STEEMCHURCH: The Three Famous Questions of Life + history

I still SEEM TO BE LIVING the moment of the three famous questions of life. We all did them once, OR, at least, we were all around thirteen years of age, and one day the three big questions of life make any problem of the United Nations fall short of a game of children. Stress your memory and remember the morning when you did not like what you saw in the mirror, and then ... the three questions. They appear without warning and without waiting for them. It is almost unfair that our quiet Youth will one day be disturbed by three simple questions that will determine our future: "What am I going to do?" "Who am I going to marry?" and "Why will God use me?" Work. Marriage. Ministry, Too much for just one morning.

You may have asked yourself these questions when you completed your first two decades of existence, or maybe in the middle of your life, but you have inevitably gone through that experience. At thirteen ... or at fifty. And to deal with those issues, one must have a healthy self-esteem. And that was not my case. I have several questions that I will ask the Lord when I get to heaven, and none of them has anything to do with the theological. One of them is why I had to suffer so many complexes during my adolescence; and although for some it sounds trivial, for me it meant, among other things, not being able to answer any of those three questions. For some curious reason it cost me horrors to gain weight and enjoy a normal weight, which made me extremely thin, he had in front of the mirror a self-conscious man with self-love shattered.

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Everyone who goes through high school knows the number one rule of popularity: being a genius in sports! Your classmates are not interested if you are good at the History test or if you achieve a good Trigonometry score; What really impacts is that you show that the country is developing a future footballer. I never understood that student theory, let alone understood football or any sport that involves a greater effort to lift a paper from the floor; so, as you are assuming, I was not popular and I was never chosen to play any sport. When it came to putting together the soccer teams, he was always left out of any possible choice.

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So I could not afford to think what I was going to dedicate myself to; I was too worried about my meager physique to worry about a trade, a marriage or a ministry.

I will never forget those days, and I do not believe that God will allow me to do so. Today I can perfectly know how girls with excess weight suffer, boys with glasses, too many for their age, those of short stature, those with braces or very thin ones like me. When one goes through those nights of destroyed self-esteem, he does not forget them easily. I have been ministering to people over forty who live tied to

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Complexes of the past. They have incredible potential, but the hurts of the past (superficial or deep) have not allowed them to reach the fullness of their lives. Maybe you belong to that group, or you know someone who suffered being different from the majority, but whatever your situation, wait for me to tell you the most disturbing story you've ever heard.

From the palace to silence

That morning could have been anybody. The boy woke up in his real crib and someone brought him his real bottle. He was five years old and everyone in the huge palace said he would be as good as his father.
"And as tall as Grandpa," commented a courtier. He was a child with a promising future, son of the prince and grandson of the king, no less. He had a strong resemblance to Hollywood's Ricky Ricon; everything at his feet, he just had to ask for it.
But that morning something interrupted the royal breakfast of our future king; a tragedy, something unexpected. Suddenly the palace was transformed into chaos. A messenger with a bad news, and then the unpredictable; screams, stupor and unfamiliar sounds that the five-year-old could not understand.

«The king and the prince have died in the battle» »The child does not know the meaning of the news, or at least he does not perceive that his future will change course in the next few minutes; After all, he does not have to know that the witch hunt will start now. No one ever told him what could happen if his father and grandfather died the same day; is that those things are not even discussed. .. Until they happen. He does not understand that, when the king dies, his life is in serious danger, so it is not surprising that in the midst of the uproar he continues to play with his real toys.

But the nurse understands something more about kings, palaces and heirs to the throne; so he takes the child in his arms and runs desperately towards the forest. The little boy is five years old and it is not his fault that his father and grandfather have died in a battle, a little boy does not deserve to die for monarchical interests.

But there was an error. A damn mistake that the child would not forget for the rest of his life. The nurse stumbles and the little prince rolls on the floor. A dry "crack" leaves the woman stunned, and the child does not stop crying: his fragile ankles are now broken.

This is not a fair story; On the same day that he is an orphan of father and grandfather, he leaves the palace and a stumble of the person who transported him transforms him into a cripple, a cripple, a handicapped person for the rest of his life.

The story tells that he never walked again and that he had to live in solitary confinement, in a place called Lodebar, the place where dreams die and kings turn into beggars.

Now it has been some time and the child is no longer five years old, possibly thirteen or seventeen, or maybe thirty. And there comes the morning of the famous three questions of life: work, marriage, ministry. But he also does not like what he sees in the mirror, and someone whispers in his ear that "he lacks the merits to answer the three questions. Does not qualify.
He spent his childhood observing how other children played soccer, climbed a tree or simply ran behind a stray dog. He was crippled by an error.

The boys grew up, had girlfriends, bragged about the girls of their dreams and gave their first kiss. He could scarcely imagine it, he was handicapped because someone had dropped him. His social life was damaged; it could have been a king who with just snapping his fingers would have had a harem around him, but he was paralytic ... of the feet and the soul. His name was Mefí Bosset.

The story surprises us because possibly we all have a sad story to tell. Our life runs correctly until one day, without announcing and without warning, something breaks our ankles and tries to change the course of our lives. The girl discovers that she can no longer smile when her stepfather takes advantage of her childhood and steals the most precious thing a woman can have; a boy feels that his heart is broken when his fiancee leaves him as if his feelings were a game of cards; a man discovers that his partner is cheating him without caring about all the projects they had in common; a lady discovers that her husband has been cheating on her for three years with a younger woman; A girlfriend feels dying when her fiancé tries to fondle her; A wife feels violated by her husband on the wedding night and decides to have sex without a soul for the rest of her married life. "Crack". It is the common denominator sound of all cases. Someone suddenly makes us fall, leaving us crippled from the heart, paralyzed by the soul.

Without a doubt the most painful thing is that sometimes the people we depended on the most are those who let us roll around the floor. Suddenly the phrase of a mother exasperated by nerves sentences us in our adolescence: «You will never change!» «Useless!» «Clumsy!» «You are not like your brother!»; words that break our ankles leaving us at the edge of the road. They seem innocuous and even justified phrases, but they set us afire and sometimes they try to determine our future.

I remember that he would draw a smile when one of my brothers commented: "you will be more and more skinny", and even laughed when the Physical Education teacher made fun of my weak legs for sports; and I also knew how to disguise when a leader pointed to me with his long index finger and sentenced: "God never used you, He does not use rebels", but inside I felt that those "crac" tried to tear me from the palace and transform me into a beggar.

Of course, my story, like that of Mefi Bossct, does not have a bad ending. The Bible narrates in 2 Samuel 9 that one afternoon King David (who had relieved Saul on the throne) asks if there is anyone from the old monarchy, from the house of Saul, who could be alive, since the king wishes fulfill an old covenant made with his late friend Jonathan. Someone close to the throne, called Siba, tells King David that, indeed, in Lodebar is the son of Jonatan, Saul's grandson, someone to whom the palace belonged ... but who lived in captivity. And then the unpredictable happens, the king wants them to look for Mefi Bosset and bring him to his table. David wishes to restore his status as prince.

That day always arrives for the handicapped of the soul. The King's spokesman bursts into your Lodebar one day, unrolls a parchment and reads aloud: "The royal edict proclaims that you return to your place of origin, overlooking your wounds and complexes. The King has arranged that you sit down at the table with the other diners, from the day of the date ».

The one that nobody wanted on his high school soccer team, suddenly happens to play in the major leagues. The one who was taken into the arms of the palace to silence, now returns in the arms of silence to the palace. Mefi Bosset has returned home, to sit at the royal table, where the gorditas forget their weight and those of short stature feel giants; where the ankles heal and the fall is just a memory of the past.
Scars that last

I could not finish this chapter without adding something fundamental that I heard from a man of God named Italo Frigoli: "Wounds heal, but do not be ashamed of the scar; remember that there is someone who bears scars on his hands and is not ashamed to have them. "

It is that the King's table is so comfortable, that memory becomes fragile. That's why climate change evokes your old wound. That memory of the past returns for a moment so that you remember that while you read these lines, there are others who dream of returning to the palace and sitting at the table.

The King's wish is that you never feel too comfortable to give up looking for him.