An Epiphany
by Lynn Ridenhour
We’re journeymen, all of us. If we belong to God,
we are. Referring to the Old Testament saints, the Hebrew writer said it this
way, "…they seek a country…" (Heb.1:14).
The same can be said of us. We too seek a country where God is not ashamed
to be called our God. "…this world is not our home, we’re just a
passing through…" sang my grandmother as she canned her favorite
peaches. She was right, you know. Each of us is on a personal journey to
glory. And we’re constantly looking for those connections to help get us
through these lowlands.
I call these connections Epiphany experiences. Holy moments. Bethel
moments that forever set our tone and destiny—and cause us to long for home.
All of us should have one. At least one. Abraham had his. Moses and Paul had
theirs. And Mary Magdalene had hers. God stopped each of them in their tracks,
and from that moment on, each was His.
An Epiphany is that moment when God stops you in your tracks. And from that
moment on, you’re His.
I was swinging on the porch one evening with Toni. Toni was an ole high
school sweetheart. The dark was calm, the air was quiet, the squirrels in a
nearby tree were chattering, playing, running up and down the lonely tree—their
tails bobbing back and forth. And the two of us were swinging our legs back
and forth, listening to the night. I had stopped by to see how she was doing.
"Lynn," she said, "you were never the same after you were
burned."
I sensed the frustration and confusion in what she had just said. The two
of us used to double date while we were teenagers with not a care in the
world. Parties. Drive-In movies. Dances. Now we’re in our fifties. Where did
the time go and where did I go? What happened to the Lynn Ridenhour she once
knew? I was once carefree and used to laugh a lot with a nervous giggle. Not
much under the surface. I was only sixteen.
Then I saw God.
