Remembering the Way

Remembering the Way
Wednesday, August 28, 2024 by Susan Lyttek

“Indeed, I myself thought I must do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth.” Acts 26:9

Paul thought he was doing what was right. He though, as a Jew, that he knew who God was and what God wanted. But he was so far from where God wanted him to be that God had to knock him to the ground and blind him.

Whenever Paul was asked why he risked death, abuse, or even worked so hard to maintain both a career and a ministry, his answer was always the same scripturally. He gave his testimony. He said where he had been and what he had been doing when God got his attention.

In September, the focus will be on dreams. We will return to remembering in October. But I wanted to end August with the most critical remembering of all, remembering the way God knocked each believer to the ground to get his or her attention. Sometimes that story is as dramatic as Paul’s. Sometimes, like the still small voice that confronted Elijah, it is God’s whisper that makes us crumble.

Whatever the case, each lover of Jesus has a moment in life when he or she knew they were not enough. A moment when, like Job speaking to God in the storm, that person realizes how small they are compared to an infinite God.

Remember that at that time you were separate from Christ, … without hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ. Ephesians 2:12-13

I spent most of my teenage years and early twenties in a hate/indifference/infatuation relationship with God. I can’t call the times I called on God for help or even pretended to serve him as love which is why I used the word “infatuation”. I thought I loved God in those moments, but they were fleeting and grounded only in my emotions. Most of my early teens I hated or denied God as I referred to in an earlier post. Most of my late teens and early twenties, I ignored him. I didn’t need such a thing. I was doing okay.

Until I wasn’t.

Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. 1 Corinthians 1:26-27

Gary and I hadn’t been married all that long. We fought a lot; that intensified whenever I knew he was praying for me. I was going to grad school and sometimes taking a prerequisite class at the community college at the same time. Working four part-time jobs to pay for my schooling meant I was often beyond exhausted. Our budget-friendly diet that relied on a lot of ramen and pasta had wreaked havoc with my weight and the stress of it all often had my stomach blowing up like a painful balloon. On top of it all, my latest attempt to quit smoking, another trigger for marital fights, had failed dramatically.

And at my country club job, the one that paid the most, my annoying boss wouldn’t let me leave after a shift without praying for me and asking me questions about Jesus.

Having gone to church all my life and then to two religious colleges, I knew everything I needed and wanted to know about God.

But my boss, a former Hell’s Angel, kept telling me stories, his stories, about what God had done to rewire him inside and out. “I thought I’d be dead by now. I never expected to have a wife and a family. Jesus can do that.”

One cold winter morning, alone in our on-base housing unit, (well, the two cats were there) I was feeling pretty pitiful. I’d been scouring the house to see if I could find enough change to cobble together to get a pack of cigarettes. (I couldn’t.) Spread out on the couch before me was all the reading and homework I had to get done by that evening. It was an impossible pile of work. The law class that was a required part of the degree had me stymied and feeling like an idiot. And today, of all days, my stomach was rock hard with pain and my head throbbing with the beginnings of a migraine.

I collapsed onto the floor in tears. “John said you could do something about this mess I am, Jesus. I’m not sure I believe it, but I have nothing else I can do and nowhere else to turn.”

At first, the idiot feeling intensified. Then, a strange warmth came over me, moving towards my stomach. I watched, shocked, as my belly flattened and the pain disappeared.

It was then I knew that Jesus was real and bigger than any understanding of God I’d had previously.

That was my way to remember. Paul had his. My boss, John, had his. What’s yours?

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