Never Alone

    

Can you recall a defining moment in your life?

Cattle. Cornfields. Rolling hills and gravel roads. These were the backdrop for this farmboy’s formative years. 

Hearing God’s voice was associated with hearing from the adult members of the community. That seemed to be a strong element of faith for the small town I was raised in. I do not recall any emphasis of hearing from the Creator individually, although it may have been present.

Sunday School. I still have images of the many stories of the people of God being led by His voice. Abraham, Samuel, Moses, Daniel, Mary - Then there was Jesus, God Himself living amongst and relating to common everyday people like me. I guess that relational element is what caught my attention as a boy, and later fueled my search for God as a youth.

Culturally, I made myself a target with my lack of hygiene, propensity to lie, and anger issues. In a small class, everyone knows everyone, and the pecking order is very defined. In my class of students, I saw myself as one up from the bottom of the social totem pole. I hated my life. I hated me. I longed for change. 

My non-coveted societal position followed me into my Jr. High years, culminating in a pivotal moment - perhaps THE turning moment of my life.

A large group of us were on a campout at a local State Park. It was a still, frigid October night in Nebraska. The sky was clear. The stars, very bright. The crisp, cold air seemed to intensify the twinkling brightness. 

The smell of harvest was in the air, and the moon lit the path in front of us as our group of nearly 40 moved along through the bright night. 

“Let’s ditch Chris,” someone yelled out, and everyone scattered into the shadows of the trees that cluttered the park.

Normally, I would have given chase. It had become a game of sorts, though “game of survival” was most fitting for me. But that night I decided: I am done running.

Stars, turned fuzzy by the tears in my eyes, filled the beautiful, Autumn night sky.  A tight pain now clenched my throat and heart, threatening to hold my words back. But one escaped in a desperate, tight, raspy cry: “Gohhhd…” 

The prayer itself, as a word, does no justice to the depth of the utterance. For my soul was crying out, “God, if you’re real, I need you now more than ever!  I am alone and I am hurting.”

In that instant (for such things happen in a flash, even though they take up much more space on paper) I heard God:

“I will never leave you.”

These weren't mere words on a page or flannel-graph stories from a loving teacher. They were intimate, resounding in a strangely familiar sound off the walls of the secret place within me, the place where I was first known before even my mother comprehended my existence.

And in that exact, razor-edged moment in time, I knew I was loved and known by My Creator.

You and I are never alone.