03/21/20 Weekend Grif.Net - Two Birthdays Last Week
Robert Griffin
[For new readers/subscribers to the Grif.Net blog - on Monday-Friday we send out a slightly warped blend of humor. On the weekend we send out material that is more serious of a moral, ethical, religious or political nature. The past week I had TWO BIRTHDAYS, and every year I share this story on the Grif.Net that includes a little bit of my personal life (and my heart) with all the faithful readers, even if you've heard it before! Will return to humor Monday, Lord willing.]
PART ONE:
March 14, 1948 was a momentous day for Bud and Helen Griffin of Minneapolis. Bud had come home from WWII in the Philippines and now they were expecting a baby. A lanky little baby boy, Robert Edward Griffin, Jr., was born at the Swedish Hospital that morning, at just over 7 pounds. While the family was dirt poor, they had each other, lots of kin folk, and more love than any family deserves.
I did not walk until 24 months. I did not talk until 26 months. They actually took me to a specialist (a Jewish doctor) to find out if I was retarded. Don't get ahead of me. He said "No" and indicated that once I started to talk, they would never be able to shut me up. Prophetic!
I almost died that 2nd summer. TB was rampant and I could not breathe. So it was recommended to put me in a tuberculosis sanatorium (note the spelling) and hope I would survive. Once there, I was tested and found to "only" have congestive bronchial asthma and sent home.
Polio hit our block in 1956. It killed a couple of my classmates and crippled Jerry a few doors up the alley from us. The tragedy and reality of death brought a new sincerity to our prayers and search for God. From there it was growing up during the Korean War, H-bomb drills in school (like hiding under a desk would help a nuclear attack) and drifting from religion to religion - tried Jewish like many neighbors, then Catholic like the other neighbors, then Baptist.
PART TWO
March 17, 1957, was the second most momentous day. My mother had been sending my sister and me a few blocks away to a Baptist church in the inner city of Minneapolis. There God began to do a work in my heart. Now, I wasn't a BAD kid - hey, I was only in 4th grade for goodness sake! But I knew I was a sinner worthy of God's judgment. And with the very real threat that my world could end any day through sickness or war, I was not ready!
Guess I should thank God for ordaining my salvation from before the foundation of the world, because I'm living fulfillment of the verse in Acts 13:48 " . . as many as were ordained to eternal life, believed." Wow. All of a sudden my feeble faith (that was the regenerative work of the Holy Spirit) on that March 17th cried out in repentance to God to save me from hell and wash away my sin. It was ALL God's grace. Kinda like a baby celebrating his birthday - the baby had not really ANYTHING to do with it! Conceived and delivered by miracle - all the baby does is get squeegeed out and start crying!
But that day changed the course of the rest of my life. Oh, life went on with school, college, grad work, marriage, ordination and three wonderful kids of my own, 15 grandkids, pastoring, and serving as a college dean and professor. But I had been truly "born again" - not out of some emotional hype of high-pressure salesmanship or from a knee-jerk reaction to a movie, but an inner moving of God that has never left me and continues to give fulfillment and purpose to my life.
So, born physically March 14th, 1948, born again March 17th, 1957. And now, facing heaven. All of us "boomers" are facing our own mortality. When in 2003 the doctors said "You have six months to live; maybe 1 or 2 painful years at the most if you’re unlucky" - it hung heavily around my neck. Nobody is sure of ANY day, but we all make plans like there will be endless tomorrows.
But you know, I didn't have a thing to do with my day of birth. I didn't have a thing to do with being the recipient of God's grace on my second "birthday". And I won't have a thing to do with the day that HE has appointed for me to go to heaven - whether at 72 or 102. Someone congratulated me on how I'd "made it" to 72. What did "I" do? Hello? God gives life, not me!
I don't believe doctors and I sure don't trust them (don't tell my wife, the doctor). I believe God has a plan. I wasn't born by accident and wasn't born again by accident either. GOD is the blessed controller of all things. And until that plan is complete, and not a minute sooner, I plan to live every day to the fullest!
So March 17th this week was St. Bob's Day. I am rejoicing that God has given me another year to live, celebrated with cake and candles (and fire extinguisher, just in case) and now the anniversary of my "becoming a saint". So I share the day with Patrick, but I'm not wearin' the green. Since my second birth, I've been wearing robes of righteousness! And waiting to see my Lord at His divinely appointed time.
Thanks for listening. And trust YOU can celebrate TWO birthdays in 2020 as well. If you have questions, I consider myself a cyber-friend and happy to dialog with you.
~~
Dr Bob Griffin
"Jesus Knows Me, This I Love!"