Irene, 2 — Me, 0

Irene, 2—Me, 0 (1,253)

August 29th, 2011

Eastern Pennsylvania—it is where I have perched myself for the time being, traveling, writing and sharing with the citizenry. The folks who live here are delightful, if a bit stoic, though certainly able to be disconcerted if you pronounce “Amish” with a hard “a.” So you can imagine that it became particularly frightening to these Quaker ancestors when, within seven days, the earth did quake and the sea belched forth its venom.

Yes, in the tradition of Paul Revere—“one by land and two by sea.”

Honestly, the earthquake didn’t move me much—literally. And Irene, the Hurricane, was really just a lot of gray sky and rain. But not so with the populace.

So let me continue my story by telling you that ten days ago, a dear young friend of ours from Nashville, Tennessee, contacted us by phone, telling us that a check had arrived at our old mailbox and she wondered what to do with it. I had no idea what the source of this money way, but as she talked to me I realized that it was an old account I had forgotten, which had been liquidated and sent our way on March 13th of this year. I still do not know where the check had been all these months, but this dear lady had discovered it and wondered what to do with it. I was overjoyed. For you see, extra money afforded to a traveling artist may be the true definition of the “pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.” So I gave her our address and didn’t think much more about it.

Meanwhile, back to Irene.

We had three shows scheduled for Sunday—two in Tannersville and one in Berwick. Much to my delight, the Tannersville church did decide to hold services, which was really nice—except for the fact that almost the entire congregation selected to stay home in deference to the pending doom attacking from the ocean. Yes, it was the smallest crowd I have ever performed in front of on a Sunday morning.

So Irene scored her first point against me.

Candidly, the folks who did show up were also a bit preoccupied by the storminess around them, but to their credit, they escaped the drippiness of their attitudes and the weather outside and became enlivened with Spirit. I enjoyed them thoroughly.

Now the Sunday night booking was a different story. Arriving in Berwick, having driven through the dreary and the drizzle, we discovered that this particular church had canceled their morning services and the dear pastor feared that no one was going to show up for the evening concert.

The storm had truly passed, but, as is often the case in the mindset of the human race, the trauma that follows is always much worse than the actual event. So we did something that we have never done before—we decided, along with the pastor, to cancel the appearance (what you might truly call a disappearance.)

Irene scored her second point.

So the score update was Irene, 2 and me—seemingly—0.

I was driving back to my lodging from the Berwick abandonment when it suddenly occurred to me that some ten days earlier money had arrived into my life that I was completely unaware had existed. Yes, that dear girl had sent me a check two days earlier, which not only covered the financial need of our weekly budget, but also gave us a sweet little nest egg to sit upon.

Is it possible that God knew back on March 13th that we would need finance at this exact hour for this specific purpose—to cover a need not of our making? Mind boggling, don’t you think?

I guess that’s what they mean by omniscient. It doesn’t mean God uses His all-knowing power most of the time. I believe He’s a gentleman and chooses to walk this earthly experience with us instead of running ahead removing obstacles and constructing road signs. But every once in a while, He chooses to step into the role of Father instead of just Creator, and extends His grace, changing the outcome to benefit his children.

So I sit here this morning, having easily survived both quaking earth and stirring sea, enriched by meeting beautiful people in Tannersville and coming into the acquaintance of one fine lady in Berwick—and also having no need to worry about my daily bread.

Because God baked it months ago.

I like this. May I point out to you that I never take it for granted—matter of fact, I am reluctant to even speak of God’s grace for fear that it might disappear like dew in the morning sun. But when do you experience the massive intelligence of the universe at work in your own puny surroundings, it is only righteous to blow the trumpet in Zion.

So I guess I will have to revise my title. It should read: Irene, 2—Me, 0—God, 3. You see, it is the personification of:

His grace is sufficient for me.