kids. Oh, did I forget to mention? Just before they let me go, she told me she was pregnant. So, I thought and prayed and decided that maybe the military would take me and pay me while they taught me a career-type job.
I took the ASVAB aiming to join the Air Force. As part of the ASVAB, there was a section of just preferences. "Do you like this kind of thing?" You understand. Every time a question like, "Do you like to fix radios?" or "Do you like to tinker with electronics?" came up, I gave a vehement "No!" because I'd never done it and had no interest. The Air Force offered me a job in accounting, which, I thought, would be a fine career, so I accepted and they told me they could get me in by ... October. Oh, hang on! That was 5 months away. My wife was pregnant now. "What can I take to get in sooner?" I asked. "Well," they said, "you can show up packed and ready to go and wait to see if someone who is scheduled to leave that day and in a job you are qualified to take can't make it." So I did just that. The next day I waited with a couple of changes of clothes and a few toiletries at the main station. A guy who was scheduled to leave that day broke his leg and wouldn't make it. He had signed up for ... did you guess it? ... electronics. Open Electronics, meaning any electronics the Air Force did. Well, I wanted a career and electronics seemed to be a good career, so I shipped off to Basic Training that day, complete with medical benefits for my wife (and baby-to-come) and the start of a new career.
Funny thing. I discovered not only that I could do electronics, but that I was good at it. It made sense to me. Funny thing. I went in Open Electronics, but they assigned me to one of the very few career fields still available that was entirely "hands-on." I learned to work on everything from vacuum tubes to solid state. I learned to take the equipment off aircraft, take it to the shop, fix it down to the component level, and put it back on the aircraft. In short, I got a job that I really enjoyed and that taught me all facets of electronics work from black box to inner workings. The military was not my first choice. (I was, in fact, one of the oldest guys there in Basic Training.) I didn't get this with my careful planning. My career from which I eventually retired came from this "surprise" that I didn't want and wouldn't have chosen ... because my God is much, much smarter and more capable than I am. I know; I'm an eyewitness.
I took the ASVAB aiming to join the Air Force. As part of the ASVAB, there was a section of just preferences. "Do you like this kind of thing?" You understand. Every time a question like, "Do you like to fix radios?" or "Do you like to tinker with electronics?" came up, I gave a vehement "No!" because I'd never done it and had no interest. The Air Force offered me a job in accounting, which, I thought, would be a fine career, so I accepted and they told me they could get me in by ... October. Oh, hang on! That was 5 months away. My wife was pregnant now. "What can I take to get in sooner?" I asked. "Well," they said, "you can show up packed and ready to go and wait to see if someone who is scheduled to leave that day and in a job you are qualified to take can't make it." So I did just that. The next day I waited with a couple of changes of clothes and a few toiletries at the main station. A guy who was scheduled to leave that day broke his leg and wouldn't make it. He had signed up for ... did you guess it? ... electronics. Open Electronics, meaning any electronics the Air Force did. Well, I wanted a career and electronics seemed to be a good career, so I shipped off to Basic Training that day, complete with medical benefits for my wife (and baby-to-come) and the start of a new career.
Funny thing. I discovered not only that I could do electronics, but that I was good at it. It made sense to me. Funny thing. I went in Open Electronics, but they assigned me to one of the very few career fields still available that was entirely "hands-on." I learned to work on everything from vacuum tubes to solid state. I learned to take the equipment off aircraft, take it to the shop, fix it down to the component level, and put it back on the aircraft. In short, I got a job that I really enjoyed and that taught me all facets of electronics work from black box to inner workings. The military was not my first choice. (I was, in fact, one of the oldest guys there in Basic Training.) I didn't get this with my careful planning. My career from which I eventually retired came from this "surprise" that I didn't want and wouldn't have chosen ... because my God is much, much smarter and more capable than I am. I know; I'm an eyewitness.
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