Uncertain Times...

I know you've all heard it before, but it's true we live in uncertain times. I was up pretty late last night reading in a book my Mom gave me. It's a fiction novel, the second in a series of five.

Something tragic occurs in the beginning of the book and it truly broke my heart, causing me to weep. First of all, I can hear what you're thinking. Yeah, I know it's just a book, but it connected me to a personal account. Second, it really wasn't just crying, but weeping.

A lot of you probably spent yesterday remembering five years ago. I bet you told your story at least once about where you were when you first heard. Will you let me tell you about 14 years ago? On this same date in 1992?

I'm not sure I know how to start the story since there is so much to tell to bring you up to speed before that moment.

It was sometime in February, 1991, and for the past two years I had been struggling with feelings, depression, and the great "Who am I?" search of all teenagers. I even had several moments throughout this time of wanting to end my life.

Enter John Campbell. He was one of my good friends. He was a year older than me, but he was always willing to help me with the girls. I can't even count the number of times he helped. I was having one of those down days. I wanted to make sure and say goodbye to him and to let him know I'd miss him. He didn't react the way I wanted him to. He asked me if I was serious. I told him that I was and told him I even had a plan to do it. We continued through the class and then as I was heading out he asked me to promise him I wouldn't do anything. I told him I couldn't and left.

Later that afternoon, I was called into a counselor's office. John just couldn't let it go and made sure he told someone. I told the lady what she wanted to know, but still planned on carrying it out when I got home. She walked me to the bus and as I headed home, I thought about what John said and what the counselor had said. I decided to complete what I knew I needed to do.

I got off the bus and walked down the street. I used my key to enter and walked to the kitchen. What I saw surprised me. There was my Mom crying. I asked her what she was doing home. She told me she had received a call from the counselor.

John made sure that I wouldn't do it. He was only a sophomore in High School and yet he took the time to care about someone other than himself. He was used by God so that I can sit here today, 15 years later, and share with you.

Fast forward now to September 11, 1992. It's my sixteenth birthday party and I have quite a few of my friends over. Everyone but John. I had done something to lose his trust. I had deceived him. It got late that night and I was babbling to a mutual friend of mine and John's. I told him that I had seen John at school with other girls even though I hadn't. He had been trying to date my next door neighbor and the friendship they had made me a little jealous. So I told a lie.

The next day, John calls me and asks me what I was doing spreading rumors. I responded that I only tell the truth and know what I saw. He was furious and hung up the phone. Five minutes later, the samel friend called me. He asked me the same questions and I told him the same thing. John then came on the phone (he used party line calling all the time) and accused me of lying and told me he didn't understand why I would do this. We did a little yelling and then I slammed the phone down. I was sad and depressed and I decided to lay down. It was five in the evening. I woke up around eight because I was told I had a phone call.

It was our mutual friend again. He told me that he had terrible news. He told me that John had been in a car accident with some other friends and that he may have died. I grew angry and told him to quit playing such a cruel joke. I seriously thought that John was on the other line and they were trying to guilt me into confessing that I was lying. He assured me it was true. I hung up the phone telling him I would verify it myself.

I called up John's house. I asked for him and I was told that he wasn't there and that he had been in a car accident. It was his aunt on the phone. I hung up shocked. This couldn't be happening. I called back my friend and apologized. I told him goodbye and laid down the phone.

The days following that tragic accident were terribly hard for me. I felt so guilty. I learned the time of the accident was thirty minutes after we had spoken on the phone. No one knew really what had happened, but I knew. I figured he had been so mad that he wasn't able to pay attention to how he was driving. I had decided that it was my fault.

You know, I hung on to that for a lot of years. It wasn't until I had a friend in college take the time to show me how wrong I was and how there was someone who loved me no matter what I did. He shared with me that everyone matters to Jesus Christ and that I need to stop blaming myself.

I wonder if there is a wife or husband today that looks back that five years ago and blames themselves for what happened. We all know that it was a terrorist attack, but maybe there's something that they forgot to say or do before their loved one left. Is it possible there was an argument? I wonder if there is a parent who regrets certain circumstances and words shared the night before with their son or daughter. What about you?

Jesus Christ is the answer. Do you believe that? Do you know that? His ministry was all about reconcilitation.

Who do you need to call today? Write? Take the time now to do this. It may be the best thing you've ever done.

The love of God is greater far than tongue or pen can ever tell,
It goes beyond the highest star and reaches to the lowest hell
The guilty pair, bowed down with care, God gave His Son to win:
His erring child He reconciled and pardoned from His sin.

When years of time shall pass away and earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
When men, who here refuse to pray, on rock and hills and mountains call,
God's love so sure shall still endure, all measureless and strong:
Redeeming grace to Adam's race--the saints' and angels song.

O love of God, how rich and pure! How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure--the saints' and angels' song.

The Love of God
Words by Frederick Lehman, 1868-1953