It's Awful Dark Out Here!

  Far too often I will wake in the early hours fantasizing that I am the servant that received the one talent, watching it clatter on the floor where I tossed it. In those moments, I have a memory relapse and forget names and faces.

  True, I was not a flaming evangelist during my years, not ever a Pastor of more than a hundred parishioners, nor a founder of a vast Christian organization. Just an ordinary Christian who walked his path through a maze.

  My eye rises from the Euler disked talent to the Lord's face, expecting a scowl. After all, I am just returning what he gave me. But, instead of a scowl, I see a forgiving smile, because I have admitted my failures and lack of faith and often thought, 'If only I had ........' With that forgiving smile a rush of memories flood my feeble brain. I see nameless teenagers from Corpus Christi, I see a young soldier from Ft. Wood on a back alley in Soringfield who bowed his head accepting Christ. I see Abera, Tura and Gudetta and other unknamed students from Ethiopia, I see Dan & Sherry, Roy and Nancy, Neil, Betty, Sue, Bill, Bro. Paquette and other New Englanders. then for 28 years in a small town and small church my ministry interacted with countless individuals, some of whom carried on tidbits of our encounter because they yielded to Christ.

  I never buried my talent, any bitterness that cropped up during those years faded quickly in the light of blessing from the Lord. All along the way he has continually added to my life a marvelous wife, four amazing kids, 12 grandkids and a continued stream of great-grandkids.

  Those waking moments of agony are replaced with consciousness of the presence of God's Spirit and the awareness of numberless friends that would crash FaceBook if I could connect all of them to it.


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