On being called to the journey

And Russell, prostrating himself on the floor of his garage (but careful to avoid the oil stain) responded unto the Lord, "I am humbled in your sight, oh, Lord, and I will do as I am bid ... um ... bidden … bide."

For two weeks, Russell endeavored to create a portrait of the Lord (the first week spent figuring out how big a cubit was). For the following seven days, he splashed vibrant paints upon the canvas — greens and blues and reds ... and that was about it, for Duckwalls was low on acrylics.

And when two weeks had passed, the Lord looked upon the portrait Russell had created, and after an awkward moment said, "Do I really look like that? Why does one eye look bigger than the other? And is my forehead really that big?"

Russell once again prostrated himself before the Lord (this time in his kitchen, but again avoiding an oil stain), and responded unto God, "Dear heavenly Father, if it was a portrait you wanted, why ask a plumber? Why not ask — oh, I don’t know — an artist? A clogged drain I can understand, but —"

We are all like Russell, my friends, each, at times, called to do things for which we don’t feel we have the strength, faith, or the general qualifications. What I say to you is this: we are all far more qualified than we think we are.

Consider our ancestors. On May 14, 1882, settler Constant Frickey homesteaded with his wife, Peachy Keen Frickey, on a patch of land on the plains of eastern Nebraska. As noted in Peachy’s journal, Constant had to travel hundreds of miles to get each and every piece of timber to build their home. Every trip took nearly two weeks. Imagine the fortitude they must have had! The strength of will! And it took even longer to get the wallpaper.

We have far more strength, far more drive than we think we have. In those certain, wonderful instances, we find that our ability can offer wonderful surprises.

Most of you have never heard of Nathan Farnsworth. On Sept. 18, 1931, Farnsworth was mixing various chemicals in hopes of creating a cure for the common cold when he inadvertently invented honey mustard barbecue sauce. Unfazed, three years later, he was experimenting with the effects of large doses of pharmaceuticals on extreme physical activity when he accidentally invented the Chicken Dance.

The Lord has a plan for us, his imperfect people. We may think he wants us to invent a cure for the common cold, but what he may really want for us is to create a pleasant tasting barbecue sauce. We are an army of flawed servants who forge ahead to do God’s will despite our failings.

To find the best example of this, we need only look at ourselves. In 1988, a young underachiever who, as a child, had to sit in the "special class" with the other terrible spellers, found himself a reporter for his college newspaper. My spelling is still so atrocious that I’ve caused at least five computer spell-check programs to spontaneously combust. And to this day I don’t know an adverb from a hammer, and yet, here I am, getting paid to write a column about what a poor speller/grammarian I am. Cool, huh?

You see, if the Lord is asking, then you have the ability. You have the time, the strength, and the faith. You need only allow him to lead the way. You may never become Pavarotti, but that doesn’t mean God doesn’t want you to sing in the church choir. You may not reach Everest, but who knows -- maybe God’s real plan is for you to affect that one person along the journey. Being called by God is to wonder how your journey can change others. Although we may think the Lord’s call is only about us, it is, most importantly, about how we affect other people.

By now you’re undoubtedly wondering what happened to Russell. Yes, God was disappointed with his portrait, so Russell waited until Duckwalls had more paint and tried again. And again. And again. And again. In fact, it wasn’t until 37 years later that the Lord finally looked upon Russell’s portrait and said unto him, "Now we’re getting somewhere."