Well I’m 67 years old today and boy do I feel it. It’s been rainy and cold and all my arthritic bones are screaming out at me for abusing them so badly through the years. Like my old black lab Bear I walked slowly and stiff legged when I arose this morning and I could barely walk as I stumbled towards my office to write Words for the Day.
My life reminds me of a fiery meteor streaking through the sky that should already have disappeared into the blackness of the night. By all rights I should’ve been dead long ago.
Consider that I’ve been in 2 head-on collisions and 3 cars that rolled multiple times, (no seatbelt or air bags); I was in 1 motorcycle wreck, (no helmet). I’ve had guns pulled on me numerous times and have actually been shot at three times; I faced two knife wielding nuts who were intent on killing me; I’ve been beaten within an inch of my life twice with broken bones and brain concussions; OD’d twice on drugs and nearly died when my liver quit functioning for several days; I was trampled by 3 horses and knocked unconscious while my wife watched in horror; I was caught in extremely violent storms and my small fishing boat nearly sank thirty miles offshore on three occasions; while hunting in Idaho I slipped in some loose gravel and slid nearly 200 feet down a granite mountain and had I not been able to grab onto a scrawny little tree would have gone over the side of a 2000 foot sheer cliff, I was bitten by two poisonous snakes but saved by heavy boots; oh yeah and I was charged and knocked off my feet by a 300 pound plus wild boar while hunting at night with my young son standing right behind me . . .
Whew! Off the top of my head that is all I can I remember right now, but suffice it to say that it’s truly a wonder that I’m not dead.
All those broken bones, brain concussions, drugs, and craziness that I’ve lived through and yet here I sit still breathing. My father and I were reminiscing the other day while I was visiting him in the hospital and he reminded me that when I was just 16 years old I used to say that I wouldn’t live to see 30 years old and yet I’ve more than doubled that.
There’s an old expression, “living on borrowed time”. Some might apply that adage to me, but I disagree. I’m living on the specific amount of time that God has allotted me. He has kept me alive for His purpose.
I named by autobiography Miracle on Luckie Street because it is a miracle of God that I’m alive. I’ve stared death right in its evil eyes and can honestly say without the slightest hesitation that I don’t fear death in the least and actually look forward to spending eternity in heaven with Jesus Christ and my family and brothers and sisters in Christ.
What gives me cold sweats when reviewing the nuttiness of my life is that I know all too well that in most of those instances where I faced death, had I died, I would have gone directly to hell and there I would have spent eternity suffering and separated from God and all His goodness.
As I look around our nation and the world I see those vast fields of human souls that Christ talked about that need to be harvested before it’s too late. Though I was late coming to my senses, I’m trying my utmost to do my part in being a part of that harvest.
I’ve surrendered my life entirely and am committed to spending whatever time I have left to fulfilling God’s purpose for my life, (the reason He saved me from myself all of those perilous times).
There is a song made famous by Frank Sinatra:
I did it my way.
And now, the end is near
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I’ll say it clear
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain
I’ve lived a life that’s full
I traveled each and every highway
And more, much more than this
I did it my way
Regrets, I’ve had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course
Each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this
I did it my way
Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall
And did it my way
I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried
I’ve had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside
I find it all so amusing to think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way
Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has not
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way
Yes, it was my way
Hmmm . . . My song could have ended like this; (a stubborn man who refused “to kneel”). It was all about me and I had no regrets, remorse, and was devoid of love and feelings for anyone.
Praise God my swan song will end differently than Frank Sinatra’s song. My final curtain lyrics will hopefully end something like this:
Though I was late to the party
God’s gifts were just as hearty
So now as my life disappears,
I’ll enter my peace and shed no more tears
I abandoned MY Way
and did it HIS WAY!
The record shows that He took the blows
And did it the only way
Yes it was His way!
John 4:34
Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work. “Do you not say, ‘There are yet four months, and then comes the harvest’? Behold, I say to you, lift up your eyes and look on the fields, that they are white for harvest. “Already he who reaps is receiving wages and is gathering fruit for life eternal; so that he who sows and he who reaps may rejoice together . . .
November 27, 2013 – Click here to listen