I
recently read through the varied notes that fellow students wrote in my high
school yearbooks. Many of the experiences and private jokes to which they referred
I no longer remember. But in most of the scrawled messages one word stuck out –
FUN.
One
jokester wrote, “Don’t be good. Don’t have fun. Worst of luck in college. How’s
that for a change?” But most everybody else reminded me of the FUN times we had
and to have FUN in the future. And as I think about it, things haven’t changed.
To most young people today, having FUN is one of the most important goals in
life. And it was for me, too, back then, along with the pursuit of popularity.
In
1961 when I was 11, the summer before I entered junior high, I went to Bible
camp. There I gave my life to Jesus. I had heard of Him in Sunday school and
memorized Bible verses to get to camp. But it wasn’t until a short, stout,
balding preacher made clear my sinful state and eternal damnation on a stormy
night at camp that I realized I needed Jesus to take my sins away and make me
fit for Heaven. A counselor put her arm around me while I shed tears and bowed
my head and prayed to have my sins forgiven through what Jesus did for me on
the Cross. God never forgot what happened in my heart that night, even though I
did, for a time.
Camp
was fun, and at first I was excited about my newfound faith and tried to
introduce my friends to Jesus. But I soon learned that it wasn’t fun to feel
rejected by my peers because I was “religious,” so I gradually walked away from
my faith and took up the pursuit of popularity and…yes, having fun.
My
superficial world fell apart when my dad took his own life on April 3, 1966. I
was sixteen. The deeper questions of life that I had already begun to consider
suddenly rose up before me like screaming ghosts, and fear became my constant
companion. Nevertheless, a year and a half later I was in college having fun
again, but deep down a void within me grew and threatened to engulf me.
A
year after graduating from college, in the fall of 1972, I finally broke down
mentally. My mind was full of irrational fears and thoughts that made no sense.
I was committed to a mental institution where gradually, through medication,
counseling, a program of activities and, most of all, home visits to my
sister’s house (which included attending church), my mind began to heal.
After
two and a half months in the State Hospital I was released, and my sister and
her husband took me home to stay with them. My sister had committed her life to
Jesus Christ the year before and through the teaching, prayers and kindness of
her church and her example as she lovingly cared for me, my faith in God was
restored. Over the years I have found the answers to the deeper questions of
life in God’s Word and the void that threatened to overwhelm me has been filled
with the love and grace of God. Hopelessness and fear have been replaced with
purpose and joy.
So
now as I read Facebook posts of old high school friends with whom I’m
reconnecting, I am having FUN getting to know them all over again. And I “like” that some of them have the same Friend I do.
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