Charles Dickens’ enduring line, “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times,” perfectly describes my life in 1976. Parties were plentiful, responsibilities were shallow, and worries felt far away.
Yet, this way that seemed “right” left me with a deep sense of longing. The faith I had inherited from my parents, once a steady anchor, now felt irrelevant. Looking back, I was like a punctured balloon, drifting erratically and aimlessly until all the air spilled out.
Christmas Eve 1976 was just another day of party hopping. In fact, I didn’t even realize it was Christmas Eve.
As I made my way to the next stop, I suddenly felt the pressure of a sturdy hand on my shoulder — a bit unsettling, since I was all alone. Yet, I allowed it to guide me through the countryside and into the parking lot of a church preparing for a Christmas Eve service. I joined the flow of congregants entering the sanctuary.
As I worshipped, I told myself, “I am supposed to be here.” From that night forward, I began attending worship regularly, and 50 years later, I hardly ever miss (my pastor can vouch for that!).
My life today is still the best of times and the worst of times. It is the best of times because I have found the way that leads to new life, hope, and purpose. I have found where God wants us to be.
Yet, it is the worst of times because I lament for those who are still lost, traveling down the road that seems right to them. All I can do is pray that the Holy Spirit will enable me to place my hand on the shoulder of another and nudge them, just as I was nudged.
For even in “the worst of times,” the best of times begins when Christ takes the lead.
“There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.” Proverbs 14:12
No Comments