In My Opinion
By Lynn Paris

Turning Points

There are times in the life of every believer, times that either build up their faith or cause them to falter. They are turning points, especially for those to whom faith does not come easily. I had come to God out of the investigative, searcher’s mode; I was always searching for something more, and after doing my due diligence—reading everything I could get my hands on concerning the validity of Christianity, the life of Jesus, the authenticity of the Bible—I had come to the intellectual conclusion that if one were to accept a higher power, a Creator, a God able to do immeasurably more than I could ever imagine, then the God of the Judeo-Christian Bible fit the bill. And, if He was an omnipotent, omniscient God, then He would certainly be capable of performing the many miracles ascribed to Him, including parting the Red Sea, the virgin birth and sending to earth (and resurrecting) the Messiah He had promised over and over again in the Old Testament. After all, what’s the point of believing in a lesser God?

But the part about putting all my trust in God and believing that my prayers would be answered was not as easy. I was surrounded by people who believed—seemingly without question—in the incredible power of prayer. To me, it often appeared to be a kind of blind faith. We are told that faith means being sure of what you know and certain of things not seen. Yet I yearned for one little glimpse. I think I needed some evidence that God was listening in order to “seal the deal.”

I remember the first turning point in my early faith journey. I was attending what was only my first or second Bible class, a “care group” where we studied Bible verses and supported each other with concern and kindness.  My husband and I happened to be going through an extremely tough time—after some painful financial reversals —and we were struggling to earn enough money from our small business to pay the rent and eke out the bills each month. This particular month it didn’t look like we were going to make it. Business had been unusually slow, and we needed a windfall to appear magically out of nowhere if we were going to survive the month.

So I was feeling depressed and vulnerable while sitting in class that night, and when prayer request time came around, I opened up. I let it all out in front of these virtual strangers, and I asked them for their prayers. Not only did they pray for me, but on my way out of class the pastor handed me something which had been passed around the circle to him; I later discovered it was $200. It was an anonymous gift; I never did find out who gave so generously to me that night. It was an incredible act of kindness I’ve never forgotten, but it wasn’t going to pay the bills.

A few days later a client called. We’d sent him a proposal months before and had just about forgotten about him. Suddenly, he was ready to start his website. We both went to meet with him, determined to request a 50% deposit on the job up front. Although we didn’t expect to get it, we knew we needed to be bold because of our financial situation. Imagine our surprise, then, when our client said he’d prefer to pay for the whole thing right away, and presented us with a check for the exact amount we needed.

The next time I went to Bible class I brought the check, held it up high and said, “Praise God.” Everyone was thrilled. It seems that no matter how great our faith, we all delight in the answered prayer; we all yearn for the occasional “evidence of things not seen.”

Since then I have experienced what I am certain are answered prayers many times. Of course, my secular friends prefer to call them amazing coincidences, or just the result of my hard work or good fortune. But it’s strange; those kinds of things never seemed to happen to me before. I would never be so arrogant as to declare them wrong; it’s just that I believe that putting my life in God’s hands has worked miracles for me.

Recently my son went through an extremely difficult life experience. In fact, everything he’d worked so hard for was in jeopardy, and his prospects for the future looked dreadfully grim. In my heart I knew he’d hit bottom, and I was sure he needed God in his life. Being a skeptic, he didn’t necessarily agree, but circumstances eventually conspired to bring him (albeit reluctantly) to his knees.

There were three critical things that had to happen if he was to get back on track, none of which seemed at all likely. But I believed in my heart that if God allowed them to happen, my son might feel the power of God working in his life and draw closer to Him. So I began to pray, more boldly and with more tenacity than ever before. I was asking God to perform miracles, really, but I knew He was more than able. The question was, as it is always, was what I prayed for consistent with God’s will?

Apparently it was. The good news is that each of the things I prayed for happened and I feel immensely grateful, humbled by God’s grace. The not so good news is that I’m not sure my son has made the connection. I’m not sure he realizes that this is his turning point: his chance to grow in faith or falter. I pray that he chooses well.

Because it was my son who first informed me of the tragic and untimely death of Tim Russert, I’d like to close by commenting on the coverage of his passing. Never before can I remember hearing such accolades paid a man, certainly not one in the news arena where accolades tend to center on achievement and success. And yes, Tim was acknowledged as perhaps the most successful TV newsman of them all.

But I was struck more by the fact that so many, from all sides of the political spectrum, paid such unabashed tribute to Tim as a man: as a good and loving son, husband, father and friend. And on all the shows I watched, network and cable, Tim’s deep and unwavering faith was acknowledged as the underpinning for all he had accomplished, and all that he was as a man: loving, compassionate, respectful, moral, dedicated to the truth, concerned for his fellow man, always of service.

Send me your opinions at LParis@netlistings.com