My children have invented a new game at the dinner
table. It consists of dividing the table
into geographical locations and then they choose their seats based on what
place they would like to eat their dinner. Tonight two
of my children were in “sunny Georgia”, the other two were at “a beach in
Florida” and Little Joy and I were told we were in “a mudhole in Iowa.”
I just had to laugh because for those of you
who have seen my car the past two weeks that is the hard core truth. For the rest of you lucky folks who don’t
know what I’m talking about I will give you a little clarity, because a picture
is worth a thousand words.
No need to blur out my license plate for identity protection,
already done. Believe it or not my van actually
got worse after this picture was taken.
Today there was no red visible; it looked like I drove a brown van. My headlights did not shine brightly because
of the extra layers of mud caked on them.
I’ve never been so excited to wake up to freezing temperatures a few days ago just so I wouldn’t have to drive in mud!
On a side note, my poor van finally got a bath! It’s the little things in life isn’t it?
The past few days I’ve been thinking about all the times I’ve
felt stuck in a mud hole. I would dare
to say I am probably not alone in those kinds of thoughts. Whether you’re a mom stuck in the mundane
routine of diapers and counting the hours until bedtime or living the single
life wondering if you will ever be a mom. Or maybe you’re a business man struggling with finding purpose in
climbing the corporate ladder or a man on a ladder, wondering if there is
anything more to life than working paycheck to paycheck. No matter who we are, all of us have had different moments or seasons in our life where we just feel stuck.
I hate how negative thinking always has a downward spiral
affect. Those thoughts of how mundane
and boring my life is lead to thoughts questioning my life’s purpose,
wondering if I’m doing enough for my family, my friends, my neighbors, my
church, and the Kingdom of God. They even
lead to more selfish thoughts sometimes like why do I not have enough money to
travel the world or take my whole family on a cruise.
What’s the deal? Do I
need a new hobby, a healthier diet, a better workout routine (or maybe just a
workout routine period? Ha!), a new book, a different job? The list could go on and on. The real question becomes, when most of us live a life that lacks for nothing, “Where is our joy?”
As I was praying about what the Lord wanted me to write next He reminded me of a few times in my life where I felt stuck and was asking
myself that very question. But He highlighted one particular time.
This story I'm about to share with you comes
from a time period in my life when I was not a mother, I didn’t have a house to
clean or dinner to cook. I wasn’t even
married. It’s funny how we always think
our feelings will change when our circumstances do. But more often than not, the answer we’re
looking for will never be found in a change of our circumstances.
When I was eighteen I started dating a guy I am going to
call, Mr. Farmer. I had had a crush on
Mr. Farmer since I was a giggly, junior high girl, with braces who was
frequently compared to looking like Olive Oil from Popeye, due to my string
bean physic with absolute NO curves. Mr. Farmer happened to be the big
brother to one of my very good friends and our families were also friends. So when he finally asked me out I thought I
was the luckiest girl in the whole world.
We dated through my freshman year of college and I was certain he was
the one. I loved him. I loved his family. My family loved him. Everything was perfect.
Then at the end of my freshman year of college, Mr. Farmer’s
family walked through tragedy. A few
years before Farmer’s dad had became a quadriplegic in a car accident and had gone
from full time farmer to sitting in a wheelchair. Then one day in May as our college classes
were ending for the summer, he had another accident in his wheelchair that cut
off his air supply for too long and put him in a coma. I was at the hospital with their family
during that week he was on life support.
I still remember everything about it.
I vividly remember the day the family had to make the heart wrenching
decision to take him off life support. I
remember what I was wearing and the room and the people who were there and the
prayers. I remember standing outside
that hospital room watching Mr. Farmer, along with my good friend, their other
siblings and their mother hold each other as they said good bye to their
husband and father.
Something changed in me in that moment. Death and tragedy always leave a mark. For me, in that moment, I think the Lord was
reminding me to set my eyes on eternity and remember my life on this earth is
but a vapor. But when I walked out of
the hospital that day I was forever changed.
My freshman year of college I had spent lightly seeking the
Lord and finding what my own personal relationship with Him looked like. But I wasn’t ready to totally surrender my
life to Him because I knew that would require something of me. It would require me to surrender areas of my
life I had comprised. It would require me to let go of things I wanted to hang on to. I wasn't ready to do that.
Thankfully, the summer before I went to college I had gone
on my first mission trip. I loved it so
much I had applied to be a summer intern the next year at a camp in Texas.
Three weeks after Mr. Farmer’s dad passed away I was set to
leave for my eight week internship hundreds of miles from home.
I left running.
I felt a little like Jonah I think. I had this little voice inside trying to
speak but I thought if I just go far away from here I won’t be able to hear it
anymore and I won’t have to do what I’m afraid He’s asking me to do. I didn’t take a phone or a computer. I didn’t want anyone to be able to get in
touch with me unless it was an emergency.
Because you see I loved Mr. Farmer.
I wanted to marry him and I’m pretty confident he wanted to marry me
too. And we would have had a good life
and a good marriage and a good family. But
there was one problem. Mr. Farmer wasn’t
a believer. He had grown up in church
but didn’t have a personal relationship with Jesus. But he was such a great guy so that didn’t matter
that much right? But then why was I
running? Truthfully I didn’t know at
the time. All I knew was that I felt
like I was suffocating and I just needed to breathe.
That summer the Lord was so good to me. He surrounded me with couples and families
who centered their lives and relationships upon the Lord. Especially Carl and Pat, otherwise known as
the interns' summer grandparents. Carl
and Pat were the camp cooks and loved by all.
During our summer with them they celebrated their 40th
wedding anniversary. Their anniversary
was on a Sunday, July 10th, I'll never forget it.
The night before their
anniversary, Carl had told all the interns his surprise for Pat was a wedding
ceremony to renew their vows. He wanted all the girl interns to be her
bridesmaids, but we had to keep it a secret. On Sunday mornings the camp staff would have
a church service, with worship and someone sharing a word, before all the
campers came later in the afternoon. The
plan was to have the ceremony immediately following the staff church
service.
That Sunday morning started off
the same as all the rest, after worship the person designated to share a message
would get up and speak for a few minutes and then we would pray together. But after worship, before the speaker began, Carl
spoke up and asked if he could share something.
He opened his Bible and said in his sweet southern drawl, “This morning
in my quiet time with the Lord He told me to share this verse with one of you
interns. I don’t know which one of you
it’s for but I suspect the Lord will let you know.” He then proceeded to read 2 Corinthians 6:14
which says, “Do not be yoked with unbelievers….” That’s all I heard before the tears came
quick and hot to my eyes, as the Lord confirmed in my heart that the message
was for me.
As much as I loved Mr. Farmer, the truth was our
relationship was not founded on Jesus. But I had been struggling against the Lord's leading. So
he hadn’t given his heart totally and completely to the Lord. He was a great person, kind and loving,
surely God would want me to marry someone like that. Right? But because I had been living my own life in
lukewarm Christianity I didn’t see why that one fact mattered so much. But that Sunday morning after the preaching
was done and we all bowed our heads to pray, when I opened my eyes I knew why
that one fact DID matter more than all the rest. We opened our eyes to see Carl, on his knees,
in front of his wife of forty years, washing her feet, and asking her to marry
him for the next forty years. I knew in that
moment, neither I, or Mr. Farmer had any idea what that kind of love looked
like. The only thing I did know, was that
love was what I wanted. I wanted a
marriage like the one I saw in front of me.
A love like Carl and Pat’s. But I
knew that kind of love could only come when Jesus was at the center of it all.
I cried through the entire wedding ceremony. Most people probably thought I was crying
because of how sweet the ceremony was but honestly I don’t remember a thing
about the actual ceremony because the whole time my heart was in turmoil. Immediately after it was over I ran from the
chapel and into the nearest bathroom stall to try to gain some sort of
composure. I’m not sure how long I
stayed in there but long enough to get my breathing back to normal and the snot
to stop pouring out of my nose (yes, yes it was one of those ugly cries). I took a deep breath before opening the door
but as soon as I saw who was standing on the other side of the door I lost it
all over again.
Carl.
Carl was standing there with open arms ready to wrap me in
the biggest grandpa bear hug. I can
still feel that hug. And then he told
me, “Paige, I lied in there when I said I didn’t know who that verse was
for.” He said, “I didn’t want to
embarrass you in front of everyone but the Lord told me it was for you.” He continued, “I’ve heard you talk about Mr.
Farmer and he sounds like a great young man but he is not the one God has for
you.” I buried my head in his chest as
the tears came again and I said through the sobbing, “I know.”
I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon by myself,
having a conversation with God. I went
from sad to angry.
Why God? Why can’t you just save him and then we can
get married and have a marriage like Carl and Pat’s? Why? I
cannot break up with him Lord! First of
all, I love him Lord! And second of all,
it will crush him! He just lost his dad
Lord. I don’t want to do anything to
hurt him more. Please Lord there has to
be another way. I can’t do it. Why are you making me do this? Why? Why? Why?
He only answered me back with one question, “Do you trust
me?”
I didn’t want to answer.
But I had a choice.
He always gives us a choice.
Yes.
Yes, Lord. I trust You.
And then I made a declaration. It went something like this.
Lord, if You are really asking me to walk away from him then I’m
done dating Lord. I don’t want to do
this anymore. It hurts too much. So if You ever want me to get married, well
then you will have to put him on a silver platter and shove it right under my
nose because I’m not looking.
I'm sure the Lord got a good laugh at me that day. Especially because He knew what was coming next. It makes me laugh now but in the moment it was not funny.
That day I knew I had to break up with Mr. Farmer but I
still had four weeks left at camp and I was not about to have that conversation
through a letter or a phone call. So I
just had to wait until the summer ended.
The crazy part of this story is I met Kentucky Boy, my
husband, later that same day. The timing
of it all still blows my mind. We hardly
spoke that first day besides brief introductions because I honestly I had meant what
I said to God and I had no interest in dating or meeting someone else.
The first part of that week Kentucky Boy was at camp I was
extremely sick and was restricted to the camp while everyone else went across
the border to work. I spent my time
resting and talking with God, and dreading what I knew I had to do when I came
home. On Thursday night of that week,
after chapel when everyone had free time, I quietly sneaked away from
the crowd to sit on a swing on the far side of the campground, away from everyone
where I could be alone with my thoughts. After some time, I
felt a tap on my shoulder. Kentucky Boy was
standing there and asked if he could join me.
I was indifferent really but as he sat down he asked me this question,
“So what’s your story?” Evidently my gloomy, heavy heart was clearly worn on my sleeve.
I’ve never been very good about masking my feelings. For whatever reason, I decided to unload the
weight of my life’s problems on this perfect stranger. I told him all about Mr. Farmer and what had
happened at Carl and Pat’s anniversary just days before and I told him how much
I was dreading going back home because I knew God was asking me to break up
with him but I didn’t want to.
What I remember most about that whole night is that before
we parted to go our separate ways he asked if he could pray for me. I don’t think my mouth dropped open for real
but that is exactly what I wanted to do because I couldn’t believe it. I had
never had a guy pray for me besides my dad.
And if the fact that he was praying for me wasn’t enough the content of
his prayer totally floored me. He
didn’t just pray for me. He prayed for Mr.
Farmer too. Even though I was starting to get the picture that he liked me at
this point and wanted to ask for my number, he didn’t. He prayed for me and Mr. Farmer and that God
would show us the path He wanted for us both.
The rest of those three weeks got even crazier and would
make this story way too long but maybe one day I’ll fill you in on the rest of
the details.
But when I came home, at the end of the summer, my stomach was in knots for days. I knew what I had to do, but Mr. Farmer was expecting me to be running back into his arms and moving on with
life. What he didn’t know was that I was
about to break his heart and mine in the process. I know many people misunderstood me. Many thought, including my own brother, I
came home from a summer away, had met another guy, and was moving on without a
care in the world.
Oh that was so far
from the truth. No one knew about the
weeks I had wrestled with God and no one knew how God had spoke to me through Carl
and Pat. No one believed me that God had told me to break up with Mr. Farmer before I ever met Kentucky
Boy. For days I didn’t sleep well,
I sat up late talking to my parents and I waited. I wasn’t sure if I could ever get myself to
do it. I did not know how I was going to
look him in the face and walk away.
One night in August I finally got the courage. I remember the summer breeze and I remember
his blue shirt and I will never forget looking him in the eyes and saying, "I
have to break up with you." And him just
asking me, “Why?” I tried explaining but
even as I was saying it I was starting to doubt. The only thing I remember after that were the tears
and my own silent prayer, begging God to take care of him, to make sure he was
ok and that one day he would forgive me.
I’ve asked the Lord many times since that night why I
remember it so vividly. Especially now,
after twelve years. As I began to write down
this story He gave me my answer.
“It’s because my daughter, that’s the night I first taught you surrender.”
To surrender your heart.
To surrender your plans. To
surrender your loved ones.
You trusted me when it didn’t make sense. You trusted when it hurt and when it hurt others. You trusted me with your future and you
trusted me with his. You trusted even
when you couldn’t see on the other side.
You trusted when others misunderstood you. You trusted even though you didn’t know if it
was going to turn out all right. And you
obeyed.
It really all comes down to obedience. I teach my children obedience every day. I’ve told them over and over how learning to
obey is one of the most important things I can ever teach them. It’s much easier telling them about it than
actually doing it. Just yesterday in fact I sat across from one of my daughters as
we were discussing her latest struggle to obey. When I asked her why she hadn't been obeying lately, her answer held so much truth. She looked at me and said, “It’s hard to
obey.”
She’s right. It is
hard. Everyday our flesh, our thoughts,
war against our spirit and we have to choose to obey. The choice is always the same, to obey
or disobey.
The Lord showed me how, so often, we think if we obey Him in
the big things, the big decisions, than we are good. But it’s the little choices, the everyday
choices we make that lead us towards Him or away. Those moments or seasons when I feel stuck,
is usually because somewhere I made a choice to disobey. I made a choice to live outside of His
will. I made a choice to complain,
gossip, or idolize something more than Him.
I made a choice to hold a grudge rather than forgive, I made a choice to
lose self-control in my anger, or I made a choice to watch television instead of
getting into His presence.
He calls us to walk
worthy of our calling. I don’t want
to just obey Him in the big things. I
want to make the hard choice everyday to obey Him in everything. I want to obey when it's easy and I want to obey Him when it's hard. I want to obey Him because I love Him, because
He’s a good Father, who loves to bless his children. I don’t want to miss his blessings because of
my selfish pride. His ways are always
higher than ours. His plans are always better
even if they seem painful. Sometimes He
asks us to walk away from things, even things that are good, not to punish us,
but only because He has something far greater waiting on the other side.
I don’t know why the Lord brought my husband into my life so
quickly after I surrendered, that hot July day in Texas, when I have friends
who have waited for years to see the answers to their prayers. But I do know
the Lord is a rewarder to those who diligently seek Him. I do know that whoever loses his life for His sake and the gospel’s will save it.
Today, whether you find yourself in a “mud hole in Iowa” or
at “a beach in Florida” I hope you are seeking the Lord with all you have. Run in
such a way that you will win….run straight to the goal with purpose in every
step. (1 Corinthians 9:24-26) And if He asks you to lay things aside, even good
things, do it! Do it so you can press on towards the goal to win the prize
for which God has called you heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:14)
Make the Choice.
P.S. For those of you like me who always want to
know the happy endings to the stories; about two years after I ended it with
Mr. Farmer I got the answer to my prayer.
I got a call from my dad saying that Mr. Farmer had stopped by their
house for a visit and to tell them that he had given his life to the Lord and he
finally understood and respected me for standing up for what I believed God had
told me to do. Now he is married and
has two beautiful girlies.
And Kentucky Boy and I
got married and during our wedding ceremony we washed each other’s feet, just
like Carl and Pat.
