- Sep 30, 2018
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I wrote this a few years back for a college essay contest. I didn't win... But I found it again in my files and thought it might be worth sharing here.
Assurance and the Shooting Star
There are a few things that I miss.
I miss a place that I once called home - and still do, but in a different sense than before. I miss the birds that sing outside my bedroom window and wake me up to a morning of blue skies and golden sunshine. I miss the entrancing rhythm of the crickets and cicadas in the summer nights that gradually fades and morphs into the music of my dreams. I miss the rolling, green hills of grazing sheep and herds of black and white cows. We joke that the number of cows lying down versus standing up gives the percentage chance of rain for the day!
Upon visiting my home for the first time, you might marvel at its idyllic beauty and green, leafy solitude. Most likely you will request a stroll down our woodland paths, during which you will also likely be amazed by the bridges, huts, and cave that are hidden in the underbrush, built by my siblings and I in past years. It is always my pleasure to give this tour. And if you are a truly special person, perhaps I will take you to the top of a hill at night where you can see the far away cities illuminating the clouds and a glowing, red pagoda resting on the edge of a distant mountain. Only special people get to see this.
One such person was Austin - a tall, thin, charismatic guy from my church’s youth group. Upon first meeting him, I was uncertain how to respond to his extreme level of energy and occasional inappropriateness. Quite the life of the party, Austin played in the youth worship team, volunteered in the planning of just about every event, and was the social centerpiece at all our gatherings. In the eyes of many of the teens, without Austin, youth group would simply not be youth group.
I, too, appreciated having Austin there. For years, I had been longing and praying for a close friend with whom I could confide and share my deeper thoughts. I rejoiced the day that I learned of Austin’s desire to serve in fulltime ministry like myself and wondered if this was God’s way of indicating to me that Austin was that friend for whom I had been searching so long – once he matured some, of course.
After attending the same church for over a year, my family decided that it was about time we invited Austin’s family over for dinner as an effort to get to know them more. Being mid-summer, we “young folk” ate outside at a picnic table and feasted on barbecued chicken, hot dogs, fresh fruit, and soda pop. Though initially conversation was awkward as neither I nor my siblings knew Austin that well, soon we found ourselves very comfortable together, making jokes and playing games.
As the sun set that evening, it was discussed what we should do with our remaining time before Austin returned home. My sister suggested that we take him to the top of the hill to show him the view. It sounded good to the rest of us so, grabbing our shoes and flashlights, we excitedly ventured out into the darkness.
The air was crystal clear that night, and the view was spectacular. Austin was amazed at how far we could see. We located the Japanese pagoda, which at night appears to be floating in the sky, and pointed to various towns and cities, just sparkling ribbons of white. As we lingered there taking in the scene, my sister broke the silence to announce that she had spotted a shooting star overhead. “Oh, no! Someone’s going to die soon!” I laughed, remembering a superstition that I had once heard. But, of course, I never gave any credence to superstitions.
As the saying goes, “Time flies when you’re having fun”. I must have enjoyed those days, because they were gone all too soon and before I knew it, I had graduated from both high school and youth group. It was time to seek my first job, and this resulted in my working at a local grocery store managed by Mennonites and frequented by Amish.
Like the faraway pagoda, as my time was consumed by college courses and my new job, I felt increasingly distant from the people at my church that I was once close to. Nevertheless, I stayed informed about recent developments in the youth group through my younger brother. What I heard was encouraging– teens expressing a desire for a spiritual revival, adults noticing a change in the teens’ attitudes, and even Austin was supposedly showing an unprecedented maturity and seriousness. Things were looking up! And even though I was not around to see it happening firsthand, I praised God for what He was doing.
I received news that Austin had been accepted to a Christian college not far from where I myself would soon be transferring. “So this is how God had planned it,” I thought, “We will become friends as college students taking road trips together across the country. God is good!”
You know why shooting stars are so special? They last for just an instant and then they are gone.
It was a Tuesday night and I was at work pushing my little metal cart around stacked high with crates of fresh food, as usual. The clock struck eleven - closing time. Leaving my cart in the cooler, taking off my apron, and “outening” the lights, I bid farewell to my boss who was still in the office and exited through the front door to where I knew my mother would be waiting with the car to chauffeur me home. Sure enough, she was there. From the moment I climbed into the car, however, I sensed something was different. Normally, she was happy to see me and asked me how work had gone. Today, however, she simply said “hello” and nothing more.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. In the seconds before she answered, I imagined what it might be. Did I hurt my parents somehow? Is one of my siblings in the hospital? Does someone have cancer?
Then came the terrible reply, “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just be straight to the point… Austin killed himself.”
As we drove back home, I stared out the window at the starry sky fighting to keep back the emotions that wanted release so badly. At home, my father expressed his condolences and asked if I needed to pray with him. I said no and went straight to bed. Five hours later, I finally fell asleep having no tears left to cry.
Austin’s death was the final blow in a series of struggles that I had been having about my faith and about salvation. I questioned how a Christian could reach a point of such hopelessness with Hope living inside him. Why do some people claim to be Christians and then walk away? How do I know that I am saved and not just trained to live by the norms of Christian culture? What if there is no such thing as salvation?
Holding on to the fading hope that there were answers to these questions, I sought the wisdom of fellow Christians, communicating with them by email. Through these “conversations”, I grew. God showed me that even a Christian can fall as low as an unbeliever if the Holy Spirit is ignored or denied. What separates a Christian from the rest of the world? It is simply the Spirit living inside of him. “And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit whom he has given us” (1 John 3:24b).
Christians will fail us. They will walk away from God, fail to be there when we need them, be misled by false doctrines, or hurt us personally. And though it breaks my heart to see this happen to Christians I know, Christians like Austin, through experiencing his suicide I realized what it means to trust in God only. Through the tears, and doubts, and pain of it all, I now have found a peace and a stronger assurance than I had before.
Today, it still hurts sometimes to think about Austin’s death – the friend that I never quite had – the star that was overtaken by darkness. But the assurance I gained in my own salvation through Austin’s death, I would not give up for the world.
Not even for rolling green hills or a flock of sheep.
Assurance and the Shooting Star
There are a few things that I miss.
I miss a place that I once called home - and still do, but in a different sense than before. I miss the birds that sing outside my bedroom window and wake me up to a morning of blue skies and golden sunshine. I miss the entrancing rhythm of the crickets and cicadas in the summer nights that gradually fades and morphs into the music of my dreams. I miss the rolling, green hills of grazing sheep and herds of black and white cows. We joke that the number of cows lying down versus standing up gives the percentage chance of rain for the day!
Upon visiting my home for the first time, you might marvel at its idyllic beauty and green, leafy solitude. Most likely you will request a stroll down our woodland paths, during which you will also likely be amazed by the bridges, huts, and cave that are hidden in the underbrush, built by my siblings and I in past years. It is always my pleasure to give this tour. And if you are a truly special person, perhaps I will take you to the top of a hill at night where you can see the far away cities illuminating the clouds and a glowing, red pagoda resting on the edge of a distant mountain. Only special people get to see this.
One such person was Austin - a tall, thin, charismatic guy from my church’s youth group. Upon first meeting him, I was uncertain how to respond to his extreme level of energy and occasional inappropriateness. Quite the life of the party, Austin played in the youth worship team, volunteered in the planning of just about every event, and was the social centerpiece at all our gatherings. In the eyes of many of the teens, without Austin, youth group would simply not be youth group.
I, too, appreciated having Austin there. For years, I had been longing and praying for a close friend with whom I could confide and share my deeper thoughts. I rejoiced the day that I learned of Austin’s desire to serve in fulltime ministry like myself and wondered if this was God’s way of indicating to me that Austin was that friend for whom I had been searching so long – once he matured some, of course.
After attending the same church for over a year, my family decided that it was about time we invited Austin’s family over for dinner as an effort to get to know them more. Being mid-summer, we “young folk” ate outside at a picnic table and feasted on barbecued chicken, hot dogs, fresh fruit, and soda pop. Though initially conversation was awkward as neither I nor my siblings knew Austin that well, soon we found ourselves very comfortable together, making jokes and playing games.
As the sun set that evening, it was discussed what we should do with our remaining time before Austin returned home. My sister suggested that we take him to the top of the hill to show him the view. It sounded good to the rest of us so, grabbing our shoes and flashlights, we excitedly ventured out into the darkness.
The air was crystal clear that night, and the view was spectacular. Austin was amazed at how far we could see. We located the Japanese pagoda, which at night appears to be floating in the sky, and pointed to various towns and cities, just sparkling ribbons of white. As we lingered there taking in the scene, my sister broke the silence to announce that she had spotted a shooting star overhead. “Oh, no! Someone’s going to die soon!” I laughed, remembering a superstition that I had once heard. But, of course, I never gave any credence to superstitions.
As the saying goes, “Time flies when you’re having fun”. I must have enjoyed those days, because they were gone all too soon and before I knew it, I had graduated from both high school and youth group. It was time to seek my first job, and this resulted in my working at a local grocery store managed by Mennonites and frequented by Amish.
Like the faraway pagoda, as my time was consumed by college courses and my new job, I felt increasingly distant from the people at my church that I was once close to. Nevertheless, I stayed informed about recent developments in the youth group through my younger brother. What I heard was encouraging– teens expressing a desire for a spiritual revival, adults noticing a change in the teens’ attitudes, and even Austin was supposedly showing an unprecedented maturity and seriousness. Things were looking up! And even though I was not around to see it happening firsthand, I praised God for what He was doing.
I received news that Austin had been accepted to a Christian college not far from where I myself would soon be transferring. “So this is how God had planned it,” I thought, “We will become friends as college students taking road trips together across the country. God is good!”
You know why shooting stars are so special? They last for just an instant and then they are gone.
It was a Tuesday night and I was at work pushing my little metal cart around stacked high with crates of fresh food, as usual. The clock struck eleven - closing time. Leaving my cart in the cooler, taking off my apron, and “outening” the lights, I bid farewell to my boss who was still in the office and exited through the front door to where I knew my mother would be waiting with the car to chauffeur me home. Sure enough, she was there. From the moment I climbed into the car, however, I sensed something was different. Normally, she was happy to see me and asked me how work had gone. Today, however, she simply said “hello” and nothing more.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. In the seconds before she answered, I imagined what it might be. Did I hurt my parents somehow? Is one of my siblings in the hospital? Does someone have cancer?
Then came the terrible reply, “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just be straight to the point… Austin killed himself.”
As we drove back home, I stared out the window at the starry sky fighting to keep back the emotions that wanted release so badly. At home, my father expressed his condolences and asked if I needed to pray with him. I said no and went straight to bed. Five hours later, I finally fell asleep having no tears left to cry.
Austin’s death was the final blow in a series of struggles that I had been having about my faith and about salvation. I questioned how a Christian could reach a point of such hopelessness with Hope living inside him. Why do some people claim to be Christians and then walk away? How do I know that I am saved and not just trained to live by the norms of Christian culture? What if there is no such thing as salvation?
Holding on to the fading hope that there were answers to these questions, I sought the wisdom of fellow Christians, communicating with them by email. Through these “conversations”, I grew. God showed me that even a Christian can fall as low as an unbeliever if the Holy Spirit is ignored or denied. What separates a Christian from the rest of the world? It is simply the Spirit living inside of him. “And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit whom he has given us” (1 John 3:24b).
Christians will fail us. They will walk away from God, fail to be there when we need them, be misled by false doctrines, or hurt us personally. And though it breaks my heart to see this happen to Christians I know, Christians like Austin, through experiencing his suicide I realized what it means to trust in God only. Through the tears, and doubts, and pain of it all, I now have found a peace and a stronger assurance than I had before.
Today, it still hurts sometimes to think about Austin’s death – the friend that I never quite had – the star that was overtaken by darkness. But the assurance I gained in my own salvation through Austin’s death, I would not give up for the world.
Not even for rolling green hills or a flock of sheep.
