The young man sat with head solemnly bowed, his hands grasping his thick brown hair. He was simply dreadful, and depression sat at the wait like a slobbering, drooling dog waiting to gnaw on a rotten bone.
The Father walked quietly toward him and rested His hand on the young man’s shoulder. He spoke softly to him,
“ It will be okay my son, I’ll work it all out.”
The young man turned to look into his Fathers’ eyes but no one was there, just an empty room, a tear trickled down his unshaven cheek.
It wasn’t some great and dreadful thing that had befallen Nicholas, but just one of many small things. He had troubles at work and with his boss, he felt that his job at the warehouse was a dead-end. And yet at the same time a never-ending sea of unforgiving brown boxes. He could bear going to work everyday, in spite of the hissing mouths of all those wicked people, if only he had hope of a different future.
These hopes never came easy for him. Ideas after ideas were shot down, along with all the hopes that accompanied them. It made Nicholas feel like he was imprisoned in this present life, it was worse that this is what he had chosen for himself.
Eight years had passed by, eight years of these nagging feelings, eight years of hopelessness.
Christmas was soon upon him, and with it a much desired two-week vacation. Family arrived and departed, turkey prepared and eaten, and with it Nicholas found time to spend with the Master.
He prayed, “Lord, I am miserable! What do you want me to do? What do I do?”
“It will be okay my son, I’ll work it all out.”
Nicholas turned toward the familiar sound of those words, and leaning against the far wall of that empty room lay a prayer book. That day and many days after he read that prayer book, he absorbed it, and he wrote down all that he learned and all that the Father spoke to him through the Spirit.
The Lord gave him dreams at night and every morning Nicholas wrote them down in the form of a story. Sometimes the Lord showed him what they meant, and other times he felt led to share them with his friends. They always were moved by the relevance the stories shared with their life.
He loved this, that he could affect others’ lives just by writing what the Lord had given him. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is what his work was to be, writing was his gift from the Lord.
From time to time in the dark morning hours at work, that depressing feeling would rise up. But then Nicholas would remember that God was in control, and He’d work it all out.
We all walk through the valley at some point in our life like Nicholas had too. We have to remember that we’ll never reach the mountaintops unless we get out of God’s way and let Him drive the vehicle of our life.
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