God Never Left: A Christmas Reflection
A Hard Life, A Soft Voice: Listening for God at Christmas
In just a few hours, Marion and I will be attending Midnight Christmas Mass at St. John XXIII—except it begins at 10:30 p.m. At seventy-one, I am very good with “Midnight Mass” starting at 10:30.
Just over thirty-nine years ago, I quit drinking. It happened when I finally recognized that both of my parents were alcoholics. At the same time, I understood why I believed God had created the universe and then walked away. If there were a God and he were truly present, He would have stepped in and rescued me from my family.
Thirty-five years ago, everything changed. God removed the hatred I had carried in my heart since childhood—hatred I had expected to take with me to the grave. But God lifted it instead. I will never forget that moment. Serenity washed over me, the warm breath of God had descended upon me, and I was bathed in His light. It was then I understood: I had never been alone, not as a child, and not as I stepped into adulthood. God had always been at my side.
Forty-three years ago, Marion and I were married in the Catholic Church. A few years later, I was confirmed as a Catholic. Since then, Midnight Christmas Mass has a special place in my heart. The priest weaving through the church with burning incense, the fragrance filling my lungs. The delicate sprinkling of holy water on my face. The choir and congregation singing as one body. The readings, the Old Testament, the Psalms, and the New Testament draw us together in prayer and purpose. In those moments, I feel connected to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit; I am Catholic.
As I look back over seventy years, I see the hand of God throughout my life:
• At nine years old, standing at an open window, choosing to live.
• At fourteen, falling fifteen feet off a sheer rock face and walking away with only scratches.
• Backpacking in the Sierra Nevada: twice hearing a bullet whistle past me (it wasn’t hunting season).
• While hiking out of the high Sierras, rain, thunder, and lightning descended on us. My companion was shivering and incoherent due to hypothermia. I built a shelter, gave her food, and warmth. Within a short time, we got back on the trail and finished the hike down the mountain by the light of a full moon.
• In the Blue Ridge Mountains, lightning struck the tree beside my tent. I felt the shock, smelled the electricity. Not much I could do, went back to sleep.
• In the Smokies, a bear snagged my backpack; I could hear him and watched him in between lightning flashes. Not much I could do; I went back to sleep.
• I was late getting field measurements on our open five-story structure. Solo, I was up on the frosty steel with no harness, taking field measurements with a clipboard and tape measure (surprisingly, no mistakes).
• Running as the Republican candidate for U.S. Senate.
All my life, I believed I had survived those moments because I was prepared (I was an Eagle Scout), determined, steady, and kept my wits about me. And all of that is true. But perhaps there was more at work than preparation. I was not alone; God was with me.
For thirty-five years, I roughly prayed the same prayer, “God, you haven’t brought me this far to drop me on my head. What is your vision for me?” So far, I haven’t heard a response. But I’m listening. And I will let you know if and when God answers.
To you, my brothers and sisters:
I pray that God watches over you as well. May you feel His presence, and may you discover His vision for your life, too.
Merry Christmas.