“I remember the days of old, I meditate on all Your works; I muse on the work of Your hands.”
In March of 1988 I had flown into San Francisco, lost and desperate. If God was real, I had to find Him, and if not . . . ? All during the flight I read from the worn King James Bible my boyfriend Peter had left in my house. A few weeks before I had asked Tom, a theatre friend, “How do I find God? I think there’s a prayer or something I’m supposed to say and then everything will change. You know what it is?” My friend claimed to have been born again because one day the sidewalks in New York City kinda glowed for him and in the world I traveled in, Tom was as close as anyone who could help me with my quest.
It was at a showing of Tom’s film where I met Peter—a man with major substance abuse problems. I had tried and tried to rehab the guy, but it didn’t work and when I refused to let him move in with me, he had flown to California.Tom suggested I read Ecclesiastes. Therefore, all during the flight from NYC into San Francisco, I read about how all was vanity,” and I thought, “well, yeah, it sure is.” Peter met me at the airport and I told him, “You were right—why not just get high and have a good time. I’m sorry I tried to reform you. There is no purpose to this life.” Amazingly, he answered, “No, say this prayer after me.” God then heard me confess to being a sinner (boy, I sure had come to realize that was true) and I thanked Him for Jesus dying for my sins. I asked Him to then be my Lord and my Savior.
No, the sidewalks of San Francisco did not start to glow, but when I again opened Peter’s big black Bible and began reading the Gospel of John, I found the One there to satisfy my deepest longing—I couldn’t get enough—the sidewalks didn’t glow, but the pages of that Bible most certainly did. Soon I met true Believers. One dear lady, when she learned I was Jewish, told me, “Oh, honey, you met your Messiah.” And another kind gentleman told me, “Just hold on to Jesus’ hand, He’ll never leave you.”
Are you considering surrendering to Jesus? Please know any and all things you want to hold onto, if it interferes with holding His hand and letting your Bridegroom lead you throughout the rest of your journey here on earth, hey, let it go—it’s junk compared to knowing, possessing and treasuring the PEARL OF GREAT PRICE.
TOMORROW, 26 YEARS LATER, I WILL BE AGAIN FLYING INTO SAN FRANCISCO, WITH A SPECIAL GIFT THE LORD HAD WAITING FOR ME YEARS AND YEARS AGO: MY HUSBAND MICHAEL. WOW! I AM AWED BY HIS MERCY AND GOODNESS. AND ONE DAY I WILL REJOICE ON MOTHER’S DAY BECAUSE ONE DAY I WILL BE TAKING A FLIGHT INTO THE NEW JERUSALEM WHERE MY YESHUA WILL ALLOW ME TO MEET THE PRECIOUS LIVES WHO WILL CALL ME MOTHER.
This morning the last song before the Pastor came to the pulpit was In Christ Alone. Together as the Messiah’s Body, we sang, Till He returns or calls me home, Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand
And when Pastor Billy then made mention of how we are all longing for His return, it reminded me of an unexpected moment i had yesterday morning. i was attending my monthly Word Weavers writers’ critique group. I did the unforgiveable– I forgot to turn my cell phone off. So there we were in our beloved writers circle when my husband texted me. I have an extra special text tone for Michael–it’s the sound of the shofar. So, when out of nowhere everyone heard the sound of the trump, WOW, if you could have have seen the look of sheer delight on everyone’s face. Of course, it didn’t take long to realize it was not the sound of the LAST TRUMP (oh, if only it were), but, I believe, it afforded us a moment to remember and reflect on our mutual longing.