What is more important to you than
God?
Though my husband, Paul, grew up in a poor
family, by the time he was 17, he thought he had everything a guy could want.
His older sister and brother-in-law had a ski boat and gave him water skis and
included him on their team of semi-pro water skiers. He had a good job
(carrying block for building foundations), immense strength, the fun of skiing,
a girlfriend, even God. As a youngster, he had believed in Jesus Christ as the
only way of eternal salvation. But, in order of importance, God came at the
bottom of the list.
But the Hound of Heaven (see the
heartrending poem by Francis Thompson) kept after him, asking for his attention.
Resentful, Paul didn’t want to do evil; he just didn’t want to give God the
time. He pointed out to himself that he gave God His Sunday mornings, and that
was all he was willing to give. God whispered, touched, requested recognition.
He reminded, pestered, nagged. Finally, pressed beyond endurance, Paul stood
up, shook his fist heavenward, and cried, “God, get off my back and leave me
alone!”
Five days later, driving recklessly in
a pouring rain, Paul rolled his car off the Missouri River levee in Omaha. His
back was broken and his legs paralyzed. It didn’t take him long to see that all
of his treasures were lost forever. He had no strength for work or fun; the
girlfriend left; the boat and skis were useless.
He refused to make a “foxhole
confession” and continued in his confusion and depression. But God kept talking
to him. Paul saved up his evening ration of sleeping pills, intending to end
his life. But he saw himself standing before God, Who said, with some
annoyance, “You’re early!” The excuses he offered did not impress. Again, he
heard, “You’re early!” So, he gave up the plan. Months later, still in the
hospital, Paul turned to God and said, “I’m a broken vessel. But if You can use
me, I want You to.”
God changed his life completely. He stopped crying about
his disability, learned to manage life from a wheelchair, finished high school,
got a job, went to college. He took as his own the song, “Treasures,” by
Margaret Snell Nicholson, sung to the tune of, “The Unveiled Christ.”
Treasures
One
by one He took them from me,
All the things I valued most.
Until I was empty-handed;
Every glittering toy was lost.
Then I walked earth's highway grieving,
In my rags and poverty;
'Til I heard His voice inviting:
Lift your empty hands to me.
So I held my hands toward Heaven,
And He filled them with a store
Of His own transcendent riches,
'Til they could contain no more.
Then at last I comprehended
With my stupid mind and dull,
That God could not pour out His riches
Into hands already full.
God gave him many
more treasures – he married, worked a good job, adopted three children, had “a
wonderful life.” But the best treasure has been God Himself. Paul has had the
joy of the Lord every day of his life since he gave it to God. He has had many
opportunities to tell people of God’s goodness.
For 53 years he has said he is
happier now, in a wheelchair, than he was when he was strong and capable and
miserable in his rebellion. He loves the Lord with all his heart, marvels daily
at God’s written Word, appreciates His large and small blessings. He looks
forward to heaven, not because he will be able to walk (self-transportation
will probably be much better than that), but because he will see the Lord face
to face and be free from the pressures of our sinful nature.
For Paul, God is
the greatest treasure. Is He your greatest treasure?
--Lynda Shenefield
