Remember Who’s in Control!

My son Matt being released from Federal prison. 

I finally decided it’s time for me to write this story. Why not? I’ve been telling it to people for years. It never fails to amaze them and give them hope. So I thought that if I shared it on a larger platform, It might give more people hope which is something that seems to be in short supply right now. 

It’s about one of the lowest points in my life. It’s about the time when my oldest son’s drug addiction and poor choices almost brought about his own death. It’s about two parents barely hanging on. And, it’s about the time God clearly spoke to me, in the midst of my angst.  

First, some personal  background on God and me.   I am a believer. But in my early forties, I began to have doubts about what was put forth in the Bible. It was hard to rectify science and what the ancient texts said,at least in my mind.  I had no idea where these books even came from. 

Rather than completely dismiss the Scriptures, or just say they were written thousands of years ago by men trying to explain things they didn’t understand,  I looked into how they came to be, and how they interfaced with history and science.  I found enough evidence to enable me to fully take the step of faith. There is not, nor will there ever be, 100% documentation for what is described in the Bible. Faith is the component that is required. I only ask anyone who doesn’t believe, or who is struggling, to look at the facts objectively before deciding.

So, understand that this story I’m about to recount is told thru my personal faith filter. 

The years of my son’s drug addiction had finally come to a head.    Matt was in a hospital, recovering from major surgery caused by a gunshot wound he received in a home invasion.  He nearly lost his life, very nearly lost his arm, and because he robbed two pharmacies, was about  to lose his freedom.  At one of our visits, he was lucid enough to tell us that he was not going to jail; instead he was going to kill himself. This statement, along with the shooting, the arrest, and all the publicity surrounding it, pushed us to the tipping point. 

We left the hospital room that evening, shuffling our feet down the hallway and looking at the floor.  My wife, Carol, finally spoke. 

 “If only we could find someone he could talk to. Someone with a gentle demeanor.”  I nodded in agreement. 

We boarded  the elevator and descended in silence. After a few seconds, I had a breakthrough.   

“Wait a minute!  What about Doug?”   Carol nodded in agreement.  

I was referring to Doug Carpenter, a retired Episcopal minister and one of the finest men  I knew.  Doug has a calming spirit and a soothing voice.   He would be the perfect choice to talk to Matt.  

“I’ll call him tomorrow when I get to the office,” I said. 

I had gone back to work, but was totally unproductive.  I would later describe this time in my life as walking in waist high, wet concrete.  By the end of the each day, I was exhausted.  Because of the situation,  just living took so much effort. 

Around 9:30 the next morning, I was shuffling papers at my desk, when my phone rang.   It was a familiar voice. 

“Hello, Joe, this is Doug Carpenter.”  

“Oh, hey Doug,”  I answered.  I was confused. Had Carol already called him?

I continued. “Funny you should call me, because I planned to give you a call this morning.”

Doug responded in his trademark upbeat voice.  “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I just got back from the hospital, where I had a delightful meeting with your son.”

What? Huh?  I was dumbstruck.  

Doug continued, saying something that was about to strike me even dumber. 

“I just woke up and had the urge to  go and see him this morning - so I did.” 

It took me a moment to respond.  It usually does when you know God just showed you something incredible.

Finally I managed to speak, saying, “Well Doug, that urge was your Boss telling you to go to work, because I was going to call you this morning and ask you to visit Matt - and I don’t believe in coincidence.”

Doug was quick to answer. “Joe, a coincidence is just a miracle that happens when God doesn’t want to take credit.”

I had never heard that before, but I really liked it. 

When I hung up the phone, I stared at my computer screen for what seemed like an hour -trying to wrap my mind around what just happened.   Somebody that I was going to call called me to tell me they had already done what I was going to ask them to do. Just thinking about that gives me a headache. 

That evening when I told Carol what happened, she was impressed,  saying, “Well, God knows you try to do everything yourself, so sometimes He needs to thump you in the head to make sure you know He’s  in control.” 

I agreed. But, He also knows I can be hard headed, so maybe I needed to be thumped extra hard. Believe me, it was coming. 

The next morning was Saturday, and I got up early to go and check on our little place at the lake.   I was really just trying to clear my head.  Carol decided to stay home, clean the house, and prepare for a Beth Moore Bible study the next day. She was sitting in the den, previewing the lecture on a mini DVD player,  when I walked past her.  That’s when I heard Beth’s voice say: 

“A coincidence is just a miracle that happens when God doesn’t want to take credit.” 

I gasped. I was speechless.  It felt like something physically jolted me.  It had.  I was smacked on this hard head of mine once again.   Never in my life has anything like this happened.   Two totally improbable events that happened on consecutive days.  Separate but connected. In case I didn’t get it,  I had been told once again that regardless of how much I try to take over a situation, I’m not in control.  He is. Ten years later,  I’m getting chill bumps as I type this. 

Proofreading this piece, I am  reminded, once again, how God will walk with us in tough situations.  I have seen courtrooms. I have seen prisons and halfway houses.  I have seen counselors, guards, and parole officers.  It has been, and continues to be, difficult.  It is still painful.  Matt is out now. He’s clean, has a job, and is living with us. Things still aren’t all green grass and sunshine, however.  The scars from the drug culture and prison life are slow to heal - on both sides.   The outcome may not be what I want; in fact, I don’t even know what the outcome will be. But I do know, as was pointed out to me twice,  that someone bigger than me is in charge. 

And that gives me hope.  And a message of hope is a message that should be repeated over and over right now. 

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