God's Hair Club

The older I get, the less vain I get about losing my hair. Don't pat me on the back or admire me, because it's more about concession rather than conceit. It is a losing battle! Of course, I've gotten things a bit backward since most men turn gray before they turn loose, but for me it's been just the opposite. Sandy noticed quite a few flecks of gray at my temples yesterday. Can one be distinguishingly gray and bald at the same time? That's a conundrum for another day, I imagine.

I have noticed something about my hair of late. It's beginning to grow again. No, not what you think. I haven't discovered some new cream or gel or pill that will jump-start your hibernating locks but this is just as exciting for me. I guess I need to explain.

A number of years ago I heard a sermon relating to Samson and the after-effects of his departure from the Lord. Though a tragic figure, there is a scriptural gem that shines against the bleak background of Samson's life. There he was in the threshinghouse, now with hollowed sockets where proud eyes once dwelt, chained to a post and trudging in infinite circles, grinding out the wheat for his captors. Each day he heard the laughter and endured the scorn. "Praise our gods!" they bellowed. "Yours is dead but our gods have triumphed!"

Each laborious step from the humiliated hero sounded the woeful cadence of failure, shame and regret. His scalp, chopped unmercifully, ragged and butchered and running with blood boasted precious few sprouts of hair here and there. The glory had departed. The crown had fallen from his head.

Each day he wished they would just kill him and get it over with. Each day brought more humiliation and reminders of what he had and what now was lost. But, with arms powerless to break loose of his bands and ghastly sockets running with ooze, his broken heart began to seek the Lord. The merciful One looked upon His exiled servant with pity as He heard the symphonic strains of that penitent soul. Wiped away in one glorious infinitesimal speck of time were the years of rebellion and the miles of philanderings. The ledgers, once filled with the horrific smudges of sins, were erased with a mighty swipe of God's righteous Hand! And then, just to shut the mouths of the accusers, the most amazing thing happened:

"…and the hair of his head began to grow again…" (Judges 16:22)

We know that his hair did not give him strength but it surely symbolized God's powerful Hand upon him. When the hair was shorn, it indicated that the Spirit of the Lord had withdrawn Himself. Ah, but when the hair began to grow back–oh yes! When sprigs of hair pushed through the surface of that barren scalp–the Philistines must have sensed a change of order was forthcoming! And indeed it was. This tortured soul became victor once again as God raised the roof and brought the house down!

Some weeks ago I had begun to notice that I was drifting from the Lord. My "wood was wet" so to speak. I knew that I was permanently indwelt by the Spirit of God and that He does not come and go at will, but I also knew that I was capable of drifting away from the warming coals of God and toward the shadows of self-will and deceit. And indeed I had. But as I look back now, with joy, I have seen that my "hair" has begun to grow again! A fire has returned, spiritual eyes have refocused and my heart palpitates with the very Life of God.

Perhaps you have detected a cold front heading in your direction. Or perhaps a cooling in your heart. That mournful breeze can feel like an arctic blast across a baldened head! Hey, we've all been members of God's Hair Club from time to time! And, I would suspect, we'll rejoin again sooner or later (let's pray later!). Why not let the grace of God massage life back into that dome of yours. Pray for spiritual sight restoration. Are you tired yet of trudging on and getting nowhere? Sick of the crunch of failure beneath your feet? The mocking laughter of the enemy all around you? Do what Samson did. Turn to your Deliverer and be free. Get rid of the toupee. It looks silly on you anyway.

Are those hair plugs I see coming through your scalp? Praise God! Before long you'll be needing a comb.