Too Short for a Blog Post, Too Long for a Tweet 481

 

 

Here are a few excerpts from a book I recently read, "Zig: The Autobiography of Zig Ziglar," by Zig Ziglar.

 

We buried Papa November 5; I had my sixth birthday November 6, and Winnie Beth died November 7. As an adult writing this, I can’t imagine the magnitude of what my mother was dealing with. I know what it is to lose a child. My mind can’t couple that indescribable grief with the simultaneous loss of my wife. I can tell you that circumstances don’t create character, they reveal character, and what was revealed in my mother was truly a godly character. The circumstances she faced would have overwhelmed many, but as several of us children have said over the years, “Mama never took anything into her own hands.”

It was an exhausting, emotionally draining time, and being together at that sorrowful time in that one room united us into something stronger than any one of us could have been individually. Our unified grief seemed to bind our family even more tightly together. Mama began by stating the obvious. “I’m in charge now, children, and you will listen to me. We all know what we have been through. We all know how difficult this time is. Yet God is with us and will see us through! He has promised to be with us, and now we will call upon His promises.” 

Hubert, the oldest of us, jumped in, saying, “When Mother says to do something, we will do it! I am here to see to it that we all support our mother.” 

Right there in that bedroom the habit of unquestioned trust with which we had invested Papa was passed on to Mama. Mama always knew what was best. And if we tested her, the pencil-thin peach-tree switch she could readily acquire with a few fast steps down the back stairs was a reminder that her burdens required obedience and cooperation from us. Rarely did any of us go against her instructions, and, while being switched was painful and embarrassing, not once did we ever feel that we had been unfairly treated, abused, or severely punished. 

She closed our family meeting that day by saying, “Children, some people will say to you that they are sorry for our ‘loss.’ You are to say, ‘thank you.’ But I want you to understand something very important. Your father and your sister are not lost. When someone is lost, that means we don’t know where he or she is. Your father and sister are with Jesus in heaven right now. Someday we will all be there together.” 

It was comforting for all of us to hear the conviction, love, and faith in Mama’s voice as she instructed us in what was to come. It was obvious that she was counting on God to help her raise the eight children who still lived under her roof.

On September 15, 1944, at 9:08 P.M., I met the belle who would eventually become my bride. God certainly blessed me when He sent her my way. I met her in Jackson, Mississippi, at the YWCA, which was hosting a party for the sailor boys from Mississippi College and Millsaps College and the personnel from the Mississippi Ordnance Plant in Flora, Mississippi. When I walked in and saw her, I was immediately smitten. I know that God arranged our meeting because she had never been to the YWCA before, and neither had I. She never went back; neither did I. As I’ve told people for years, there was no point in going back when I had found exactly what I was looking for on the first trip!

Making headway in the speaking business wasn’t easy. It was truly tough sledding for the next couple of years. Although I was beginning to make progress, it was a very slow process. In 1972 I had been doing some training with a small direct-sales company. Our national convention was in Nashville, Tennessee. During the sessions I’d had with this small company, people kept talking about how remarkable Ann Anderson, their top producer, was. When I finally met Ann herself, she immediately started talking about Sister Jessie, an elderly black lady who had taught her many things and to whose wisdom she felt she owed most of her success. On Sunday afternoon of the convention we had some free time, so the Redhead and I drove to Tullahoma, Tennessee, with Ann. We met and visited with Sister Jessie, who said a few things that impressed me and stuck with me. Then we went back to Nashville, finished the convention, and returned to Dallas. 

When I got home, the things Sister Jessie had said were still on my mind. I called Ann and asked her to bring Sister Jessie to our home for the Fourth of July weekend to spend some time with us. I sent them tickets, and they came to Dallas. I Gave My Life to Christ That weekend Sister Jessie walked into our home talking about Jesus Christ, and for nearly three days that is all she talked about. She spoke of His love and mercy for all of mankind as the Son of God and of the great sacrifice He made on the cross to save us from sin and death. To be brief, she made a very convincing and persuasive case for me to give my life to Him. I listened intently as her words washed over me and was profoundly moved. The truth of what she said found fertile soil in my heart and turned my life around. There was grace in our home that weekend. God was present and leading us. We went to bed reasonably late that Saturday night, and I had still not made my commitment to accept Christ as my personal Lord and Savior, but what Sister Jessie said was weighing heavily on my mind. 

The next morning when I awakened, I realized with awe and surprise that I was actually now a different person. There were no bells or whistles, no flashes of light or crashing of thunder. But there was a new peace about me, and I knew that I would never be the same old Zig Ziglar again. That beautiful, clear, July 4 night as I lay out in my swimming pool, I looked up into the heavens and, praising God more than praying, said, “Lord, I know you put this big, beautiful universe together, and I know that one day you will take it all down.” At that precise instant I saw a star fall and leave a small sparkling trail in the night sky. God impressed in my own mind that he was saying, in so many words, “That’s right, boy, and don’t you ever forget it!” And I never have. On July 4, 1972, Christ asked me to come to Him, and I did. And when I made the commitment to Christ I became a new and better person. I left the old me and my former way of approaching life behind. I wanted to be like Christ, to follow Christ, and introduce others to Him just as dear Sister Jessie did for me that weekend.

It wasn’t lost on me that when I got my life in line with what God wanted, started living for Him and making Him my first priority, everything else seemed to fall into place. I believe that one of the reasons God let me struggle for forty-five years with only patches of success and accomplishments was so that my ego would not take control of my behavior. I also believe that when good things did start to happen in my life, God wanted to be sure I knew Who was responsible and that I would never be confused about their source. And truthfully, I never have been confused. Today, when I teach my advanced course in math to my Sunday school class—namely that “You plus God equals enough”—I know that I am primarily talking to me.

For several years I had been telling people that I couldn’t understand how the Redhead, who had been my wife for nearly forty years, was more beautiful to me than she was on the day we were married. Somehow, it seemed illogical that a grandmother would be more beautiful than an eighteen-year-old bride. Yet she was to me—and still is! It really baffled me because in my logical mind it simply did not compute. 

That Sunday morning in Jerusalem, God spoke to me in my spirit and said, “Let me tell you why your wife is more beautiful to you today than she was on your wedding day. I’m letting you look at her through my eyes now, and in my eyes I see perfection. She is forgiven.” I’ll never forget the experience and how profoundly it affected me—and affects me to this day. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all of us could see all people through God’s eyes all the time?