“What’s that, Dad?”
“What’s what, son?”
“What’s that in your hand?”
“Haven’t you seen a pen before?”
“Sure I have, but I’ve never seen you with one before. You’re usually on the laptop or on your phone. What’s with this new fangled device you’re using with this piece of paper.”
“Ha, ha ha. Very funny, son. I was around before laptops became a thing for me.”
“Oh yeah, Dad. You’ve been around since the prehistoric times!”
“Be careful with the wit, son. I’m not that old …”
“…Yet.”
“Ha! Yes – yet.”
“Seriously, though Dad. I’ve not seen you with the pen and paper before. What’s inspired this? What are you doing?”
“Son. This is a big day for me. Today I remember where I was 25 years ago. I remember I was at one of the lowest points in my life. I was lost. So many people telling me who I should be and what I should do. So many pressures from outside and so much conflict within me.”
“Really, Dad?”
“Yes, son. To be honest with you I was such a mess in my head and I needed so much help to just make it through the day sane.”
“You’ve not shared this before, Dad.”
“Maybe it’s about time.”
“Go on, Dad.”
“Lost, confused, messed up and jumping from trend to trend looking to fit in and belong and finding emptiness instead. I remember where I was 25 years ago, son. In my room, on my own, feeling like no one understood and no cared to understand. Feeling useless. Feeling worthless.”
“Oh Dad, I never knew.”
“That’s because I didn’t tell you, son. Even though that experience was one of the most critical of my life.”
“Carry on.”
“My parents had brought me up to believe in prayer and to be honest I’d never given it a serious effort for myself. I just did all the routine prepared prayers some f which I memorised, but nothing personal. Nothing from my heart. Nothing from me. Not until that day.”
“What happened?”
“Son, I was in that room sitting at the desk with my head in my hands sobbing uncontrollably. I mean crying like I’ve never cried before. Too afraid to die by my own hands and yet too low to feel any point in living. And in my despair I just cried out to God that if He was real and all of this about Jesus coming, living and dying and rising again was so that those who believed could also live, then I needed some kind of proof.”
“You what, Dad? You asked God for proof?”
“Yes. Yes I did.”
“Did the heavens open and a booming voice call your name?”
“Heh. Very funny, son. Not at all. I cried on and on. Flung myself on the bed and somehow I ended slipping off to sleep. I don’t usually have dreams, but I recall one I had where I was faced with this amazing light and a very soft voice simply asked me, ‘Who is the pen and who is the author?'”
“For real?”
“That’s as true as you and I are talking right now son. That’s what the voice said and then the voice said, ‘When you remember who the pen is and who the author is, then you can experience a different story written as your life.'”
“How do you remember all that?”
“I remember partly because an occasion like that is etched in the memory. And I also remember because one of the first things I did when I woke up was go back to the desk get a pen and a piece of paper and write out the dream. And as I wrote it, son, something occurred in me. A recollection of a verse in the scripture.”
“Which one, Dad?”
“The verse went something like, ‘He is the author and finisher of our faith.’ I looked up where that was and read about faith there. I read a bit more about Jesus for myself. And although there was no dramatic transformation overnight. At that point, son, I said to God that He is the author and I am the pen. As I said that, there was a hint of peace that I had not experienced to that point. As I gave up being the author and let Him be the writer, I discovered a love for words I had never had before. As I surrendered to Him, so over the years I discovered purpose in being a pen to write the wonderful words of life that comes from Him.”
“Wow Dad. That explain so much.”
“Yeah. That’s why today is so important and that’s why this pen and paper business is important. Important for me to remember however much I use the laptop and whatever, that it all springs from this acknowledgement that without Him there are no words and there is no life. And with Him I flow freely in His words – beautiful words, wonderful words, truly wonderful words of life.”
“Oh Dad. That’s amazing. Do you think that could work for me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well ….”
(Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash)
For His Name’s Sake
Shalom
C. L. J. Dryden
Life With CD 