by Max Lucado
Bill Tucker was sixteen years old when his dad suffered a health crisis and consequently had to leave his business. Even after Mr. Tucker regained his health, the Tucker family struggled financially, barely getting by.
Mr. Tucker, an entrepreneurial sort, came up with an idea. He won the bid to reupholster the chairs at the local movie theater. This stunned his family. He had never stitched a seat. He didn’t even own a sewing apparatus. Still, he found someone to teach him the skill and located an industrial-strength machine. The family scraped together every cent they had to buy it. They drained savings accounts and dug coins out of the sofa. Finally, they had enough.
It was a fine day when Bill road with his dad to pick up the equipment. Bill remembers a jovial, hour-long trip discussing the bright horizons this new opportunity afforded them. They loaded the machine in the back of their truck and secured it right behind the cab. Mr. Tucker then invited his son to drive home. I’ll let Bill tell you what happened next:
“As we were driving along, we were excited, and I, like any sixteen-year-old driver, was probably not paying enough attention to my speed. Just as we were turning on the clover leaf to get on the expressway, I will never ever, ever forget watching that sewing machine, which was already top-heavy, begin to tip. I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. I saw it go over the side. I jumped out and ran around the back of the truck. As I rounded the corner, I saw our hope and our dream lying on its side in pieces. And then I saw my dad just looking. All of his risk and all of his endeavor and all of his struggling and all of his dream, all of his hope to take care of his family was lying there, shattered.”
“You know what comes next don’t you? “Stupid, punk kid driving too fast, not paying attention, ruined the family by taking away our livelihood.” But that’s not what he said. He looked right at me. “Oh, Bill, I am so sorry.” And he walked over, put his arms around me, and said, “Son, this is going to be okay.”
God is whispering the same to you. Those are his arms you feel. Trust him. That is his voice you hear. Believe him. Allow the only decision maker in the universe to comfort you. Life at times appears to fall to pieces, seem irreparable. But it’s going to be okay. How can you know? Because God so loved the world. If God can make a billion galaxies, can’t he make good out of our bad and sense out of our faltering lives? Of course he can. He is God.
From: 3:16, The Numbers of Hope
Copyright (W Publishing Group, 2007) Max Lucado
Used by permission
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