|
Lean Not on Your Own Understanding
Karen Arneson
The cover is red. The leather dried out and frayed around the
edges. The pages have long since pulled away from the binding, which
is held front to back with tape. There are water stains on the inside
cover and red dye has seeped onto the once-white pages. Those pages
were probably meant for notes, but they have been used by long distant
friends and family to inscribe sentiments of love and scriptural
encouragements. Over and over the encouragers chose passages that
admonished the Bible’s young owner to trust in the Lord (Proverbs
3:5-7). Her pastor wanted her to know that: The Lord is good, a
strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in
him (Nahum 1:7) The smiling, dark-haired lady who led her and the
other children in song each Sunday reminded her that: Nay, in all
these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.
For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor
principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,
Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to
separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans
8:37-39).
The red leather Bible was a prize won in a Sunday school contest.
The owner and her best friend dressed alike and were awarded the prize
as "twins." Her name and the date are carefully penned
inside the cover: Karen L. Casey, April
21, 1968. She was excited to win the prize. Shortly after her
tenth birthday the year before, Karen had received the Lord Jesus as
her Savior. It was a brilliant, cold February day. Her Sunday school
teacher had been telling her about Jesus for awhile now. Her pastor
had talked more about "receiving" Jesus during the sermon
that morning. The closing hymn had been Whiter Than Snow. Karen
had been dropped off at her house along with her two younger sisters
by the pastor and his wife. Their parents didn’t go to church with
them. She had walked through the house, coming in the front door and
walking out the back. The message that she’d heard in that closing
song rang in melody in her mind:
Lord Jesus, I long to be perfectly whole;
I want Thee forever to live in my soul;
Break down every idol, cast out every foe;
Now wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.
Whiter than snow, yes, whiter than snow;
Now wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
She sat on the top step of the porch and gazed out across the
pristine white of a new snow. The sun sparkled in the blanket of white
and shone in a brilliant blue sky. Turning her face up to the sun, she
smiled and hummed the song to herself. A feeling of great contentment
came over her and joy seemed to spread from within. The young girl
threw her arms in the air as if to embrace the invisible source of her
joy, "Thank you, Jesus!"
She hugged this newfound peace to herself, unwilling to risk
sharing it with her mother. She had learned early on that the things
that touched her heart the most deeply couldn’t be shared. It wasn’t
safe to share them. Instead, she eagerly looked forward to hearing all
about Jesus and the Bible on Sunday mornings. Sheila, the pastor’s
wife and her Sunday school teacher, had been a drama major at Bob
Jones University. Sheila really knew how to bring the Bible to life!
For awhile Karen grew in her faith. When she won her own copy of
the Bible in the Sunday school contest, she read it every night before
"lights out." The King James Version was sometimes hard for
her to understand, but if she had questions Sheila was willing to
answer them. The parsonage was two houses down the street from Karen’s
house and she was a frequent visitor.
Sometime during her eleventh year, Pastor was diagnosed with
cancer. He was 28 years old. As he grew more and more ill, Karen’s
trips to the parsonage were often stopped at the front door. Pastor
was too ill for visitors and Sheila needed to be with him. Sheila
tried to keep up a good front, but she was worried. Everyone at church
prayed and tried to "have faith" that the Lord would heal
Pastor. Pastor and Sheila were gone a lot – to the hospital, to
other states looking for new and better treatments. They both grew
pale and thin and distant. When he was 29 and Karen was 12, Pastor
died. After the funeral, Sheila and the children moved to Indiana. She
came back once to visit. She hugged Karen and tried to encourage her
to keep living for Jesus. When she left, Karen locked herself in the
bathroom and cried.
A new pastor and his family moved into the parsonage. Karen and her
sisters continued going to church. Her parents had begun to attend as
well. She hoped and prayed that life in the Casey household would
begin to change now that her mother and father were going to church.
They said they believed in Jesus and they smiled a lot around the new
pastor and his wife. They helped out in Awana and sometimes she’d
even see them reading their Bibles. But many Sundays the conversation
over dinner was mean and the words seemed out of sync with the smiles
shared after the sermon. In her heart, Karen felt discouraged and
began to doubt God.
By the time she entered her junior year in high school Karen had
given up on God. She still believed, but she couldn’t understand why
God seemed not to hear her prayers. She felt as if she were the only
one in her home and in her small Sunday school class, besides her
teacher, who wanted to live a Christian life. She was tired and
discouraged and she finally told God, "Forget it. I can’t do
this anymore. Just leave me alone."
That was my testimony from the time I was a teen until I was 37
years old. For more than twenty years I followed my own understanding
and it led me to the pit. As I began thinking about sharing my
testimony on the church’s website, I picked up that old red leather
Bible. It brought back the memories I’ve shared, but it also served
to remind me that even when I couldn’t see it, God never left me and
He always had a plan for me.
It was I who had failed, not God. I choose to lean on my own
understanding rather than trust Him.
Ten years ago, after making a mess of my life, I finally heard the
Savior calling me back to him. He whispered to me through the pages of
Footnotes, the newsletter sent out by Fellowship Church. He
sounded forth from my radio and came to me through long forgotten
memories. The Holy Spirit set up a longing in my heart that I
responded to on Christmas Eve, 1995. I gathered my family and we
attended the Christmas Eve service at Fellowship Church. I almost
cried that morning. I felt that I’d come home.
In the years to follow, I did cry. I cried a lot - tears of regret,
tears of loss, tears that eventually led to my healing. I still cry
easily, but today they are more often than not tears of joy. When I
turned back to the Lord ten years ago, I made a decision. I determined
that I would be honest with Him about my doubts and fears. He taught
me that if I would decide to trust Him anyway, He would prove
faithful. In ten years, He has never failed me and I am learning to
trust Him more and more.
To you, O LORD, I lift up my soul;
in you I trust, O my God.
Do not let me be put to shame
nor let my enemies triumph over me.
No one whose hope is in you
will ever be put to shame,
But they will be put to shame
who are treacherous without excuse.
Show me your ways, O LORD,
teach me your paths;
guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God, my Savior,
and my hope is in you all day long.
Remember, O LORD, your great mercy and love,
for they are from old.
Remember not the sins of my youth
and my rebellious ways;
according to your love remember me,
for you are good, O LORD.
Psalm 25:1-7
| 
