Have you noticed that some memories remain vivid over the years, while most of the past remains lost in a fog of oblivion? One of my sharpest recollections dates from my college days when I was a budding media producer. I had what I thought was a great idea and called a radio station program manager I knew to present it to him.
Don had just finished lunch when I arrived. His secretary ushered me directly into his office. He tipped his big executive chair back behind his desk and invited me to share my idea. At first, he interrupted with questions, but then as I proceeded he just sat and listened. I was so focused on my presentation that it took me a while to notice that his eyes were slowly narrowing.
As I watched, his breathing became slow and rhythmic. He gradually relaxed until he slumped in his chair. His eyes closed completely. He was gone. At the time, I didn’t know what do to. I was a student; he was an executive who might give me a job one day. Should I stop, should I keep talking? Nothing had prepared me for this kind of situation.
For reasons which escape me now, I just kept chattering away. Then, before my eyes, a transformation began to take place. Little by little, he started to become conscious. His eyelids began to flutter. The tone of his facial muscles returned. With a little jerk, his eyes popped completely open, his body stiffened and he leaned forward. He interlaced his fingers on the desk in front of him and nodded as if he had heard every word.
I just kept talking. I suspect he had no idea how long he was “out.” He asked me if I could recap the whole project in one sentence. This was done in a way to suggest that maybe my presentation was unfocussed and I needed to have a clear concise statement of purpose, but I knew it was because the poor man had no idea of what he was about to pass judgment on.
I reduced my idea to the one sentence he requested. He glanced at his watch, looked mildly surprised and suggested that I proceed to the next step and then report back to him. He stood up and opened the door for me and brought to a close the most unusual interview of my life.
As I think about this sharply detailed scene, I recall the words of a proverb: “A little sleep, a little slumber, A little folding of the hands to rest; So shall your poverty come like a prowler, And your need like an armed man.” Proverbs 24:33-34 My little idea wasn’t likely to either enrich or impoverish either of us, but what if I were making him the offer of a lifetime? What if I had proposed something that could have changed his life from that moment on? He would have missed it. That’s how poverty sneaks up on us, according to the proverb. Few people lose everything all at once. Little by little, lack of attention, misplaced priorities and ineffective effort steal away the opportunities to reach our goals
This happens in the spiritual realm all the time. Our moments of “spiritual wakefulness,” if I can use that term, are few and sporadic. We don’t pay attention when God is speaking to us. We let ourselves “drift off” and miss the big offer that He makes to us.
What is that big offer? It goes by different names, but most commonly we call it “salvation.” What is that? Salvation is the spiritual safety and security we have when we accept that Jesus’ death on the cross, was, in effect, our death. That’s the way God sees it. If we accept this truth, then God offers us both forgiveness for our sin and the righteousness of His perfect Son to bring us into relationship with Himself. That relationship is the door to eternal life that starts the moment we connect with God and goes on indefinitely into the future.
Ron Hughes
© September 2007