Going through some old pictures and books the other day, I hadn't realized how long it had been. First the fine covering of dust let me know it had been too long between looks. So after blowing off the dust, I opened up the first book, and noticed the pages were yellowed around the edges, not as I remembered them last time I looked. And they had become brittle, so I had to be careful turning them so I didn't end up with parts tearing off. No need destroying a clue to the mystery if I didn't have to. So turning the pages with more care and concern than I started off with, I found that I studied each page a bit more, that I took more time to read it than just the glances I had planned. And soon found myself embroiled in a story, and my hunt for something to read had ended. Not quite in the way I wanted it to, actually better. For the old pages, combined with the dust, forced me to spend time in a place that I hadn't planned on. But was thankful for.
Later I went digging through some old pictures that somehow never got put into books, but were stored in boxes. Same thing, dust, they were hard, and I had to handle them with care. So I found myself taking time to look at them, and retrace some precious memories that otherwise in my haste would have been glanced over. I was able to remember times, dates, faces, and precious memories, and the five minute look through the box turned into almost an hour of fun. How we had looked so young, were so full of life, had so many dreams, and how the memories of 30 years ago were somehow fresher than what I had for lunch yesterday. I found myself thankful, for both the memories and the years, and also took notice of how the aging process of both the pages of the books, and the photos reflected in my body. We had all gotten older together, the book reminded me of how much smarter I had gotten, the pictures reminded me of how if only I was that smart then, if only then I knew what I do now...Memories will do that to you.
"What would you change in your life if you could?" I have been asked. Usually after I have shared my testimony. My answer has always been, and will always be the same-nothing. For no matter the situation, I am glad to be where I am right now-with God. You see the book I picked up was an early Bible of mine. A book that no matter how hard I had partied that night, I tried to read a book of the Bible before going to sleep-or passing out. Can't say how much I remember, the fact that the word never returns void is proof enough that I remember at all. But this soft covered, Living Bible, was my insight to God. It was my friend. And treasure. And I had read it so much, that most of Genesis, and parts of the pages of Revelation were missing. Worn off. It reminded me that Christianity wasn't for sissies, and that it took a tough man, with a huge heart, to die for us, while we were still sinners. Who on that Good Friday were still mocking and taunting him. And how some still do today. It took me to Jesus. My early Bible showed me that a Bible that is worn out reflects a life that isn't. And how one verse is worth a thousand memories.
But the photos. They made me shiver while remembering of when I was baptized in a mountain stream, at 8900' at El Porvenir. Where along with other young Christians who had just come to Jesus were dipped in the cold stream that May. And how the before and after pictures reflect a different countenance-showing the world the difference Jesus made in my life. The outward evidence of an inward change. How I had to be talked into it, actually encouraged by my brothers, because I didn't want religion, and didn't understand. How love the night before showed me why, and then how I couldn't wait. Not a ceremonial baptism like infants, that's religion, but a testimony to all who would see or hear, that I had given my life to Jesus Christ. With my friend Brett, celebrating in the background. Who we didn't know would be home and celebrating in heaven in just a few years from a motorcycle accident. My friend that day and always. Where one picture was worth a thousand memories. More than words...
Take the time to stop and reflect on the blessings God has provided over the years for you. Share them with others. Encourage them to trust God. We tend to share all the good times first, but like I found that day, it is in the tough times that the best memories are made. When I was weakest, He was strongest. And how we now look forward to heaven with a new excitement each morning. But as long as we are still here on earth, God has plans for us. So get into the word. The gospel means good news. Carry a camera. God has precious memories for you today that you don't know about. Spend time with Jesus. For just one day in His house, is better than thousands elsewhere.
Turn the pages slowly, and handle the photos with care. They are that special. Just like God made them, and just like He made you. You don't want to miss a thing. Plan today to spend time with someone you hadn't planned on spending time with-let that person be Jesus. For the best is yet to come. Roll film.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot