So there he stood in the little dining area of their second-floor apartment. And there she sat in front of her laptop computer set up on their card table/dining room table. He had his arm around her shoulder. He was thinking James 5:19-20. That’s what she did for him. She had her arm around his waist. She was thinking Philippians 3:13-14. That’s what she wanted for him ever since they met two years ago.
So, still with her left arm around him, she used her right hand to type out that scripture. She turned the computer towards him and angled back the screen. He read it silently. Then he looked at her and smiled and said, “I’ve got to go to work pretty soon. What are you doing today?”
“I’m still working on that infrastructure improvement project for TJC.”
“Still?”
“Still. It’s a long-term deal. Some of the systems are getting old. So right now I’m creating a program that will monitor the electricity grid, the chilled water loop, and the hot water loop.”
“You are amazing. I’ve got to get ready for work. I love you.”
He kissed the top of her head and walked down to the bedroom—the only bedroom in their little apartment. As he got ready he looked up at their wedding picture then down at his guitar in the corner which reminded him of the new song he was working on. He hummed the tune as he looked out the window at their view of Albertsons’ roof and Loop 323. Ready to go, he walked back out and saw Lauren had a brown bag lunch ready for him, sitting on the corner of the table. “See you tonight,” she said, “Remember to eat your lunch.”
He had worked at Colby’s Wholesale for just over a year now. He mostly worked the evening shift, in the warehouse, driving the forklift, filling orders, loading trucks. A couple times a week Colby would let him get out of the warehouse and make deliveries to gas stations in Tyler and the rest of East Texas. Usually he drove the same route: Chandler, Brownsboro, Murchison, Athens. But sometimes they put him on the Whitehouse, Troup, Rusk route. He didn’t like those days. He had to take 346 into Whitehouse...
But today he was in the warehouse. It was a quiet day and he chatted with the guys as he worked. It took them a while to accept him after he came back to the Lord. He used to go drinking with them and his language was as filthy as theirs. But after Lauren helped him regain his faith, he wouldn’t hang out with them after work anymore and he cleaned up his dirty mouth. They resented that. Somehow they took it personally. But he was a good worker and a good listener. If they needed help with a project at home, he would bring his tools and pitch in. And they liked to hear him play his guitar on their lunch break.
But today at lunch he didn’t have his guitar. So as they talked about Obama’s healthcare plan and the storm last Tuesday and the Texas Rangers, he got out his brown bag lunch. A big tupperware full of lentils and rice with ham, two bananas, gatorade. And a little folded up piece of paper. Even as he unfolded it, he knew what he would see...
A happy face...the letters S-H-M-I-L-Y...and the scripture “Acts 11:24a.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Marcus and Lauren Redding
There was her text message on his cell phone: 1 John 3:19-20. How many times his wife had reminded him about those two verses, “By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything.” Marcus took a deep breath, looked down at Bruce’s grave, took another deep breath, then turned and walked back to his car.
As he walked back to his car he sent his wife a text message: Proverbs 31:10-11. It was kind of a game for them. Not a fun or funny game, just something they did, sending each other text messages with scriptures for whatever they were doing at the time. How many times he had thought of those verses when he thought about Lauren.
It was about a fifteen minute drive from the cemetery back to their apartment and he didn’t feel like listening to the radio. So he just blasted the air conditioning (it had been 100 degrees during the day for the last 3 weeks!) and thought about Lauren as he drove home. He remembered the first time he saw her. Or at least the first time he saw the top of her head. Behind a computer. In the computer lab at TJC.
He had come in to check his email and sat down toward the back. He heard two girls talking at the front. One girl was talking to Lauren, the teacher assistant in charge of the lab. The girl was a student, complaining that her computer wasn’t working and she desperately needed to turn in a project before 11:00. The poor gal was almost in tears, going on and on about how she’d fail the class if she didn’t turn this in on time. Lauren told the girl to calm down and she would help her. Lauren pulled an empty chair up next to her computer, patted the seat, and said, “Come on, I’ll help you.” For the next 30 minutes she helped the girl finish her project. Marcus never saw Lauren’s face, just heard her kind voice and could barely see the top of her head, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had his attention.
Though some might have considered it a form of stalking, Marcus noticed when Lauren left the computer lab and he nonchalantly followed her from a distance. After weaving through campus, trying not to actually look like a stalker, he noticed Lauren stop and talk to a group of 5 or 6 girls in front of the gym. He sat down on a bench and watched her, and them. One girl had a Bible and read it for a bit. Then all the girls bowed their heads. It looked like they were praying. Then they hugged each other and said goodbye. She walked into the gym. Marcus resolved to “check his email” the next morning at 10:30 in the computer lab.
By now he was back home. He parked the car and walked up the steps to their apartment. He opened the door. There she was at the kitchen table, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, typing on the computer, open Bible lying on the table. He didn’t say anything. Just went over and gave her a hug. “Did you get my text?” She said yes. By now he had tears in his eyes. Not weeping or crying. Just tears in his eyes. He told Lauren, “If it wasn’t for you, I would be lost...in more ways than one.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week...
As he walked back to his car he sent his wife a text message: Proverbs 31:10-11. It was kind of a game for them. Not a fun or funny game, just something they did, sending each other text messages with scriptures for whatever they were doing at the time. How many times he had thought of those verses when he thought about Lauren.
It was about a fifteen minute drive from the cemetery back to their apartment and he didn’t feel like listening to the radio. So he just blasted the air conditioning (it had been 100 degrees during the day for the last 3 weeks!) and thought about Lauren as he drove home. He remembered the first time he saw her. Or at least the first time he saw the top of her head. Behind a computer. In the computer lab at TJC.
He had come in to check his email and sat down toward the back. He heard two girls talking at the front. One girl was talking to Lauren, the teacher assistant in charge of the lab. The girl was a student, complaining that her computer wasn’t working and she desperately needed to turn in a project before 11:00. The poor gal was almost in tears, going on and on about how she’d fail the class if she didn’t turn this in on time. Lauren told the girl to calm down and she would help her. Lauren pulled an empty chair up next to her computer, patted the seat, and said, “Come on, I’ll help you.” For the next 30 minutes she helped the girl finish her project. Marcus never saw Lauren’s face, just heard her kind voice and could barely see the top of her head, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had his attention.
Though some might have considered it a form of stalking, Marcus noticed when Lauren left the computer lab and he nonchalantly followed her from a distance. After weaving through campus, trying not to actually look like a stalker, he noticed Lauren stop and talk to a group of 5 or 6 girls in front of the gym. He sat down on a bench and watched her, and them. One girl had a Bible and read it for a bit. Then all the girls bowed their heads. It looked like they were praying. Then they hugged each other and said goodbye. She walked into the gym. Marcus resolved to “check his email” the next morning at 10:30 in the computer lab.
By now he was back home. He parked the car and walked up the steps to their apartment. He opened the door. There she was at the kitchen table, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, typing on the computer, open Bible lying on the table. He didn’t say anything. Just went over and gave her a hug. “Did you get my text?” She said yes. By now he had tears in his eyes. Not weeping or crying. Just tears in his eyes. He told Lauren, “If it wasn’t for you, I would be lost...in more ways than one.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week...
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Meet Marcus Redding
It had been five years since he passed away. But it seemed like yesterday. That’s what Marcus thought as he stood at his best friend’s grave.
They had just finished their sophomore year of high school. It was three days after school got out and Marcus’s dad took him down to get his license. He passed the test. Making complete stops at stop signs. Signaling plenty in advance. Parallel parking like a champ. He said “Yes, sir” and “No, sir” very politely to the DMV guy behind the counter who issued his license. He marched outside the office with his head held high and showed his dad his new driver’s license. His dad smiled and gave him a high five. And then came “The Talk.” Marcus knew it was coming.
His dad told him how this was another step to becoming a man, how he trusted him to be responsible, how more freedom brings more responsibility, he even quoted statistics about teenagers in car accidents. But his dad said he trusted him. Marcus would have a curfew and he’d have to let his folks know where he was at all times (“That’s why they invented cell phones,” his dad said.) But as long as he checked in with his folks and came home on time, he was free to do what he liked. Then Marcus’s dad prayed for him, right there in the parking lot. Prayed Marcus would be responsible, safe, a good example to his friends as he took this next little step to maturity. Marcus gave his dad a hug and thanked him for trusting him and told him he would not let him down.
The next Wednesday Marcus was anxious to show off his license (and the 1975 El Camino his grandpa gave him) to all the kids in the youth group. After Bible study he invited a few friends to come with him for a ride. The youth minister told them to be careful and check in with their parents first. Turned out only his best friend Bruce could go with him. So they went out for a drive.
Standing at Bruce’s grave five years later, with five years of the grief process behind him, Marcus understood what happened that evening. It was a combination of being sixteen, just getting out of school, his dad’s trust, and a sense of invincibility that made him drive too fast down 346 to Whitehouse. And the sun was setting just low enough that drivers had to shield their eyes and try to stay in their lane while navigating the curvy road. Marcus came around a long turn and the sun hit him in the eyes. As he reached to pull down the sun visor he slipped off the right side of the road, pulled the wheel hard left, and overcorrected. The last thing he heard Bruce say was a quiet and fearful “No.”
The oncoming car in the other lane hit the passenger side of the El Camino head on. Bruce was killed instantly. Marcus, somehow, came away with only a mild concussion, a broken right arm, and a lot of his friend’s blood on his shirt.
The grief and the regret and the self-hatred had settled down in the five years since the accident. But the questions of faith had only intensified. Yes, Bruce was a Christian. Yes, he was saved. Yes, he was in heaven. That was some comfort. But Marcus remembered seeing Bruce’s parents at the funeral...and here at the graveside...and their white handkerchiefs, wet with tears, contrasting with his mom’s black dress and his dad’s black suit.
So Marcus never stopped asking “Why am I still here? Shouldn’t it have been me? It was my fault. Bruce was better than me, he prayed more, he was kind to all the kids at school, from the starting pointguard to the goths who hung out on the corner, he talked about going to Harding someday...”
The ring of his cell phone broke his thoughts. It was a text message. From his wife. She knew where he was. The message just said, “1 John 3:19-20.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
They had just finished their sophomore year of high school. It was three days after school got out and Marcus’s dad took him down to get his license. He passed the test. Making complete stops at stop signs. Signaling plenty in advance. Parallel parking like a champ. He said “Yes, sir” and “No, sir” very politely to the DMV guy behind the counter who issued his license. He marched outside the office with his head held high and showed his dad his new driver’s license. His dad smiled and gave him a high five. And then came “The Talk.” Marcus knew it was coming.
His dad told him how this was another step to becoming a man, how he trusted him to be responsible, how more freedom brings more responsibility, he even quoted statistics about teenagers in car accidents. But his dad said he trusted him. Marcus would have a curfew and he’d have to let his folks know where he was at all times (“That’s why they invented cell phones,” his dad said.) But as long as he checked in with his folks and came home on time, he was free to do what he liked. Then Marcus’s dad prayed for him, right there in the parking lot. Prayed Marcus would be responsible, safe, a good example to his friends as he took this next little step to maturity. Marcus gave his dad a hug and thanked him for trusting him and told him he would not let him down.
The next Wednesday Marcus was anxious to show off his license (and the 1975 El Camino his grandpa gave him) to all the kids in the youth group. After Bible study he invited a few friends to come with him for a ride. The youth minister told them to be careful and check in with their parents first. Turned out only his best friend Bruce could go with him. So they went out for a drive.
Standing at Bruce’s grave five years later, with five years of the grief process behind him, Marcus understood what happened that evening. It was a combination of being sixteen, just getting out of school, his dad’s trust, and a sense of invincibility that made him drive too fast down 346 to Whitehouse. And the sun was setting just low enough that drivers had to shield their eyes and try to stay in their lane while navigating the curvy road. Marcus came around a long turn and the sun hit him in the eyes. As he reached to pull down the sun visor he slipped off the right side of the road, pulled the wheel hard left, and overcorrected. The last thing he heard Bruce say was a quiet and fearful “No.”
The oncoming car in the other lane hit the passenger side of the El Camino head on. Bruce was killed instantly. Marcus, somehow, came away with only a mild concussion, a broken right arm, and a lot of his friend’s blood on his shirt.
The grief and the regret and the self-hatred had settled down in the five years since the accident. But the questions of faith had only intensified. Yes, Bruce was a Christian. Yes, he was saved. Yes, he was in heaven. That was some comfort. But Marcus remembered seeing Bruce’s parents at the funeral...and here at the graveside...and their white handkerchiefs, wet with tears, contrasting with his mom’s black dress and his dad’s black suit.
So Marcus never stopped asking “Why am I still here? Shouldn’t it have been me? It was my fault. Bruce was better than me, he prayed more, he was kind to all the kids at school, from the starting pointguard to the goths who hung out on the corner, he talked about going to Harding someday...”
The ring of his cell phone broke his thoughts. It was a text message. From his wife. She knew where he was. The message just said, “1 John 3:19-20.”
More about Marcus Redding’s journey of faith next week.
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