Answering God's Ad

     None of us are ready when God calls. Without exception, we’re not ready. And without exception, He knows we’re not ready.

 

     It’s a scary thing to be Called of God. It’s too easy to say, “I’m not ready. Surely you’ve made a mistake”.

 

     We’re walking down the proverbial path, and just as we come to a fork in the road, A Voice thunders (or whispers) from heaven. “I’d like you to take this dirt road. Leave the hard path”, or something similar.

 

    It’s happened throughout history. It happens to Dreamers. Again and again. And not without fear, and not without trepidation, we hesitate and follow the narrow and winding pathway before us.

 

    None of us are ready when God calls. We aren’t able, we aren’t excellent, we aren’t prepared to fulfill the simplest of tasks. Joseph, The Dreamer wasn’t ready. David certainly wasn’t ready. Peter was an Absolute Mess.

 

     Read any want ad. “Publishing Assistant needed. Five years experience required” or “Mental Health Counselor needed. Must have Masters Degree from accredited university. Must have significant experience in clinical atmosphere”. Call it strange. Call it odd, but God doesn’t work that way. He calls us when we’re not ready.

 

    Walt Disney was fired from a local newspaper. His boss told him he didn’t have any good ideas; that he wasn’t innovative enough! Michael Jordan was booted off his 10^th grade basketball team. He just didn’t have enough talent! Winston Churchill was 62 before taking office as Prime Minister of Great Britain. And with each of these excellent men, we know the rest of the story!

 

    I think our Lord is more interested in Willingness than Readiness.

 

    My friend of mine ran a short film in a recovery group recently. It seems “Jim” and “Joan” were the proud parents of a baby boy. Almost immediately the doctors realized something was wrong. The little lad exhibited features of a rare debilitating disease, and as time progressed, “Jimmy” deteriorated. The parents weren’t given much hope, and clinicians predicted that the little boy would do little more than vegetate.
 

     Well, that just wasn’t good enough for Jim, and he began to work with his child, to tutor him, to take up copious amounts of time with him. And… the impossible happened. Jimmy learned. As a matter of fact, he managed to graduate from high school! And, who could predict, he enrolled in a bachelors degree program and was awarded his “sheepskin” four years later!

 

     But then the “impossible” finally caught up with him. Jimmy Jr. was watching television one day and “ran across” The Iron Man Contest, a grueling athletic event, held in Hawaii each year. As a matter of fact, this is the most grueling athletic event held in the world today.

 

    Each participant must swim two miles, bike 100 miles and run 26 miles! As the event progressed, Jimmy’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. Druel dribbled out of his mouth, and his thin little arms “spassed” uncontrollably. In hard to distinguish words, he told his Dad, “Dad, I yam goying to wun in tat contaste”.

 

     Now his Dad’s mouth dropped open! He had always encouraged his son to excel, but now this. He didn’t have a ready answer, but didn’t immediately deter his son from thinking such things. How could he? They had gone too far together to give up easily.

 

      Suddenly, Jim had an idea; an anointed idea, a dream just as “God-breathed” as any dream any biblical character ever dreamed! Why not attempt something never attempted in an Iron Man race? He would pull his son, peddle his son and push his son to victory. Now that was A Dream. I would have loved to have been there when he revealed his plan to his son.

 

      Jim, in his early forties, wrote a letter to the Rules Committee, and was reluctantly given approval to attempt, what to some was a foolish and impossible stunt. That was the easy part. Day after day Jimmy’s father swam, biked and ran relentlessly. Eventually he began to practice the “impossible” race with his boy.

 

       The duo booked passage on an airliner and landed in Hawaii. Spirits were high and they determined that they were as ready as they’d ever be. The day dawned clear and hot, and father and son bolted as the starter pistol was fired.

 

      We see the muscular man as he swims against the current. Stroke after stroke and he makes his way forward, a whitecap occasionally slowing his efforts. “Little Jimmy” is just behind his father… laying in a rubber raft, a rope connecting them to one another. After what is the longest two miles of the old man’s life, he wades out of the water with Jimmy in tow. The other swimmers are long since peddling their “centurion ride”.

 

      Jim hurries out of the surf, his son in his arms, and jogs to a specially designed bicycle. For stationed behind the bike is a little two-wheeled cart. The father lovingly puts his living treasure into the cart and begins the 100 mile torture test. Up hill and down hill they go. At times Jim is tempted to quit, but he remembers his promise to Jimmy Jr. Quitting was never an option.

    

     Finally they cross the second finish line. But… one more test to come. The Marathon lies before them. Again the father arranges his human cargo in a specially designed two-wheeler. Off they go, the tired, but very muscular man pulling a funny little cart with a funny little fellow inside. Jimmy smiles a broad smile. His dad won’t let him down. Granted, most contestants finished the Iron Man hours before, and they’re just beginning the third leg of the race.

 

    Jim arms and legs had long since grown numb with excruciating pain. At times his gait slowed to a walk, and Jimmy encouraged him from behind. Sweat dripped down both their faces and their skin had taken on a red sheen.

 

Some thought they should stop. The race clock had expired, and they would not be declared “official” now. But that was way beyond the point. Finish they would. And finish they DID!

 

    Little Jimmy just beamed, as Big Jim struggled across the line, and virtually collapsed. Both men raised their arms in victory and, no doubt, tears flowed down their cheeks. They had done “The Impossible” that day.

 

    Yes, God calls us when we’re not ready. For that is our original premise. I scarcely think that when Jim looked at that precious bundle of joy, a child barely hours old, he envisioned such a Singular Undertaking. I dare say it would have “scarred him to death”! But years and circumstances make all the difference. Time and Situations make all the difference in our lives. They are the catalysts for Change or Decay.

 

     No, we’re not prepared when we are Called. I have witnessed too many immature, unorganized, unprepared Christians. They come into my counseling office with “more problems than you can shake a stick at”. But some are different. You can sense the difference. I can’t absolutely quantify the difference, but it’s there. They’re the Ones I’m always looking for. Just as surely as Jesus went looking for The One Lost Sheep.  

 

    Oh how grateful I am for an opportunity to impact them. Rescue is the easy part. Discipleship takes time and nerves of steel. I’ve found out the hard way. Believe me! But it is worth it. It never ceases to be worth it. I love to watch lead turn to Gold. Sometimes Dreams are caught. Sometimes they’re taught.

 

     No, we’re not ready when we’re Called. But God doesn’t expect us to be ready. He’s not unrealistic about the Kind of Clay he fashions. He has us “pegged” entirely.

 

     It was only yesterday we heard a “meow” at the door, and opened it to find a little lost cat. Now normally I don’t “take up” with cats. Never liked them. But this little soul was different. She’s a Calico with a beautiful bushy tail that she keeps in the Up Position. She weighs all of three pounds.  I couldn’t resist taking her in, especially since right now it’s unusually cold in Central Florida.

 

     Now call me “Strange” or call me “Weird”, but I’ve always fed my small dog with a fork, right out of the can. I guess my unnamed cat is the next candidate for that unusual eating tradition, because she was introduced to the practice immediately. Since we didn’t have any cat food handy, I began to feed the feline dog food.

 

     I have to cut my dog’s food into smaller chucks for Tabby. Her mouth is tiny, and the cuisine often drops to the floor. It takes a lot longer to feed her too. But I’ve found a way to exercise patience, just like I do with my Patients.

 

     Those we mentor, tutor and come along side are like that. They can’t eat as much, and we have to cut their “food” into small chucks. It often takes a long time to feed them and they can make a big mess. But there’s something beautiful about them. There’s something about them that begs to be “taken in”, to be nourished, to be “touched”. And I have a very difficult time turning them away.

 

    Not one of “my disciples” came to me already grown up, already well-informed, already ready for The Call. Most exhibited a Spiritual Deafness that had to be overcome. The Voice had not yet penetrated their souls. But then that’s why they’re referred to as “Disciples”. A disciple is one who submits himself to another in order to receive discipline. The two crucibles of discipline are time and training.

 

 

     No, without exception we are not ready when we’re called. I’m reminded of one of my favorite movies, “Mr. Holland’s Opus”. We see a young high school music teacher working with a particular red-headed clarinetist. The poor girl is terrible, though she had worked at it for three years. Every other note is a squeak. But Mr. Holland sees something in her that is worthy of his time and efforts. He begins to meet with her before school each day, and gives her personal instruction.

 

     Several days go by and everything seems to be for naught. No matter what Mr. Holland does, sour notes proceed from the instrument.

 

The teacher looks at the girl and asks, “Do you practice at home”? and her unexpected reply is “All the time. Constantly”. We see him considering what to do next, and he finally asks, “Sue, what do you like best about yourself”? and she shyly replies, “My hair. My Dad says it reminds him of the sunset”. And suddenly Mr. Holland has an epiphany. “Close your eyes, and play the sunset”. Sue dutifully responds and the instrument emits… Beautiful Music!

   

 

    All Baton Passers are called to be “Mr. Hollands”. There is nothing we can do in this life that is most special or more enduring than to inspire others to dream, to excel, to summon up some invisible talent that lies dormant within them. Nothing has been more exciting or more rewarding to me.

 

    Yes, we are all called Unprepared. And as a Professional Dreamer I have often second guessed myself, and maybe is healthy. So like a young Colonel in the Civil War. Robert Gould Shaw, a 23 year old Union officer, wrote home to his mother… “I fear that when all is said and done that I won’t count for very much”. That’s me sometimes. But even the Seasoned Disciple is vulnerable and, at times, unprepared for The Task. Considering this we must be patient with those we bring along.

 

    Our Lord is always patient with us.

 

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "A Dream Book"