My Voice

Joel 2

Then afterward I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions. (Joel 2:28)

I am approaching the end of this life. There’s no doubt about it, so please don’t try to argue the facts with me. And, in faith, I am as comfortable in facing death as anyone can be on this side of the great divide. As a follower of Christ, I can hope for and even believe in the promises of God and in his ultimate goodness and mercy.

But first, I want to share something with you. It’s a question that has haunted me, more and more as I have grown older. Perhaps, in a way, this is the ultimate question of life, at least of this life in this world and at this time in history.

Here’s the question: “As you live out your senior years, and as you contemplate leaving this life, do you have anything to say to the world? Do you?” Let me repeat: “As you live out your senior years, and as you contemplate leaving this life, do you have anything to say to the world?”

It’s a simple question. But to me, it’s a profound question, one which, I fear, is answered by only a few. And, it begs a second question: “If your answer is no, I have nothing to say about my life, and what it has meant, how can that be? Can your life have been so empty that you literally have nothing to say about it?”

There’s an underlying premise to my question. It’s one of the advantages of age, that as we count the years, it becomes easier to look back and take meaning from them. For believers, it means that we can more readily look back and see the hand of God in the ups and downs of our lives. In so many words, age gives us a perspective that perhaps we couldn’t see when younger, when we were living through the throes of those ups and downs.

Who am I? Well, I’m not a philosopher. A nobody. Yes, really, a nobody, a person living in what you call the first century, in Galilee, and actually in Nazareth, the home town of Jesus, my Lord and Savior. I was an adult when Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to live here, and so I saw him grow up, and then leave Nazareth when he was thirty years old. I, of course, have outlived Jesus, since, as you know, he was crucified while still a young man, then raised and taken up to heaven. My life has been a witness to all of that.

But, strangely, even though I was a witness, for whatever reason, I did not come to faith in Jesus until much later, actually, until I was approaching old age. It’s hard to explain why, but I will try to share my story with you.

Actually, part of my answer is that, for the longest time, I really had no story. No, none at all. It’s true, I did witness Jesus, and I did follow him as he traveled throughout Galilee and eventually on to Jerusalem, where he met his fate. But for me, my witness of Jesus did not produce any kind of faith story.

Others, of course, did have amazing life-changing stories, of healings, and of sight restored, and of relationships mended, all because of Jesus. You can read about them in your day. And I can assure you that what you can read is only a fraction of the Jesus story. I witnessed much, much more.

But somehow, I was not touched by Jesus. Unlike so many others, my life went on as always, day after day, with no special quality to it, almost as if I was sleepwalking, with no particular purpose, no adventure, just a monotone of days. Everything was so ordinary, as if I lived in a fog. Can you relate?

Don’t get me wrong, I was a good Jew. I attended synagogue, was well versed in scripture, and celebrated the high holy days in Jerusalem, just like all the others. But I can admit now, in my old age, that there was no life to my faith. I was just going through the motions. I envied those who had been given a voice, a voice to speak of what our YHWH God had done in their lives, and especially of how they had been touched by Jesus. Yes, their voices rang out, not only to others, but especially to me. Yes, what about me? I had no voice, no stirring of my faith, no reason to speak as a witness to the goodness of God.

It was clear to me that something was wrong, and what was wrong was me. The excitement of new faith, brought about by the ministry of Jesus, was missing in me, as if I had some sort of immunity. I could see in others but could not feel it in myself. It must be my fault, I concluded, something terribly amiss about me.

I prayed about it. For years and years, I prayed, and despite my hope for a change, nothing happened. My gray existence continued on, one lifeless day after another.

But I did not give up. No, for whatever reason, I felt led to keep praying, hoping for a faith that would be alive, with brilliant colors, and with the same vitality that I could see in others.

When it finally happened, it was not with a bolt of lightning. I’ve heard about the Spirit of Christ descending on people with great fervor, and I’ve also heard about worshipers speaking in tongues. None of those experiences came at all close to what happened to me. I’ve learned that we are all different, and that God’s Spirit comes to each of us in our own way.

Pentecost

El Greco, ca. 1600

What I can share with you is that after years of praying, there was a stirring inside of me. As the scripture from Joel says, God was finally pouring out his spirit into me. It wasn’t sudden, but it was definitely noticeable, as if a light inside of me was beginning to glow. My thoughts changed, and scripture seemed to come alive in a way as never before. What’s more, I felt a calling, as if a door was opening to invite me to step inside, without knowing where it might lead. I felt a new energy, as if I were awakening from a deep sleep, producing a thirst that could be quenched only by an image of the face of Christ, looking at me, smiling at me and leading me in a new direction. The fog was lifting!

I suppose none of this makes any sense to you, reading this so far into the future. I hope at least of a little of my experience resonates with you, and what’s more, I also hope that my story gives you some encouragement if you are, like I was, sleepwalking through life.

Because my story is what I had longed for, and what seemed to be missing. At last, God has given me a voice, a voice that must be used to praise and glorify him.

And so, that’s what I do. Even though my story lacks the drama of one who was healed or given sight, I can promise you that nonetheless, my story is authentic and worthy of telling. Yes, I feel so led, unmistakably led, to tell you and anyone else who reads this, that God is good, and that he will open that door for all of us to enter.

In the meantime, my life is much changed. I have an energy for service that I never had before.

And God continues to surprise me with new callings into service that draw on abilities that were hidden in me until now. I can look back over my life and now see God’s hand in experiences that served to prepare me for these new callings. I couldn’t see at the time, but as I said, it’s an advantage of years to be able to look back and see more clearly.

Psalm 139 comes to mind:

O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
    you discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.
You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;   it is so high that I cannot attain it.

For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
    Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.
My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret,
    intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written
    all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed.

So now, in my senior years, I can answer the question that I am again asking you:

“As you live out your senior years, and as you contemplate leaving this life, do you have anything to say to the world? Do you?”

For so long, I had nothing to say to the world. Nothing at all. But now, thanks to the love of our Father God, through his Son, Jesus, I can say that I have been blessed to receive life in abundance. The veil that covered my eyes has been lifted to see his love and to feel his calling to praise him for what he has done in my life.

All along, I have learned, God was shaping me, defining me and really, telling me who I am. I no longer need to search for my own identity. I belong. My prayer for you, as you live out your years, is that God will show you who you truly are and that you will feel his calling to say it to the world, that you will respond in your own unique voice.