Over the course of my 57 years, I have heard of the promises of God over and over again. I’ve heard how He is faithful. I’ve heard of His power, and I’ve heard of His promises…again.
Somewhere around 2008, I truly had a season where I wasn’t so sure of those promises, or the God that made them. In the process of losing most everything that I owned, disappointing hundreds of people, including the ones most dear to me, I very literally considered taking my own life.
I had already experienced the death of a spouse, the death of my dad, and the approaching death of my mother. Jenny and I had blended our families into a family with six daughters in the house, and four of them driving. The business I was in – and had been highly successful in – fell apart within six weeks. The ministry I was serving was bleeding cash and I stepped aside to allow the family in the business to thrive. It was a dark and difficult season. A time in life when I was truly done with life. The folks that had once contacted me, called me their friend, asked for my help and for references that I could give couldn’t be found by the FBI. Jenny and I were trying to honor the promise to send our girls to college while scratching every day to just make it through another week.
It seemed like an endless season, but in hindsight, it was a short period
of painful lessons being learned the hard way.
And then, right in the middle of the lowest season imaginable, GOD. There He was.
I recall, with crystal clear vision being on a plane from Los Angeles, headed back to Atlanta, GOD. I had grabbed a chance for a little work promoting a film in LA but to no avail. The young guy that sat next to me looked at the bible sitting on my tray and asked why I was reading “that book.” I know what you’re thinking – “come on Chuck! Those things don’t really happen.” Well, hang on. This isn’t what you think it is.
This young man was in sweats, dreads hanging well below his shoulders, tattoos everywhere I could see, and the largest pair of Beats I’d ever seen. And right there, GOD.
My answer to his question? Bro., it’s all I got left. With great surprise I heard him say these life-altering words; “Bro., then you got all you need.” I turned to him with a touch of disdain and saw him smile with a big gold tooth right up front. We chatted a few minutes and he put his Beats on and fell asleep for the remainder of the redeye flight home.
I was caught in the middle of a poor, poor pitiful me moment with the awareness that this young man, clearly different from me in every possible way, had a deeper, healthier understanding of life than I ever would.
He was confident in the fact that if I had the Word of the Divine,
I had everything I could ever possibly need.Try a few of these promises on for size and comfort:
2 Peter 1:4 Jeremiah 29:11 Matthew 11:28-29 Isaiah 40:29-31
Philippians 4:19 Proverbs 1:33 Romans 10:9 Proverbs 3:1I never officially met that dude on the plane, but I will always remember
those words, “then you got all you need.” He was right then,
and I am living proof that he is right today.
From those days of failure, fear, fatigue and frantic pace, I now am fully contented and wonderfully grateful that Jenny and I survived that season, and grew stronger through it. I never want to experience it again, but will forever be grateful for the lessons learned (the hard way). I am more grateful, certainly fulfilled, at times overwhelmed, and confidently joyful. Those promises became my lifeline, and they never failed to comfort me while trudging forward toward all that the Divine has in store for me.
If you are in a season of great despair, jump into the Word of the Divine, because “you got all you need.” If His Word was my lifeline, His lifeline is also available to be yours. Take hold, hang on, and stay His course. He is always faithful. Just this morning in my time of meditation I was thanking the Divine for these words; “Remember my teachings and keep my commandments, and length of days and years of life will be added to you.” Proverbs 3:1
Like he said, “you got all you need.”
–AChuck