Good or Bad News?

I’m writing from a position of extreme ignorance – I only know what I heard on a TV newscast.

According to the news clip, Mother Theresa was not sustained in her ministry to the poorest of the poor by a warm, comforting relationship with her Lord. In fact, she wrote to a friend saying she was not sure she had any faith at all. And had not been sure for a long time.

.The guy on the television said this revelation might change the way we thought about Mother Teresa. He said it with a studiously neutral voice. I have no idea whether he thinks we will think better or worse of her.

But I don’t really care what he thinks. And it doesn’t really matter what I think about it unless it affects the way I live when I can’t feel my faith.

Perhaps she did not feel it, but she lived it anyway.

This morning I came across something I wrote 20 years ago. I wrote it after a time of dryness and lack of any feeling of contact with the Lord. I’m not comparing my life to hers, my brief dark trying of my soul to her long painful years. I wouldn’t dare.

But perhaps your lives are more like mine than they are like hers, so maybe this will speak to you, too.

This is what I wrote;

I had some good news and some bad news last week.

The good news was a note from Reader’s Digest saying it was thinking about running an anecdote I submitted – maybe three years ago!

The bad news was that my air conditioner had to be replaced.

The wires melted. And for a time it appeared that the damage might be even more extensive.

After calling the air conditioning repairman – and making the decision to replace the central unit – I opened windows, turned on a floor fan in my bedroom and went to sleep.

Sometime in the night I woke to the sound of rushing wind. For a moment I thought it was beginning to rain and prepared to hop up and close the windows. Then I realized it was just the fan – just the fan acting very strange.

It would slow down, come almost to a stop, then start again with a rush.

As the fan stopped entirely, I glanced at the digital clock by my bed to see if it was still working. Its dark face confirmed that the problem was electrical.

My next thought was that bad wiring must have burned up the air conditioner and was now about to burn up everything in the house – if not the house itself.

I turned off the fan and checked the house to see what else was or was not working.

The refrigerator was acting just like the fan. The sound of the starter motor grinding away conjured visions of more melted wires -- which sped me on my way to the circuit box to flip a breaker or two.

With half the house shut down, I went back to bed, but I must confess, not back to sleep.

The electrician, when he came, said a “bad” wire at the meter box was the culprit. He replaced it, checked the circuit box, charged me a very reasonable fee and left.

A new three-ton air conditioner is expensive, but it could have been much worse.

The amazing thing about both the good news and the bad was that neither disturbed a deep, joyous peace I felt within. That peace had been mine ever since I confessed my rebelliousness and anger to my Lord in the presence of a friend and she prayed for me that I would be able to delight in all he had for me.

If that notice from Reader’s Digest had come before I asked him to deal with my jealousy and selfish ambition, it would have been fuel to that fire within. But coming as it did after that confession, I was able simply to delight in the possibility that they might print something I wrote.

And I was wakeful the night the electrical wiring in my house acted up in case something else might go wrong, but deep down inside, I was still happy. When someone asked later how I was doing, I said, “Great!” and meant it. I could not have done that without God’s peace in my heart.

Surrender and obedience sound like such grim things to do. But when that surrender and obedience is to the Lord, this is not true. Then it is the beginning of something wonderful and the fruit is that peace which passes understanding and joy beyond measure.