Hope Depends On Us
Today’s reading: 1 John 3:18-22
My boss at the small newspaper where I was a reporter met all of us employees at the door one day in 1999 with some startling news.
“I am very far behind on payroll taxes. The I.R.S. may be coming here today to seize the building and everything inside. I advise you to go in and get anything that belongs to you. The paper is closed. Good luck to you all.”
This was a shock.
For as long as I worked there, the paper had carried plenty of advertising, (in fact, sometimes we had trouble finding room in an issue for all the ads that had been sold) and subscription sales were steadily improving. The operation had a reputation for being one of the classiest and most stable small newspapers in Texas. So the closing was a tragedy, to say the least. (Several of us later learned that its demise was due the boss’s gambling habit, which was far worse than we had known.)
Not knowing what else to do, a few friends and I contacted some of the former paper’s advertisers, and we had a new publication on the streets within about a month. The new paper’s headquarters was my 1 bedroom apartment, and we published it entirely on my outdated, very slow, computer.
We distributed more than 10,000 free copies that first day (one for every residence in the city). And my telephone answering machine tape was already full when I returned home for a lunch break from the delivery work. Congratulatory calls, along with requests for ad space, came pouring in for days. The new publication was a hit!
Our crazy little shoestring operation grew very quickly. We had a nice office within two weeks, and the paper soon became a livelihood for several people. (Actually, we turned the back of the office into a living quarters for half a dozen people who stayed there informally as they worked on the paper. Since we still could not afford to pay actually salaries, we just kept the kitchen well stocked, and gave everyone who worked there a small bit of cash each week to buy cigarettes and such. We called it our “journalistic commune.”)
But after about 2 months, things started getting tense.
The paper began diving into controversial issues, and, though we always strove for fairness, some advertisers were uncomfortable with our “direction.” At a time when we needed to increase our advertising prices in order to start finally paying salaries, many companies began pulling their ads.
And then people who were the target of our journalistic investigations began quiet retaliations (in one case I ended up with a speeding ticket from a nearby city that I had never visited).
And the tensions mounted.
Because we were still a new operation, the printing company we hired wouldn’t offer us credit on the $2,000 per week bill. One week, we were $1,000 short, so we dipped into our meager reserves to stay afloat. The next week we were $1,500 short, and that depleted our reserves.
The next week our best advertising sales person told me she was discouraged at all the businesses who were dropping their ads. By Wednesday, she just stopped showing up at the office. We sold no ads that week.
A supporter of the paper offered enough money to print for at least another 2 weeks, and I accepted that blessing.
But even he became disillusioned as we still had difficulty selling ads.
And finally the bank that had given me a small loan to cover cash flow — so that we could afford to sell ads to large companies that would take weeks to pay — called asking for the money back sooner than it was due.
“We’re concerned that you’re using the money to stay afloat rather than to simply cover cash flow, so we’re protecting our interests,” the banker said.
That’s when I called it quits.
We scrounged enough money, mostly from my dear mother, to pay back the loan and to publish one last “hiatus” issue. I promised that the paper would be back, just as soon as we had secured adequate capital.
But, even as I made the promise, I was planning to leave town.
Our phone began ringing steadily once the last issue was on the streets. We had plenty of support. The paper had thousands of fans! Dozens of people sent me messages saying they would consider investing money in it’s rebirth.
The mood around the “commune” was very optimistic. Everyone was ready to start working on a business plan, so we could get some money behind us and get back to publishing as quickly as possible.
But I had other ideas.
I was exhausted.
I called my mother and asked if I could come back home to stay for a while.
She said yes.
I just disappeared from the paper.
Three weeks later, I went back to the office in the middle of the night with a U-haul truck. I was grateful to find that no one was there. I loaded the truck, thoroughly cleaned the office, left an angry letter attached to the front door (blaming everyone but myself for the paper’s demise) and left the office keys in the landlord’s mailbox.
My little newspaper was closed. A new chapter of my life began.
I often reminisce about these days and regret that I gave up too soon. Those thoughts came to mind again this morning as I pondered today’s reading.
“Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God; and we receive from him whatever we ask, because we obey his commandments and do what pleases him.” (Verses 21-22)
I say I was “exhausted” after we printed the last issue of this paper. But the real problem was that my heart had condemned me. I lost the boldness before God that had allowed my friends and me to start the newspaper against such odds and with such a flourish.
I did not trust my talents, and I certainly did not trust God. So I passed up a glorious opportunity. I see now that God had been waiting to answer my prayers. But I proved unable to do my part.
Alas, life goes on.I am learning, and I am growing. It’s exciting to realize my little paper’s hiatus could come to an end one day after all. All it would take is my decision to go for it. I now know that, with God, I am much more powerful than I realize.
Thanks be to God for having more faith in me than I have in myself. May I (and we) learn to always trust that faith.