My Memorial

“So these stones shall become a memorial to the sons of Israel forever.” (Joshua 4:7, NASB)

In this passage, the children of Israel have just crossed over the Jordan River’s dry bed as the priests held the Ark of the Covenant in the midst of the river’s passageway. Twelve men had been called back to pick up twelve stones from the channel; upon Joshua’s instructions, a memorial was erected. Literally, it was a huge pile of rocks. This marker would stir to remembrance not only the mighty acts and mercy Yahweh had extended, but also Israel’s obligation to Him. We, in our twenty-first century Western viewpoint, question the relevance of a rock pile, but to the people of the Middle East, this was – and many times is – a time honored method of commemorating events.

In looking through a friend’s pictures yesterday, I kept thinking the location seemed familiar. I knew this river; I knew the rocks this friend was photographed on. I knew I had spent a great deal of time in this area, but just couldn’t place it. After all, I’ve hung out at one or two rivers. Finally, a picture of a building popped up and I knew right away where this was! From the ages of around ten to eighteen, I spent weeks of camp, overnight retreats, and grounds maintenance here. Now known as Gasper River Retreat Center, it is my spiritual birthplace. Despite the passing of years, I still recall the location and moment I accepted Christ as my Savior. On a side note, the location, years earlier, was the place I may have turned a high pressure water hose on a particularly annoying campmate as he exited the shower room.

Just as the Israelites constructed cairns, or huge piles of stones, to remember an event, this porch corner was to me a landmark. Looking back over the last fifteen years, I found many areas I’m not happy with. Despite having graduated Baptist Bible College, I’m not serving a church in a full-time capacity. It isn’t that I’m not open to that avenue; I’ve made many contacts, met several pastors, etc. It’s more that God hasn’t chosen to lead me down that road just yet. Not a day goes by that I don’t have to remind myself of that. I figure I’ve still got some things He wants me to learn first – like a better understanding of His faithfulness.

Recently, I traveled a journey I never saw myself taking. Put in a position of questioning my faith, I had to determine what I believed. For this I couldn’t read academic articles, books, or even Scripture; I had done that. I knew the subject and had once believed it. I had to decide if I would believe it again or renounce what I had once held dear and risk losing not just the remnants of my faith, but my family as well. No pastor, teacher, friend, not even my wife could help guide me; all anyone could do was stand by and watch as I spiraled downward. At one point, I was beginning to think believers questioning their faith had to be the most miserable group around. There was no light, no glimmer of hope… just the sinking emptiness of fear and primal panic I felt as a small child separated from my parents in a large department store on Christmas Eve.

At the depths of my despair, a man I had attended church with for years, but only spoke to for the first time a few months earlier, was used by God to send a text, “If you need to talk, call me.” As I read Jeremy’s words, my heart recalled Joshua 3:4, “…that you may know the way by which you shall go, for you have not passed this way before.” While an instant renewal didn’t occur, it was a watershed moment in my struggle. Just as the prodigal son coming to his senses in the hog pen, I began to realize what I was about to squander.

It’s been several months now, and, while the circumstances leading to my crisis of faith remain nearly the same, my attitude is different. I recognize this storm as but merely a passing one. I daily give praise for the great blessings God has chosen to bestow on me; the greatest one – outside of salvation – is the loving wife I lay beside each night. Old hymns and new praise songs are seldom far from my lips. Have I done this? No. The Jehovah who showed Himself faithful to Abraham, Moses, John, and countless billions never failed me though I doubted Him. Someday soon I have to go back to my memorial on Jackson Bridge Road.

“Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.” (James 1:17)