My hopes, over time, have changed. At every pivotal point in life they seem to progress; evolve, some might say. They get bigger and better.
When I was a child I hoped to become a race car driver. Speeding legally sounded too amazing to pass up. Unfortunately I could not manage the initial stages of professional racing – learning to drive stick shift. A few goes in a Mazda Miata convertible (hey ladies) when I was sixteen was enough. You know what they say: “Those who do not make it in the race industry move on to youth work.” And here I am, a bike-riding, youth worker. The Billingham team, plus one, complains that I am in my second year, unable to chauffeur them around. They will get over it.
My hopes are totally different now.
One hour ago I had the most remarkable conversation with a man named Dave. I did not expect to speak with him; in fact, I intentionally avoided him. I noticed he had a severe problem with his right leg and I wanted to pray for him. His glare at me though suggested he didn’t want to be bothered, so I carried on.
I was the one who didn’t want to bother.
Twenty yards up the path I came to a fork in the road. Right or left? I was lost on a path I had walked before. Then came an “aha” moment when, as I understand it, the Holy Spirit suggested I wait to ask Dave for directions. I believe God confused my way. I really wanted an excuse to pray for him, and tell him about Jesus. So I began standing around and over-dramatizing the fact that I was lost. Picture me as Indiana Jones, map in hand, surveying the entrance of two mysterious paths, one leading to certain death, the other to riches unknown. Needless to say, Dave knew I was lost, yet I initiated the encounter.
He was the most delightful person to speak to and our conversation lasted an hour. We discussed our lives, personal world views, evolution, morality, and the life of Jesus. At the end of it all I prayed for his leg, in faith, with boldness, declaring the blood of Jesus over every damaged nerve. He lifted his cane, walked, and suggested that maybe the healing would take time. I prayed again, in faith. He lifted his cane, walked, and made the same suggestion.
Placing myself under evaluation, being the over-analytical type, I came to realize my fascination was more so with his healing than his heart. When I see a cane, wheelchair, or cast, I think, Jesus wants to move. I should think, Jesus wants to love. This is my new hope: the body of Christ will collectively see the power of Jesus revealed, through our love. Dave and I both know we will cross paths again, or maybe I will sneak up on him from behind again. When I do, Lord help me, I want it to love him.
The Scripture, “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen,” reminds me of our daunting duty to convey to people that a God we cannot see, cannot hear, and cannot show ‘convincing’ evidence of wants to love them, heal them, and save them. I walk away from encounters with people like Dave and look at the trees, or think of authentic faith, like that lived out by John Rhodes. These ‘evidences’ are enough for me to give everything to God.
We do not have a lot to lose if we give everything to God and He is a figment of our imaginations. We have lots to lose if we do not give anything and He proves to be who He says He is.
Let the love of Christ, through you, become evidence to other people of God’s existence.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MICHAEL NORTHRUP
New Haven, CT | 23
PROJECT: Coulby Newham
Michael attended Liberty University to study biblical studies. He is passionate about worship and evangelism. He is starting his second year in Coulby Newham at The King's Academy. Hi, Mom!
