Father Bob White
It was the summer of 1936, the hottest summer on record. Eighteen- year -old Bob White Sr., my dad had hitchhiked to Missouri for the summer to take a job pounding spikes for the railroad.
The great migration of “Okies” from Oklahoma to the promised land of California inspired John Steinbeck’s epic novel, Grapes of Wrath. My dad was having his own “Grapes of Wrath” experience trying to survive the bristering heat of a Missouri summer and trying to stay cool at night sleeping on top a railroad car.
The first day on the job after work an exhausted work crew sat down under the shade of a tree. Beers were passed around. It was then that a town local who was known for being a bit of a bully, especially on the new guys, challenged my dad to a wrestling match.
So, they went at it. The rest of work-crew sat there drinking their beers while egging them on. To the surprise of everyone, including my dad, the match ended in a draw. After that the town bully never hassled my dad again and all went well for the rest of the summer.
When my dad went to college in the fall he somehow felt different. He couldn’t explain it, but others could see it. Maybe it was because he was learning to believe in himself.
It was thirty years later the summer of 1966. Eighteen -year-old Bob White Jr., that’s me, had just showed up for his first day on the job working for Watson Construction. The foreman who was known to be hard on the workers, especially college kids new to the job came up to me.
“You’re the new guy, right?” “Yep”. He throws me a shovel and says, “Start diffing.” “Where?” I ask, “Other there.” he says. “For how long?” He now looks irritated. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell you when.”
That’s when it occurred to me. He’s testing me to see if I got what it takes for the job. So, I started digging, fast and furious. Sure, I wanted the job. But more than that, this one was for pride. At the end of the day the foreman comes back. He looks at the ditch I’ve dug and says, “See you tomorrow.” Ater that the foreman never hassled me again. And all went well for the rest of the summer.
When I went to college in the fall, I somehow felt different. I couldn’t explain it, but others could see it. Maybe it was because I was learning to believe in myself.
Coming to believe in ourselves, it’s a key piece of the puzzle if we’re to develop into the fully alive persons that God created us to be. But there’s a paradox here. If we’re to truly believe in ourselves the only way we can do it is to turn our lives and will over to the care of what twelve steppers call a power greater than our own. For Christin believers that higher power is a loving God who is revealed to us through his Son Jesus the Christ.
Nicodemus had no problem believing in himself. He was well respected as one of the leading Pharisees of his day. But then he met this man named Jesus. Jesus turns Nicodemus’ neatly packaged world upside down. In his heart he now knows that he doesn’t have all the answers the way he once thought he had. Good religion does that. It challenges us out of our status quo business as usual thinking that keeps us locked into control mode.
So, in the cover of night Nicodemus seeks out Jesus, this man whom he is both intrigued by and frightened by. But he goes to Jesus anyway. Something tells him that this man Jesus can offer for his life the meaning and purpose that he is looking for.
That was the night that it happened. Nicodemus gradually comes to believe in Jesus. He realizes that Jesus is the one who can show him the life he was looking for but could never find on his own.
It’s the invitation that Jesus extends to everyone, the life we’re looking for but can’t find on our own. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son that whoever believes in him may not perish but have life eternal.”
