Mysterious Ways: Bob Ross, Phishers of Men, and the Big Picture.

Stay with me...
    
      Growing up I used to love The Joy of Painting.  During my childhood summers, when I wasn't swimming or vacationing with my family or when the Mississippi sun refused to be cool, I would sit in my living room with a balogna sandwich and watch Bob Ross create his masterpieces.  I loved his ironic fro, his wet-on-wet technique, his happy trees, his serene landscapes.  He really did make painting a joy.     

      However, there was one facet of his tutorials that consistently unnerved me: the happy accidents.  I was convinced that I was being lied to; the show ran for over 31 seasons, so I doubt that what he called "happy accidents" were even accidents at all.  Bob would mesmerise me with his brush, forging other worlds with color alone!  But then he would just make a "mistake", put purple in a tree, or throw a black squiggle smack dab in the middle of a cornflower blue sky!  WHY BOB, WHY?!  Then with his soft, unobtrusive timbre, he would assure "we don't make mistakes here, we just have happy accidents".  And he proved it over and over again.  He turned that purple spot in the tree into a shadow or created the illusion of depth.  The black squiggle he would turn into a bird or cloud lining.  He did this every day.  And even though I had seen it over and over, I always doubted his ability to get himself out of this mess he created for himself.  I couldn't see the big picture.  But Bob did knew the big picture all along, and he always came though.  Always.  For 31 seasons, he always came through.  Bob Ross was a genius. 
       Based on my own experiences in life, it is my conclusion that God often works the same way.  Most recently I experienced this in Alpharetta, GA.  Last week I took a short trip to the Atlanta area primarily to visit my friends Ryan and Ashleigh and their daughter Molly, secondarily to catch a Phish show.  The weather had been pleasant the entire trip from Tupelo and Marietta and continued so through our visit.  When the time came to leave for the show, however, the bottom fell out.  I could literally see only about 5 feet in front of my vehicle.  As I approached the ampitheatre, the weather did let up a little, and I saw two young men about my age walking briskly toward the venue, thumbs stretched and a little damp.  I am typically not one to pick up hitchhikers, but it had been raining, and I was confident that, just like I was, they were just trying to get to the ampitheatre in time for the opener.  So, under the circumstances, I obliged.
        Phish fans are famously friendly and, for the most part, trustworthy.  I had no problem giving them a lift, and Mike and Ben, the damp duo, were exceedingly grateful.  Neither of us knew exactly where the ampitheatre was, much less Lot N (my parking assignment), so we rode, keeping our eyes peeled and talking small.  Through all of this I felt compelled to share Christ with them.  The trouble is that I have never been great when it comes to witnessing.  I get nervous and often raise the topic of Jesus and salvation abruptly, leaving my audience thinking Random!   Jesus is a personal God, and I feel that the use of an awkward non sequitur is such an impersonal way to share Him with others.  It gives the message I have a duty rather than I care for you.  So when the opportunity presented itself organically, I immediately recognized it and seized it.
      We were exchanging stories from past shows we had been to, and I brought up that this one would be an indefinite "last hoorah" what with my son due to be born in 2 months.  When they asked his name and I said Fischer they inquired as to the origins to such a name.  Under the circumstance it was natural for them to assume that my unborn child was Phish's namesake.  I explained that in the Bible Jesus calls us Christians to be fishers of men, to reach out to others, particularly those who do not know Him.  One of my passengers asked my subsequently, "So I can assume you are a religious man?"  Again I was delighted with the opportunity to further explain what it meant to be a Christian.  I explained to the two that I am not religious, but that because I called upon Jesus to save me from sin and hell and to forgive me for my sins against Him that I have the hope (expectancy, not desire) of an eternity with Him in heaven.
      It was as simple as I could put it in the short time we had together.  They were impressed not so much with the message but more with the idea that so many diverse people, including the "religious", come together for a common purpose: to see Phish.  This was obviously not what I wanted them to take away from our time together, but I was ever thankful for the opportunity to minister to Mike and Ben.  We found a place close to the venue, we said our good byes, and they vacated to walk the remainder of the trek.  I eventually found Lot N and caught a shuttle to the ampitheatre in time for the opener.  It stormed for the remainder of the night, but I danced and sang and had a big time, soaking wet.  As the night went on though, I began to think about the series of events that transpired prior to the concert, and I realized that I had been given a gift; I was given the opportunity to see the big picture of what had happened when I picked up those two hitchhikers.  I had not expected to pick up anyone that evening, and it wasn't necessarily my expectation to share my faith with anyone.   While people who know me know that I am a Christian, I was given the chance in a place where no one knew me to stand out and do more for the kingdom of Christ.  What touched me the most was that God had chosen to use my son, my unborn baby boy, to help share His Son with those who need Him.
     Bob Ross was a genius, but there is no one like our God!  It's nearly impossible to make certain connections until you see the finished product.  I never made the connection between the rain and those two guys who needed a ride and my car with extra space and our attending the same concert and my son's name.  It all looked like a happy accident, but God knew what he was doing.  And I am blessed to have been used.  It is my prayer that the Seed, the Word of God that was planted in them will be watered by the Holy Spirit and that they will come to a saving knowledge of Christ.