As I contemplate the the Last Supper, the Passion, the deep melancholy that must have hit the disciples this weekend so many years ago, and then the glorious revelation of Easter (can’t you just hear the disciples first telling one another “the Lord is Risen!”), I think back to when God revealed Himself to me.
(WARNING – if you hate it when blogs get personal – skip this one.) At the same time, if you are someone who is wondering if God is real, then I would invite you to read this one.
When I was seven years old there were happy times. We lived in Prairie Grove, Arkansas, my father had started his own business, and we all often worked and played together. My Granddad Sharp, my mom’s dad, lived with us as he had begun the battle with cancer. He was my best friend. From this child’s point of view, all was quite well. As one might say, those were the good ol’ days. Perhaps they were somewhat like the days the disciples had with Jesus, walking along the way, teaching and being taught, seeing the miracles of Jesus’ love.
I don’t know when it all began – I’m sure years before I knew a thing – but slowly but surely things began crashing around our family. No one’s really ever talked to me about it, with me being the baby of the family and all, but I’m quite sure my parents (who will be reading this) went through some very hard struggles, perhaps even severe depression, as we went through a chain of difficult events.
My granddad died on March 7, 1979, just 11 days before I would turn 8. My dad’s business was not making enough money to keep up with the bills we had on the backhoe and dump truck. His dad’s health was also failing and he lived alone in Lakeland, Florida. Ultimately, these and other things led us to move to Florida to care for my Granddad Riley. Suddenly life was hard, scary, dark. Perhaps this year was like the times when Jesus began talking more and more of his death and was crucified.
Through all of this the amazing thing my parents always taught me was the power of giving and sacrificing. You see, we moved to Arkansas in the first place to care for mom’s dad. When we left Arkansas, although my parents could have declared bankruptcy, they didn’t AND they didn’t sell our house in Arkansas so that my oldest brother Billy could live in it while he went to college at the University of Arkansas. To be sure Billy maintained it and paid the utilities, but it would have been easier on my parents had they just sold the house. We left Arkansas and went to Florida to begin again and help care for Dad’s dad. All of these things required great sacrifice and great love – for family and for giving to others.
At the same time there were many prices to pay. We moved into a small duplex on the “wrong side of the tracks.” My mom had to go to work for the first time in my life and at the age of 8 I became a “latch key kid.” After school the house was often empty as my other brother (Bobby) who moved to Florida with us was 15 and busy being a high school teenager. My home became the local Boys’ Club and my comfort became whatever snack food I could get my hands on. I remember asking people for “fitty cents” for some soda or for candy. I also remember finding my mom’s hidden piggy bank and I frequently lifted change out of it to feed my “need” for some sugar. I remember finding my first pornography magazine and playing doctor – not innocently – with some of the other kids in the duplex complex. I remember running around with my friends, chewing tobacco, throwing fruit at cars, just about to begin the graffiti stage, and even getting stopped by a police car as we ran together on a deserted lot (all at the age of 8 or 9!).
Praise God He cared for (and cares for) me. During these difficult times God reached out to my brother Bobby and he became a follower of Jesus. In his excitement at this new found love he shared with me one night in our bedroom. He showed me the Romans road about sin, God’s provision in Jesus, and eternal life, but what I remember most was that he told me God wanted to be my Daddy. These were hard times for our earthly dad and God wanted to comfort me when I was alone at home or at the Boys’ club. He wanted to talk with me and walk with me and meet my needs. As a 9-year old heart can do, I believed. I surrendered. I had cursed “god” over the past year, and I remember that still today, being in our bathroom telling God that he was a piece of what I had just left in the toilet, but even with that here was God telling me that He loved me, accepted me, and would be my Daddy. I was a son of the King!
On that day I experienced the power of the Easter miracle. I experienced the resurrection power of a new life. And, I began to understand what it means to sacrifice, just as my parents had been showing me in part and as Jesus shows us perfectly. I am a new creation, my life being bought with the ultimate price, and now I pray I will live my life just as Jesus did.