February 24, 2003 

THE MEANDERINGS OF SMIDGE SAMUELSON
Episode 5—The Strange Encounter

These were the mellow years. Sandy's life was stable and secure, and so were his family relationships. A loving wife who shared most of his interests, three children who were still young enough to think their daddy was Superman—what more could he ask? But there was more. Years of dedication to his field had earned him the title "Associate Professor of Psychology," and he had built up a reputation as one of the most popular lecturers on campus. He was elected to the boards of three non-profit agencies, all dedicated to helping families, children and youth.

This was it. This was the good life, not just in material possessions (he was comfortable, but not indulgent), but also in accomplishments and purpose. Those who knew Dr. Sandford L. Samuelson had great respect for him, and many tried to walk in his footsteps.

But . . . . "Okay, why does there always have to be a 'but'?" Sandy thought. "Am I some kind of a masochist? How can I be less than satisfied? Everything is right."

It was a Sunday morning when these thoughts started to well up in Sandy's mind. Barbara and the kids were, as usual, in church. He was glad for the solitude, but not for these thoughts. First they came as a trickle, then they formed a stream, then a rushing river, leading to an irresistible flood.

He ran to the TV for relief—nothing on, not even a football game. He flipped by several religious programs and cartoons, and finally to Discovery Channel, where he could usually find a reassuring nature documentary. Instead, he heard about the imminent destruction of fragile rain forests in Papua-New Guinea and the threatened extinction of exotic species.

It was unfair. The "buts" were ganging up on him. Every time he thought about something beautiful, a "but" popped into his consciousness. He went over the week ahead in his mind, trying to focus on the things he usually anticipated with pleasure, and each one had a "but" scribbled over it.

Maybe he could get out of this pit if he concentrated on his family, the people who really cared about him. And as he brought each of them to mind, across their faces he saw another "but." After all they were in church, the one experience he didn't share with them. Instead of finding comfort from their emotional closeness, he felt a great distance, as if they were on another planet, a God planet, where he had never been.

And a wave came over him. Something that felt like nostalgia, or deja vu, or...

"Get a hold of yourself, Sandy!" said the psychologist part of him. "This must be a panic attack or something. Take a few deep breaths, think about the Gettysburg Address: ‘Fourscore and seven years ago...' " It was no use; he couldn't remember the rest.

"I feel like I'm shrinking, smaller than ever," a little Smidge-voice inside him squeaked. "And dirtier, and darker," the quivering Smudge-voice whispered.

"Wait! This is nonsense!" he proclaimed out loud. "Smidge, Smudge—that's all in the past. I dealt with those inappropriate feelings in therapy. I'm a respected psychologist!"

It seemed as if the words echoed off the walls, so that he heard them over and over again: "I'm a respected psychologist. I'm a respected psychologist." And then there was silence.

After several seconds of nothingness, the truth of what was happening came to Sandy with absolute clarity. He was face to face with God. There was no Dr. Samuelson in this moment. There was only a strange helpless little creature, a caricature of a human being, a twisting together of Smidge and Smudge. And as he stood in God's presence, he seemed to be getting smaller and dirtier all the time. There were no words. He was undone.

But ... (now, here was a welcome "but") He was still there. God had not zapped him into non-existence or sent him straight to hell-fire. Puny, disgusting as he was, God still focused his attention on him. God seemed to care.

Sandy was embarrassed. The faceless, voiceless presence of God seemed to know him thoroughly, with all his worst qualities exposed. And the surprise was that God did not turn away from him, as insignificant (Smidge) or as insulting (Smudge) as he was. Instead, he felt as if the Divine presence had turned his back on the entire infinite universe to aim a laser beam of love directly at his heart. And Sandy exploded!

That was the word he used later in the day when he tried to describe to Barbara the moment of his conversion. "Exploded?" she said; "But you're still here." "Yes," said Sandy. "That's the point. I'm here more than I've ever been here. I didn't explode into nothing; I exploded into something."

When he shared his experience with Pastor Steve, the pastor went over it all with him theologically, using Bible passages to explain sin, and salvation, and the new birth, and accepting Jesus as your Savior. It all made some kind of sense, but it would take a long time in Bible study and thought before his head would catch up with his heart. Right now, he knew God had overwhelmed him, entered into his inner self, become unified with him, transformed him.

Smidge and Smudge sat on a rocker in his head and listened as Dr. Samuelson stood behind a lectern and tried to translate all this into psychological terms. Most of it fit; some of it didn't. Smidge and Smudge weren't clear on what their future was, but somehow they knew it would be all right, because God was in charge.

–Pastor George Van Alstine