I remember the darkest day of my preaching life. And frankly, I don’t want to dwell on it. Still, there may be some benefit in remembering the time when I most needed encouragement and remembering the fact that I got through it, through no fault of my own, except that I put my trust in the only place left…my Friend Who laid down His life for me.
Without revealing too much, let me just say that I had never in my life seen Christians attack one another the way I did that day. I was one of those attacked, but that didn’t happen until I tried to interject some calm reasoning into what I perceived to be a situation getting out of control. I loved them and hurt for them and tried my best to help ease the pain and bring Christian brethren closer to God. What I accomplished was to merely refocus the attack on myself. I understand the noble concept of self-sacrifice and in some situations, would gladly offer myself, but that was not my intention that day.
All of us have been in frustrating situations. I had been before that day, but never had I been so shocked by the behavior of men who called themselves Christians. Nor have I since, “by the help of the good Lord” (as my dear departed friend brother Aubrey Chalmers used to say). For the first (and only) time in my preaching career, when Sunday morning came around, I wanted to find a hole, climb in, and pull it in after myself. I didn’t want to go to church. I didn’t want to preach. How could I? How could I stand in front of those same people? Every ounce of credibility I thought I had before had been destroyed, it seemed to me. Honestly, the only reason I went to church that day and preached the sermon I had prepared before this incident took place was because I couldn’t think of a way not to, and believe me, I tried to think of one. It was not courage that took me to church that day. It was surrender. I had reached the end of my ability to handle the situation. I was out of answers. The only thing I could do was place myself in the hands of God, take a deep breath, and preach.
Some might ask why I would described such a painful episode in my life in an article that is supposed to be about encouragement. Well, I’ll tell you! It’s hard for me to imagine that any one of you has been through anything as bad as my worst nightmare. But by the same token, you probably don’t think mine is as bad as your worst experience. Regardless of whether or not you or I have suffered as much as the other, God takes care of us. I am so very glad verses like Psalm 139:11, 12 are in my Bible: “If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will overwhelm me, and the light around me will be night,’ even the darkness is not dark to You, and the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You.” God saw me in my darkest hour. When I had no more answers, He was just starting. He was in control all along. He was faithful not to allow me to endure more temptation than I was able to endure (1 Corinthians 10:13). You had better believe that I was tempted to cut and run! I don’t mean move to another congregation; I mean cut and run that day. But I didn’t. I dejectedly surrendered myself to the will of God and preached the Gospel. As it turns out, that was just what I was supposed to do.
I still, from time to time, get myself in trouble. Sometimes (usually, it seems) it’s my own fault; other times it’s not. In any case, my Heavenly Father is always there for me. There is nowhere I can go where He is not. “You have enclosed me behind and before, and laid Your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is too high, I cannot attain to it” (Psalm 139:5, 6).
Do you ever find yourself facing a situation you simply cannot see how to overcome? There is just no way out! You cannot go forward; you cannot go back. There is just no hope of winning this one. Thanks be to God, there is a way out! It won’t look like a way out, perhaps, but God’s way is a way out. School yourself to remember Psalm 139. Train yourself to look for God’s way out. Know that God is with you and will not forsake you. He loves you and so do I.
Donnie Bates