On the Anvil - Max Lucado [15]
“Maybe someone else should do this. I’m too young, too inexperienced.” The winds of discouragement and fear whip at his fire, exhausting what is left of the flame. But the coals remain, hidden and hot.
The hiker, now almost the storm’s victim, looks one last time for the fire. (Is there any greater challenge than that of stirring a spirit while in the clutches of defeat?) Yearning and clawing, the temptation to quit is gradually overcome by the urge to go on. Blowing on the coals, the hiker once again hears the call to the desert. Though faint, the call is clear.
With all the strength he can summon, the hiker rises to his feet, bows his head, and takes his first step into the wind.
Are you huddling down on the road you were called to walk?
When you’re tempted to quit, do you question the call? Do you still hear it? Did it change?
Have you asked God to renew your sense of purpose lately? What is he asking you to do?
26: The Day My Plate Was Broken
It was past midnight in Dalton, Georgia, as I stood in a dimly lit phone booth making a call to my folks. My first summer job away from home wasn’t panning out as it was supposed to. The work was hard. My two best friends had quit and gone back to Texas, and I was bunking in the Salvation Army until I could find an apartment.
For a big, tough nineteen-year-old, I sure felt small.
The voices of my mom and dad had never sounded so sweet. And although I tried to hide it, my loneliness was obvious. I had promised my parents that if they’d let me go, I’d stick it out for the whole summer. But now those three months looked like eternity.
As I explained my plight, I could tell my mom wanted me to come home. But just as she said, “Why don’t you come—” my dad, who was on the extension, interrupted her. “We’d love for you to come back, but we’ve already broken your plate.” (That was west Texas talk for “We love you, Max, but it’s time to grow up.”)
It takes a wise father to know when to push his son out of the nest. It’s painful, but it has to be done. I’ll always be thankful that my dad gave me wings and then made me use them.
What are some of the “nests” we get too comfortable in?
Have you ever had a positive plate-breaking experience like this one?
Do you need one now?
27: Putting Your Beliefs Where Your Heart Is
Take a pen and paper and get alone. Go where it’s quiet, where you can think. Find a place that will offer you an hour’s worth of uninterrupted thinking. Then sit down. Take your pen in your hand and—are you ready?—write down what you believe. Not what you think or hope or speculate but what you believe. Put on paper those bedrock convictions that are worth building a life on, that are worth giving a life for.
For example, here are some not-for-sale, nonnegotiable undeniables that I believe:
There is a God whose all-consuming concern is whether or not I love him.
I have a reason to be alive.
Money is not the answer. Therefore, the abundance or lack of it will not rule me.
I will never die.
My family loves me and I love them.
I will live forever, and heaven is but a wink away.
I control my moods . . . not vice versa.
I can change my world.
The most important element in the world is another human being.
Now look at your list. Analyze it. What do you think? Is your foundation solid enough to stand on? If not, be patient. Give yourself some time to grow.
Don’t throw that list away. Keep it. I’ve got a special assignment for you. Put your list someplace where you’ll always have it. In your wallet, your purse . . . somewhere convenient.
The next time you’re intimidated by Mr. Know-It-All or by Miss Have-It-All, the next time your self-image limps out the door, pull out your list. Take a long look at it. Have any of your undeniables been threatened? Has your foundation been attacked?
Usually not. Here’s the point: If you know what you believe (I mean really know it),