I really liked the game of chess as a kid. I often played a neighbor boy who was just enough older than I was that he typically beat me, soundly. I’m not terribly competitive, but I am terribly nerdy so I went to the library* for help. There I learned of a move called “The Queen’s Sacrifice” where you lure your opponent into taking your queen and he puts himself into check-mate. It worked like a charm, once; and taught me a lesson I’ll never forget…
My queen died so that I, the chess player, could win. The move was totally unfair to her and, since she didn’t live to see me win, my reasoning was totally obscure to her. As her sovereign, her feelings, perceptions, were less important than my goal of winning. By now I’m sure you realize that I’m not really talking about a chess piece.
We have promises, we know that He had reserved us a home in heaven, but here on earth I’m a player on His team; a chess piece on His board – “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him”. I leave you with this piece by Pastor Jack Hyles. Your Brother in Christ, Pastor Scott
I was in Mansfield. Ohio, sitting on a platform about to speak. The Pastor of the church where I was speaking leaned over and whispered to me that there was a certain lady in the back whose husband had cancer. He asked me to pray for her and for him. After the service, several people came by to express their burdens and heartaches and divulge the loads they carried. I went to my room and thought of the many people in my own church who carry similar loads. My mind settled on one particular one who just a few days before had looked through tears toward me to ask, “Why, Pastor, why?” These meditations caused me to sit in my motel room one Labor Day afternoon and pen the following lines:
I have sat beside a tiny crib,
And watched a baby die,
As parents slowly turned toward me,
To ask, “Oh, Pastor, why?”
I have held the youthful husband’s head,
And felt death’s heave and sigh.
A widow looked through tears and said,
“Dear Pastor, tell me why?”
I have seen a gold-star mother weep,
And hold a picture nigh
Her lonely breast, and softly ask,
“Why? Pastor, why, oh, why?”
I have walked away from babyland,
Where still-born babies lie.
A mother stretches empty arms,
And asks me, “Pastor, why?”
I have watched my drunken Father leave
Our home, and say “good-bye,”
While looking into Mother’s face
I asked, “Please tell me why?”
I have heard the white-tipped tapping cane,
Which leads a blinded eye.
And then a darkened, lonely voice
Cries, Preacher, show me why.”
I have caught a fiancee’s burning tears,
And heard her lonely cry.
She held an unused wedding gown,
And shouted, “Pastor, why?”
I have heard the cancer patient say,
” ‘Tis gain for me to die;”
Then look into his daughter’s face,
And mutely whisper, “Why?”
I have seen a father take his life,
A widow stands nearby;
As little children say, “Dear Mom,
The Preacher’ll tell us why.”
I’ve seen my mother stand beside
Two tiny graves and cry.
And though she’s never let me know,
I knew she wondered, “Why?”
I’ve heard an orphan faintly say,
Who gazed into the sky,
“Tho Mom and Dad have gone away,
My Preacher will know why.”
I tiptoed to my Father’s throne,
So timid and so shy,
To say, “Dear God, some of Your own
Are wanting to know why.”
I heard him say so tenderly,
“Their eyes I’ll gladly dry,
Tho they must look through faith today,
Tomorrow they’ll know why.”
“If now they find the reasons that
Their hopes have gone awry,
In Heaven, they will miss the joy
Of hearing Me tell why.”
And so I’ve found it pleases Him
When I can testify,
“I’ll trust my God to do what’s best,
And wait to find out why.”
*When the internet went public on April 30, 1993, I was married with a third child on the way.
Grace Notes 