The Moment Of Truth
Several years ago I was required to be trained on – and received a license to operate – a work assist vehicle. The vehicle’s purpose is to help access material in racks that cannot be reached from the floor. The WAV allows just enough room for the operator to stand on a small platform as it is driven to the location where it is needed. To operate the WAV, the driver presses a button to raise the platform straight into the air until the needed height is reached.
Not being particularly fond of heights, I initially was a bit uncomfortable using the WAV. The material I needed to reach on a daily basis did not require me to go beyond seven or eight feet off the ground. Eventually I became accustomed to and comfortable with this new task. Recently, however, due to the everchanging demands of the marketplace and the need for space for new material, more racks were added; and now, some of the material I need is some 20 feet in the air – far beyond my comfort zone. The material at the top is the least needed, and it is the rare occasion that I have to gather from that height; but when I do, anxiety sets in. I avoid it like the plague.
Recently I was gathering material with the WAV within my comfort zone when an individual from another department, not trained on the WAV, asked if I could grab some material from the top rack for him. As I looked up, I realized I would have to take the WAV to its maximum height to get what he needed. Reaching maximum height causes a sudden jerk followed by a swaying motion. It was the moment of truth. I had a decision to make. What could I say? My thoughts raced. How could I say no when I obviously had a license to operate the WAV? As he stood there waiting, I felt obligated to comply. To avoid embarrassment I began my ascent preparing myself for the jerking and the swaying. When I reached the top I carefully grabbed the material and returned to ground level, with what I believe was a weak smile, as I handed him what he needed.
Later that day, as I reflected on how I seemingly overcame my fear in “the moment of truth,” it hit me that I am faced with such moments of truth in my faith life each day. Having been called at my baptism to be a disciple of Jesus, I am to listen for His voice each day and be open to rise to whatever height he might ask of me. Unlike the legitimate fear of very real danger I feel when operating the WAV, when called upon by Jesus I should have nothing to fear. So why do I not always answer as quickly and as affirmatively as I did in the above mentioned “moment of truth?”
Just as with tasks I do for my job, in my day-to-day faith life I am content to do those things that I am most comfortable with; and in doing so I foolishly presume I am doing my part to serve the Lord. Many times though I hear a call to do something that makes me feel uncomfortable. Very similar to when I think about being 20 feet in the air, anxiety sets in and I avoid answering like the plague. My thoughts race and I latch onto any excuse so as to not feel guilty for saying no to God.
How easily I forget that just because I cannot see God, that does not mean He is not right beside me, as was the individual at work who needed my help. And similarly, as I am licensed to operate the WAV, God has gifted me with the talent to do whatever he asks of me, even if I am uncomfortable or feel I am not qualified.
On the night of the Last Supper, Jesus was faced with “a moment of truth.” As he prayed in the garden of Gethsemane, his sweat fell to the ground like drops of blood. Jesus prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) Jesus put His trust in His Father and said “yes” in His “moment of truth.”
This, the holiest week of the year, is a timely reminder of the greatest gift ever given to humankind. In a moment of truth Jesus gave His life on the cross for each one of us so that we might live forever. As we hear God’s call each day, let us not forget the sacrifice Jesus made for us and the joyous hope that the Resurrection brings to each of us. As we face our daily moments of truth, let us pray for one another that we each may fearlessly rise to whatever height our Lord may call us and that our answer to Him will be, “Not my will but yours be done.”
Brenda Hopf is a member of Divine Mercy Parish in Dubois County and also contributes to the “Sharing the Load” column in The Message.
