Another year has gone by. I had another birthday on August 21st, and I’m feeling my age, as chronic pain has now seriously limited my mobility. I’m seeking medical help, and of course, praying for direction as to how to deal with it. And I recently had a procedure done that I’m hoping will help. But we’ll see. God Himself is the only real healer, and it’s up to Him as to whether or not this “thorn in the flesh” of mine will be removed.
And now, as I’ve turned another year older, I’ve been re-examining my life, looking back at all God has done, and I’ve understood, for a long time, that God chose me for the work He’s called me to. In fact, I believe He chose me before I was born. I understand now how He was speaking to me and guiding my life from the very beginning.
Have you ever felt that way? Like God Himself, knowing you intimately — even as He knit you together in your mother’s womb — created you specifically for a certain type of ministry work? Have you felt in your soul that God chose you — called you and put you to work for Him — whether it was something you wanted to do or not? Can you look back at your life and recall the time you first came to realize that? Can you look back and remember all the times He’s been by your side, or sent His heavenly angels to protect and preserve your life even in times of imminent danger, because your work here, on His behalf, is not yet finished?
I don’t claim to be anything special. But even as a young child, I had a deep interest in the things of God. I came to salvation in Christ as a child. I’ve always felt “different,” often in ways I didn’t understand. And now, the older I get, I look back in awe at the many times God literally saved my life in inexplicable ways.
My earliest childhood memory is of falling down a flight of steps as an infant in my baby walker. It must have been pretty traumatic because I remember it still today, even though I was too young to even walk then. Then, there was the time my family was going to visit my grown-up sister who lived about six hours away from us. My Mom and Dad rode in the front of our pickup truck, and my brother and I had arranged a “camp out” setup in the back of that truck with a pickup topper. As we drove, both my brother and I fell asleep on our sleeping bags in the back. I’ve never been one to “sleep walk,” but on this particular occasion, I did. I must have been about 12 years old at the time. I got up, opened the glass window of the pickup topper, and had one leg over the side of the tailgate as we sped down the freeway, when my brother suddenly woke up and pulled me back in, to safety.
Growing up on a farm, there were plenty of other life-threatening accidents, probably too many to recall here. But I survived them all. I also survived all the stupid mistakes and bad decisions of my somewhat rebellious teenage years. Many of the kids I went to high school with did not.
Then, when I was 16 years old, got my license and had already saved up for my first car, I was able to drive myself to school instead of taking the bus. I remember one day in particular that was extremely foggy. Thick, dense fog was everywhere; so thick that it even deadened all outdoor sounds. We lived down a gravel road, and you had to cross a set of railroad tracks just off the highway to continue down the road to our house.
In those days, there were no railroad crossing gates or flashing lights for safety. Just the highway, the turnoff onto our road, and the tracks you had to cross before continuing. This day was unlike any other, though. Normally, most people would just turn and cross the tracks and continue on. Because if a train was coming, you’d know it. But on this day, I stopped before reaching the tracks. Visibility was literally zero, and there was absolutely no sound at all. I rolled down my window to listen, in case there might have been a train I couldn’t see. No sound. None.
So, I began inching forward to cross the tracks and continue on home. And then, in an instant, a huge freight train roared past in front of me. I missed colliding with that train by less than six inches.
At 18, some friends and I went to a lake for an afternoon. I was the only one who couldn’t swim. We were out in a canoe, paddling around, when the others with me thought it would be fun to “swamp” the boat. So, they did, and when the canoe sank, I began doing my best to swim, hoping to reach the shore, about 100 yards away. I didn’t get very far before I went under. I came up for air a couple of times and tried to swim some more. After the third time I went under, one of my friends had to dive to try to find me. He pulled me from a depth of about 30 feet and got me to shore. Had he not done that, there was no way I would have survived. I was literally on the bottom of the lake and unconscious. My friend pulled me out, but it was God who saved me.
I’ve also survived many other close calls. There were several other times that I nearly drowned. On one occasion, a few years ago, my wife and I were walking on a frozen lake in the winter, and suddenly the ice started cracking, and I went under. I yelled for my wife to get to safety, but no one else was around. Somehow, I managed to get a hold of the side of the hole I’d fallen through and flop myself back on top of the ice, then, in a state of shock, inch my way to more solid ice and eventually the shore. There’s no human way I should have survived. But God…
In 2014, I fell down my basement stairs. I’ve seen a lot of cases where people have fallen down a flight of stairs and broken their necks or were killed by the fall. I had a badly broken arm, which now, I’ll never be able to lift more than 15 pounds with, but I survived that too.
And there have been other things. I survived a 70-mile-per-hour head-on collision on the freeway once and walked away without a scratch. I survived a fiery explosion that left me badly burned. I lost most of the skin on my face and head, arms and legs, but it’s grown back, and you wouldn’t know today that that ever happened. Another case where I should not have survived.
And a couple of years ago, my wife and I were returning home from a long ministry trip. It was a 12-hour drive, and we were eager to get home. About two hours from home, as we were speeding down the freeway, we could see dark storm clouds up ahead. They looked ominous, and they were. Traffic was heavy, and of course, there was extensive road construction, so instead of 3 or four lanes, there were only two. Semi trucks were rushing past us at breakneck speeds.
Then a torrential downpour began, along with strong wind. Visibility was reduced to just a few feet. Cars slowed down. Some stopped on what little space there was on the shoulder of the freeway. We continued, but now going only about 50 instead of 75. Semis continued to roar past us in the left lane. And then we hit the Wisconsin River bridge and our van started to “hydroplane.”
We spun around in circles, completely out of control. Regardless of the maneuvers I tried to slow us down and get us out of danger, our van just kept spinning. Several times we nearly crashed into semi trucks alongside us, and then we started heading straight again — but straight into the temporary guardrail. And beyond that guardrail was a 100-foot drop into the Wisconsin River. We both braced for impact, fully assuming this was the end, because we were still moving very fast and headed straight over the side of the bridge. And then…the van just stopped. Completely stopped. We were facing the wrong way in oncoming traffic, but were on the edge of the road…and we were safe. And we KNEW that only God Himself could have saved us.
Why am I sharing this with you today? As I said earlier, I’m nothing special. I didn’t seek ministry work. At one time, I was comfortable enough just being immersed in “churchianity,” working within the four walls of a building and never looking beyond that to what it means to be a true Christ-follower. I didn’t choose ministry work, and looking back, I was woefully unprepared when God told me it was time to begin. I was hesitant. I was defiant, even. I told God, “Great idea, but You’ve got the wrong guy, Lord!”
Now, it’s plain to see that I was always intended for this mission. And I also believe all of us are called to serve our King. We may feel inadequate and unprepared. We may feel a particular mission God’s calling us to is beyond our ability. But where does that ability come from? It comes from the One who puts His finger on us and tells us to “get busy.”
Throughout Scripture, we can see endless lists of people who were not only ill-equipped for ministry, but absolutely flawed individuals, and yet God used them in mighty ways. Consider Moses. Before we read about the Red Sea and the Ten Commandments, Moses was a murderer who ran away into the wilderness. When God called him, he made excuses for why he couldn’t obey. “Who am I?” he asked. “What if they don’t believe me? I don’t know what to say. Send somebody else.”
Then, there’s Gideon, hiding and threshing wheat in a winepress because he was afraid of the Midianites. He was a coward when the angel of the Lord called him a “mighty warrior.” He obeyed and learned that God can and will use you when you believe Him, even when you don’t believe in yourself.
David was a shepherd boy who became king. He defeated Goliath, wrote Psalms, and was called “a man after God’s own heart.” But he also committed adultery and orchestrated the death of the woman’s husband to cover his sin. His sin caused enormous destruction. But God still used him, even in his failures and sins.
Think of Jonah, who ran away from God and should have died in the sea — certainly after being eaten by a giant fish! But when he survived and finally obeyed God’s call, all the wicked people of Nineveh repented. Think of Peter, who denied Jesus three times. Peter failed publicly, personally, and painfully. But then he was restored, and Jesus Himself commanded him to “feed My sheep” — and he did. Need I mention Saul, the persecutor of the Christ-followers, who later became Paul and wrote much of the New Testament?
All of us have sinful and troubled pasts. We’re all naturally wretches, but I believe we all have the ability to do what God calls us to do. He calls all of us today to repent, believe, follow — and sometimes, lead. Even with an unbelieving and wicked past, He will use that testimony of yours to call others to Himself.
If He calls you directly to be a warrior for Him, don’t be surprised when your life is hard. Serving Christ is not “your best life now.” You will suffer trials, hard times, persecutions, and even situations that endanger your life. Moses was saved from Pharaoh’s death sentence. Samuel was protected and established as God’s prophet. David was repeatedly rescued from Saul. Elijah was fed and protected during famine. Daniel — saved from lions. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego survived the fiery furnace.
Friends, we need to acknowledge God’s divine hand of protection over our lives, and rest in the knowledge that He protects us, saves us and sends His Holy Spirit to guide and direct our steps…along with angels to rescue us from impending death, as long as our work for Him is not yet complete. We have nothing to fear, and should always be grateful for each new day He gives us to continue serving Him, in the work He’s called each of us to do.
