Dec/12/07
This then is final stretch, heading to year end for us. It is the end to a most amazing year – full of trials and miracles, danger and shelter, crisis and care. Going through some of my old recordings of music ministry in the 60s and 70s in my Revival Reclamation Project, I was touched again by the words of our friend Andre Crouch, the man who brought church to the street and the charts during the Jesus Movement.
“I’ve had many tears and sorrows
I’ve had questions about tomorrow
There’s been times when I didn’t know right from wrong
But in every situation God gave blessed consolation
That my trials only come to make me strongThrough it all – Through it all
I’ve learned to trust in Jesus – I’ve learned to trust in God
Through it all – Through it all
I’ve learned just to depend upon His Word.”
I remember coming out of my two and a half week coma to the first song in English we heard since my arrival in South Korea. A nurse had left a little portable radio tuned to the only English station they had there; a station playing 60’s and 70’s hits.On that beautiful morning in Easter week of April, the song playing was sung by another friend of ours, Pat Boone who also prayed for us and wonderfully supported us during the crisis. He asked me “What was the song I was singing when you recovered?” I told him how great God’s timing and encouragement was to us hearing a familiar favorite voice on my own resurrection day – it was his great chart hit “April Love.” Such are the ways of the Lord. His infinite care in all the little details as well as the major battles of life are unmatched by any mere religion. He is the scariest, friendliest, funniest Person in the Universe. We want a world where nothing can go wrong, where good things happen only to good people, and bad things only come to bad people. We think a world like that where there was only safety, security and shelter would be the best of all possible worlds. And we would be wrong. Within a few weeks we would not want to live in that world. We would be bored out of our minds.The God Who made it all hard-wired risk into His Universe. All the things that make life great always carry that element of alternative possibilities. I have recently been meditating on the works of God, and that of His being the Entrepreneur is one of the most fascinating in Scripture. The old casting of lots, the Urim and Thummim and other odd practices incorporated into the direction and guidance of God are pointers to His willingness to let us take risks. All the great triumphs as well as the tragedies of life revolve around risk. It is the element that breathes into the regulation of His Universe all its random fractal color and variety. After all what are the great sins of mankind but simply risks taken outside of His direction and apportion? Without faith it is impossible to please Him. Without such “luck of the Lord” it would be impossible to please us.I have wondered what might be the most fitting way to share with you just how grateful we are as a family for what you have done in helping us as His extended heart and hands “through it all”, giving me another opportunity to serve Him and serve His world. Words cannot convey what it is like to come to the edge of death and be given another chance to get back into the battle, patched, scarred and mended as we may be.A week ago I received a wonderful story from someone who came to a meeting put together by another young musician friend of mine as a community fundraiser for a tragedy that took place in a small town that left parents and friends devastated by death and destruction. What happened to him that night is one of the clearest accounts I have ever been given of the dealings of the Lord in all of our lives. With his permission, I share his story with you. It is encounters like this with Christ that makes serving Him such an honor. It is why all the long weary miles and multitudes of faces and places are so worth it in His service. I am spared for stories like this to happen again for others. November 30, 2007 “On September 9, 2006, I went to Whitehaven Road Baptist Church with my wife and four school age sons for a fundraiser concert to benefit two young Grand Island men, one of whom had been killed and the other badly injured in the same car crash a few weeks earlier.While I lived less than a mile away, a Baptist church was one of the least likely places anyone who knew me would expect to find me that night, or any night, for that matter. It wasn’t simply because I was born and raised Catholic. My mother had been raised in a Baptist home in rural Maine before she converted to Catholicism in order to marry my father, a Catholic for many generations before he was even born. So, I had nothing more against the Baptist church than I had against the Catholic churches I had attended my entire life. I simply didn’t consider any church very relevant to my life, particularly on a Saturday night.Yes, my life at that time was, on paper and from a comfortable distance, fabulous. I had married the most beautiful and enchanting woman I had ever met and, to most casual observers, we had remained relatively happily married for 18 years. We had four sons who were born healthy and had stayed that way, excelling at both sports and academics. Neither my wife nor I had come from “money”, but after some lean years, my hard-earned law degree and even harder-earned law practice had produced material wealth beyond our expectations. We lived in a house that we had, literally, been calling our “dream home” for two years before it went on the market at precisely the time I won a big case and could afford to buy it. By 2006, all four of our sons attended private schools and my wife had been able to stop working, outside the home anyhow, when our youngest boy was born in 1999. And as for me personally, well back before September 9, 2006, anyone who had ever been introduced to me knew within seconds of meeting me that I was – drum roll, please — a trial lawyer. And not just a run-of-the-mill trial attorney, I assured you. I was thunder & lightning and fire & ice rolled into one. I would, modestly of course, remind all prospective clients (i.e. everyone I met and everyone they had ever met) that if you hired any other attorney to take your case to court, well, God help you. I, on the other, did not need God’s help, and neither, I believed, would my clients. As proof, I could point to a decade of “success,” particularly since opening my own law firm in April 2006. Things, I insisted without visible hesitation, could not have been better.
Of course, I guess you could say I was a bit prideful. Prideful enough to think that my wife and children should have been praising me more for my courtroom triumphs and the paychecks and purchases they produced, and complaining less about my absence from their life. And as for the drinking? Well, I had always liked “my beer” and it had never been a problem in my life before. Not really. Not as far as I was concerned, anyhow. Besides I had a very stressful career and I was entitled to a little enjoyment in life. I had new clients to drum up. I had crushing workloads and opposing counsel to deal with. I had great victories and large settlements to celebrate with my fellow attorneys. I had plenty of reasons to drink, and, hey, it went with the territory. My world and my obligations outside of my house were so big and important and pressing, that a little disappointment from the people inside my home would just have to be tolerated.
So, if it hadn’t been for Marc Scibilia and a terrible tragedy involving two of his former classmates, I never would have been at Whitehaven Road Baptist Church that Saturday night last September. My sons were fans of Marc’s music. I was — despite my preoccupation with “my” life — still a fan of my sons and their interest in music. As a shrewd attorney in the often cutthroat world of lawyer advertising and marketing, I was also keenly aware that the setting of a fundraiser for young men badly injured in a motor vehicle accident might prove fertile soil for me to sprinkle seeds of my renown as a personal injury trial attorney. I had previously represented a family member of one of the young men in the collision and I thought it would prove useful to be introduced around as a lawyer who knew his way around a courtroom. I was also very proud, of course, to be hand-delivering a sizable donation with my name and address on the check, in case anyone wanted to know from whom it was from..
It was a good crowd, very receptive it seemed to the concept of pain and suffering which was so often such a hard sell with jaded jurors that had not been touched by personal tragedy. So, I made my rounds for a few minutes, settled in next to my wife and sons to catch Marc Scibilia’s act and prepared to leave promptly after he finished. Now, even a fool had to admit Marc’s performance was terrific and my sons and wife were also very impressed. Out of courtesy for Marc’s preacher friend, who had come from so far away for God knows what, I decided I would listen politely for a few minutes before my family and I made a discreet and appropriately solemn exit. I thought longingly for a moment about the cold beer I would enjoy within the next half hour at the local pizzeria.
After a few minutes, however, I realized the pizza and beer would have to wait. At first, I think it was simply the New Zealand accent. It sounded kind of cool, hip and irreverent — just like I fancied myself. And the guy was funny, you had to give him that.
But then, it got kind of weird and uncomfortable. I probably would have left except it seemed this New Zealand preacher was speaking directly to me. He was talking about people getting “lost” and how sin wasn’t something that you could turn on and off whenever you felt like it. Sin was something that didn’t get better, it just got bigger. And as it got bigger and bigger, the sinner’s world got smaller and smaller. I started to look around me, sort of nervously, wondering if anyone else seemed to think the guy was talking directly to them and describing exactly what was going on in their lives. He continued to be funny and likable, but what he was saying was not funny and I definitely did not like it.
I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t stop listening. My wife and kids were deeply puzzled by this. My wife assumed I had some harebrained marketing angle for staying. I couldn’t blame her and at the same time I would have been more comfortable if that was what I was actually doing.
Then, the guy did the unthinkable. He calls out to the men in the audience to actually stand up in front of everyone and admit they were completely “lost” and needed to be found by…..by God, of all things. By God, indeed.!
My first thought was dismissive. “Okay fella, nice show and have a safe trip back to New Zealand, but it’s time for me get off this bus. All these other guys can stay on this nutso trip to the end but I was just being polite. As a matter of fact, I should have gotten off several stops ago. It’s not like I needed this ride in the first place, I mean I am a self-made man and doing very well for myself, thank you. I have full control over my life and everything in it, and…” My own voice trailed off in my head – drowned out by the annoying Kiwi, who was now not only talking, but counting. Counting out a minute and daring a hall full of men to stand up in front of their wives and children and friends and admit they were “lost” and needed to be….what exactly I wasn’t sure. It had something to do with God, but not the one I knew. This one went by the proper name of Jesus Christ and this Winkie character made it seem somehow that the Son of God was standing at the front of the room with the speaker while at the same time slipping into the seats next to and behind me. It was definitely freaking me out. By the time the count reached 30 seconds it seemed God Himself was calling me out, challenging my manhood in front of my family. “So, you want to be a real man. A real father. A real husband. Then why don’t you just stand up, and start being the real thing instead of the big phony you’ve been pretending to be for so long.”
In my professional life, I was trained to, and completely comfortable with, leaping to my feet in front of judges, juries and rooms full of other attorneys and assorted spectators and making long, impassioned arguments without a moment’s thought or hesitation. But this was completely different. I was frozen. Terrified. My knees seemed locked in a seated position. A prideful, mocking voice snapped at me inside my head. “Are you crazy? Don’t even think about standing up. You came here to market yourself as a fearless lawyer, a guy with all the answers. Now, you’re going to stand up in front of all these prospective clients and announce to the whole room that you are ‘Completely lost!’ You will be the butt of the biggest lawyer joke of all time. You will be finished on Grand Island, if not all of Western New York. Besides, your wife and kids will see it, too..”
Yes, thankfully my wife and kids were there, too, that night. Perhaps the Tough Love God that called me out that night knew there was one sliver of living tissue left in a heart turned almost entirely to stone, and He found it by revealing to me in that instant that the fate of my children, my marriage, my life and my soul would be decided by whether I chose to stand up or stay seated when God called one last time in a New Zealand accent that advised I had “30 seconds.”
I closed my eyes, gripped the chair back in front of me and wrenched myself to my feet. Suddenly, I could see, which was remarkable because my eyes were still shut tight, out of fear that I would open them and see everyone staring at me. I couldn’t blame them if they were. I have testified to the sensation I felt that night several times in the past year, always in the same way and in the best words I can think of to describe it.
When I stood up from my chair it was like standing up from a long underwater swim in a sewer. It was no longer murky and dark. I could see everything. My wife. My children. All of my life’s true blessings seemed to shine so bright so suddenly. They were sights I had not truly seen in years and had almost completely forgotten. It was incredibly good.. But I could also see myself clearly, and I was filthy. I didn’t know how I was ever going to get clean again.
Thankfully, Jesus Christ, the Lord and Savior I never knew I had, has proven to me and my family that He can clean up any mess, heal any wound, restore any life, marriage or family, and replace the hardest heart of stone with one of reborn flesh, blood and life. Over the past 15 months, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit have introduced me to an alternative universe that I never knew existed and could not have imagined. Using His grace, the Bible, my wife’s faith and gift of mercy, and at least three different Christian church congregations — most notably the people of Whitehaven Road Baptist Church and St. Stephen’s Roman Catholic Church for their annual Alpha course — God has given me a real life, a real marriage, a real family, a real purpose, and a real salvation. It has not been easy and it has often been very painful, but neither I, nor my family would trade the change that God has worked for anything in the world.
After much soul-searching and prayer, I still practice law, but not at all like I used to. I realize we are all here to serve God’s purpose, and God has one for everyone, even lawyers. I am far richer for it, and, of course, I am referring to anything but money. My old prideful and selfish purposes seem foolish, trivial and embarrassing.
I believe I am, finally, on the true great journey of life, and while I am still constantly in need of God’s guidance and mercy, I know I will never be lost again so long as I keep my sights set on Him.
In ways that are truly “so God”, my family’s path has re-crossed with Marc Scibilia and his family. Through Marc, I learned that the past year has brought incredible health trials to your life. I was very sorry to hear that and greatly relieved to hear that you are recovering. I look forward to seeing you speak again someday soon.
For what it’s worth, I wanted you to have my testimony because it is also very much yours. I truly cannot thank you enough for your obedience in God’s service and the passion with which you use your considerable gifts of teaching and communication to shine God’s light into the darkest, neediest places in the human heart. – particularly mine.” – End
So, thank you all again. Your sacrificial investment of time, prayer and encouragement in our lives and ministry is something we deeply treasure. May He bless you and open new doors of opportunity in this coming Year of New Beginnings for us all –
Love in the Beloved of our souls –
Winkie, Fae and William.
