Wake up, O sleeper,
rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.
Ephesians 5:14
It's Monday morning, and behind your eyelids the sky is blue, the sun is shining and the day is new. But you're sleeping, somewhat peacefully, and every abrupt sounding of the alarm is met with disdain and resistance as you reach over to tap the snooze button, declaring to no one but the world, "just give me a little bit longer, and I'll be ready". For many, this is how a typical day begins. But for me, this is how my journey begins.
I don't remember what year or month it was, but I remember the setting well. I was hangin out with some neighborhood friends in my driveway and they asked me if I knew that I was going to heaven. "Of course", I replied, with the self-doubt that consumes the person who is only certain of one thing and that is they have no idea how to answer the question that comes next. "How do you know?", they asked. I didn't. But they told me how to know, and I remember talking to God that night before I went to sleep. And I admitted to Him that I sinned, that I do sin, and then naively promised Him I would never sin again. I told Him that I recognized Jesus Christ as His Son, that I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Savior and my only way to Heaven. God sounded the alarm and I woke up, but I wasn't ready to get up, so I hit the snooze bar and fell back asleep.
On January 23rd, 1998, my step-father woke me up to take a phone call. Step-fathers don't wake their teenage step-sons on Saturday mornings for phone calls. That is, unless the phone call is from your mother who is 300 miles away in Maryland visiting your sick grandmother. As I brought the phone to my ear, I knew who it was and the news that was going to break my heart. "Dustin, Grandma passed away last night." Within an hour, my step-father and I were packed and on the road. Five days later, after missing the funeral of his wife of more than 50 years, my grandfather passed away as well. I struggled with a lot of emotions that week. I felt guilty for not making the trip with my mother to visit my grandmother in the hospital; I felt confusion from my first experience with loss and death; I wondered what it must be like for my mother to lose her parents; I wondered what it would be like for me if I lost her or my dad. And I thought about God. I thought about the summers I had resisted going to church at my grandmother's urging, how she wanted so desperately for me to find God. And then, amazingly, the emotion that overwhelmed me the most that weekend was calm comfort. Words I heard Grandma and Pappy speak, words that sometimes they spoke to me and others that I overheard in conversation, played over and over in my mind. I remembered their acceptance of the gift of salvation and reconciliation, and I knew that they were at peace. That week brought me closer to God, and I began speaking with Him nightly, making requests, praising Him, thanking Him, receiving Him. I thought I had a relationship with God, I thought I was awake, but that was just the barely recognizable music in the background and it was disturbing the comfort of my sleep, so I reached up and hit the snooze bar begging for just a little more sleep.
Sometimes, when you absolutely have to get up for something, you ask someone to be your backup, to be your unsnoozable alarm. Or maybe when someone you know has to be up you call upon yourself or someone else to be their unsnoozable alarm. God does this too. He knows us so well, and He knows that we won't always receive Him immediately and because of that He places the right people in our lives, at just the right time to make sure we're awake. It's important to realize, though, that the decision to wake up, having the resolve to get up and move, has to be your own. Through the course of my first 22 years, I believed in God and even reached a point where I accepted Jesus as my personal Savior. But I refused to wake myself up for Our journey together. Instead, I allowed myself to sleepwalk through life, letting the people and things of this world guide me.
Through an important relationship in my life I was led to the church which I now attend and I remember initially feeling like this church was made just for me. It was the first time I had ever felt excited about going to church. I went for a few months off and on, learning more about God and the kind of life He wanted for me. But my stubborn, independent nature continued to keep me from pursuing a fully devoted relationship with Him. Then, in March 2002, the pastor graphically detailed the final hours of Jesus' life and I remember thinking to myself, "Dustin, you stupid stubborn mule, wake up and smell the coffee!". After hearing the details of the pain and suffering that Jesus endured with such courage and unconditional love, I finally woke up. I could no longer keep myself from this perfect Man who suffered beyond imagination for my imperfection. God moved me, He made my heart beat fast, He made it impossible for me to sleep a minute longer. I woke up and surrendered everything to this Man who gave so much for my undeserving soul, a Man who endured pain and heartache I never could, and fulfilled His promise to me knowing I would break my promises to Him daily.
And so my journey began.
to be continued ...