The Righteousness of God, Part 2
The Righteousness of God, Part 2
Park Street Church recently, I made it a point to look for a bronze plaque bearing the inscription, “Joseph S. Olzewski S.K. 2/c U.S.C. Lost February 3, 1943 North Atlantic.” I did this because of a remarkable personal experience that Allan Emery relates in his book A Turtle on a Fencepost. The day after Pearl Harbor, Emery, like thousands of others, enlisted—his choice being the Coast Guard. He was immediately put to work in his hometown, Boston, as a quartermaster, and he was given the Friday night duty of guarding one of the wharfs. On one particular Friday he had wisely decided to get some sleep before duty and was in his bunk resting when one of his new acquaintances, Joseph Olzewski, came by in immaculate dress blues—his hat squared, piping on his snow-white cuffs, his shoes spit-shined. He gave his biggest smile and asked Emery how he looked. Emery replied that he looked great and asked what the big event was. Joe excitedly explained that at the USO the previous night a wealthy girl had invited him to spend the weekend at her apartment on Beacon Hill. She was going to take him to the opera that night and had plenty of records and alcohol. He didn’t have to be back until 0700 Monday morning. He ended the story by saying, “This is going to be the greatest time of my life.” Emery replied that he would be praying for him. His friend walked out but immediately reentered asking, “What did you say?”
“I said I’d be praying for you,” replied Emery.
“Why will you be praying for me when I’m going to have the first great weekend in my life?”
“Because, Joe, Monday morning you’ll be back aboard ship and you will not be the same person you are tonight. Sin leaves its mark.”
Joe swore at Emery and went out into the night.
Emery prayed for Joe as he prepared for guard duty. And he was startled when an unsmiling and agitated Joe suddenly reappeared in the guard post floodlights.
“How can you have a good time when someone’s praying for you?” he said. “You’ve ruined my weekend. I stood up my date, and I’ve been waiting until you came on duty. Now tell me how to find God.”
That night Joseph S. Olzewski heard for the very first time in his life the promises of God—and he believed. The change was immediate. He joined Park Street Church, spent his free time on the Common inviting other servicemen to services, prayed with his buddies at St. Paul’s Cathedral which was always open, and grew in his knowledge of the Scriptures under Dr. Harold Ockenga. Then on February 1, 1943 he volunteered for sea duty on a mine sweeper headed for Iceland, and just a few days out of New York a torpedo found its mark.
Stories like this motivate me! They have a way of clearing the fog away and allowing those things which are truly important to appear. My feelings are something like Snoopy in a Peanuts cartoon. Linus had just thrown a stick for Snoopy to retrieve. His first instinct was to chase the stick. But he paused a few moments and decided against it. “I want people to have more to say about me after I’m gone than ‘He was a nice guy … he chased sticks.’” When I am reminded of the gospel’s power to change lives, I am motivated to stop “chasing sticks” and get back to what is really important.