Like the often oblivious little boy on the tv series, “Lost in Space,” I needed someone to yell at me, “Danger, Will Robinson,” because I was blindly going through life thinking I was either doing fine or worrying whether I would be fine, but clueless that I was treading water in a limitless ocean of certain death. I had no realization of the utter meaninglessness of my life until I tasted meaning. I didn’t realize that without a submissive relationship to the One who made me my life did not make sense. And I did not understand, though somehow I felt it, that there was a price to pay for trying to run my life without Him. I was ungrateful and unwilling to yield my life to Him until one day when through another’s story of rescue, I realized my need.
I was only sixteen years old, but when I asked Jesus to forgive me, something deep, and beyond my sixteen years of maturation to come up with on my own, was birthed in me. A sense of something real and yet unexplainable had happened inside me and I was changed forever. A sudden craving for knowledge of God led me to explore, or try to explore, I should say, the Bible. Much more filling was the teaching of the Bible by others more experienced in the faith. I couldn’t get enough. And as I began to build some categories for putting together the diverse stories, letters and histories of the Bible, I began to make some headway in knowing how to interpret it for myself.
So thanks, Jesus, for being like that robot who was always telling Will Robinson when danger was near. I was definitely lost in space. Thanks for opening my mind to receive the warning. Thanks for caring enough not to give up when I didn’t respond at first. And thanks for forgiving me and coming into my life in such dramatic fashion.