There Really is Help

By: Sylvia Huffnagle (ordained minister)

There Really Is Help

I opened my eyes--groaned because it was morning again--and shut them again. I didn’t even feel like getting out of bed. What for? My life was empty. I was only thirty-five years old, but I felt as though I were fifty. All my life I had tried so hard to be what others said I should be, to do what they said I should do, and to think as they said I should think. But now at only thirty-five years of age, I felt I just couldn’t go any further. I was not what they said I should be--I couldn’t do what they said I should be doing, and I couldn’t apply the positive attitudes to the rotten things that happen the way they kept telling me to. On top of everything else all the stress had caused me to eat in excess and now they were on my back about being overweight. Letting out a long sigh, I resigned myself to my fate--whether I felt like it or not, I had to get up. Though it was Saturday, I had to baby-sit my sister’s kids, go to the store, and then clean up my apartment.

I got through the baby-sitting and headed for the store. I needed a whole grocery order, and knew I should go to the big store, but I just wanted to get back home. After a minute’s deliberation, I decided to just grab a few things at the convenience store.

I was in the third aisle searching for mayonnaise when I heard a dainty, musical chuckle. It was such a pleasant sound that I couldn’t resist looking around for its owner. I heard it again--a tinkling, merry laugh. There she was talking to the cashier. She had a cute face and equally cute curly brown hair. She couldn’t be much over twenty years old--I smirked--she had a lot to learn--see if she sounded so lighthearted when she got to thirty-five.

Ignoring the feeling of envy at her youth and vitality, I cast one more skeptical glance in her direction before going back to searching for my kind of mayonnaise. Settling for a smaller jar than I had had in mind, I was just placing it in the cart as I saw her coming around the end of the aisle. She saw me at the same time and broke out into a wide, beautiful smile. “Hi, beautiful day isn’t it?” I had to look out the large plate-glass window to see if it was--I hadn’t even noticed the weather--or if I had, it hadn’t mattered with all the other stuff cluttering my mind.

Doing my best to make my mouth turn up at the corners, I muttered, “I guess it is.”

Concern flickered across her features--she must have noticed my unhappiness. Her voice became softer and I read caring in her eyes as she said, “You look tired. Has it been a busy day?” Her color heightened. I-I mean . . . it’s none of my business, but can I help in some way?”

Shaking my head, I replied in a dull voice, “I guess I’m tired from baby-sitting my sister’s kids today. No, there’s nothing you can do--life just has a way of disillusioning a person. You know--a big let down.” I gave another wan smile. Her brow creased.

“No, I don’t know what you mean. I mean, I do, because I’ve heard that before, but my life hasn’t been a let down. Of course I have a personal relationship with Jesus and that makes a world of difference.” She smiled brightly, then realizing what she said; her hands flew to her mouth, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t.” Her expression changed to puzzlement. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” I asked, as I started slowly pushing the little cart forward. Without enthusiasm, I explained, “I said, “I have to get going--I have my whole apartment to clean yet today.”

“I’m sorry--I always seem to be holding someone up.” Her expression went from apologetic to serious, as she confessed, “But it’s important to me to know if you know Jesus. I’m not trying to be nosy; I just know he can help you live life to the fullest. He can make it all worthwhile. He can renew your spirit when you get down. He can…” I broke in at that point.

“I really have to go. It’s nice that someone cares, but I’m sure you can’t help me and neither can Jesus.”

I started to leave, but she touched my arm. “How do you know Jesus can’t help you? He is the Son of God, you know.” The words echoed in my head--he is the Son of God, you know. It struck a chord with me--I suddenly wanted to hear more. She must have seen my interest because she became bolder. “My name’s Lynette Corson--Lyn for short. Please let me talk to you more about him,” she coaxed. “Give me an hour. I promise to help you clean your place after that--okay?”

I was stunned. Was this real? No one had ever given me the time of day before. A spark of hope was born. Maybe I should hear her out. The spark flickered and died as quickly as it had ignited. No--there’s no help for me. I let out a sigh. “No, you don’t have to do that. Nothing will help me. I’m a bore, a failure, and overweight to boot.”

Looking appalled, she said, “That settles it. That’s a challenge that I just have to meet. I want to try to help you. Please don’t refuse me. Let me follow you home and tell you what I know about succeeding.” She flashed her big smile and I figured I had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Once at the apartment, she started right in with what she had to say while holding the refrigerator door open for me as I put the lettuce and milk in. “Well, you know, of course, that Jesus came a babe--the Christmas story?” She waited for my response. I nodded and she continued, “And you know the Easter story, about him dying on the cross for our sins and God raising him up again?” I nodded. “Well . . . what was your reaction when you heard that Jesus was born for us and died for us?”

I stared blankly at her. “I don’t know. I never thought about it. That stuff is for religious folks. I never believed in fairy tales and such.” Lyn looked as if I had slapped her. Her shoulders slumped slightly, but only for a second, then she brightened.

“Okay! Now I know where to start. Actually . . ., I should start with finding out your name.” She grinned. I was beginning to like her and even trust her a little.

I returned her smile and replied, “I’m Sally Hendricks. Have a seat,” I waved toward the sofa.

As she situated herself on the sofa, she began to share. I listened intently. In no time she had my rapt attention. She began to explain why Jesus came and what he had done for us--suddenly it all started making sense. She explained step by step how Jesus had fixed everything that got ruined by Adam and Eve’s selfish and foolish choice. She tied it all together--the beginning with Adam and Eve clear through the New Testament. She said it was all about restoring mankind back to a Father/child relationship with God. By the time she asked me if I wanted to ask Jesus to come into my heart and life, I was ready to do it. In fact, I nodded eagerly. Suddenly I had hope--real wonderful hope that maybe I could have a life that mattered. Maybe I could become a success at what I did. Maybe with Jesus’ help I could be strong enough to resist the things that were taking me down. Maybe he could help me make wise choices, and I wouldn’t have to be sorry later as has happened so often.

When she finished praying for me, I felt as if I could walk on air--me, the one who just an hour before couldn’t have been any lower. After the prayer, Lyn stood and I thought she was getting ready to leave, but no she asked me what I wanted her to do--dust, run the sweeper, or clean the bathroom. She was true to her word and didn’t leave until I assured her that everything was finished. Then she gave me a big hug and invited me to visit the church she went to and encouraged me to call her, if I ever felt like talking.

I hope this testimony will encourage people who don’t know Jesus to seek him and will encourage those who do know him to reach out to others as Lyn did--you might make a difference in someone’s life--a big difference.

© Sylvia Huffnagle 1526 words

Article Source: http://www.articles.narrowisthepath.com

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