The ongoing journey of prayer

I have been wanting to blog all week and it has been difficult to find time. As Bill Hybels said, Too busy not to blog. Okay, he said, too busy not too pray, and he didn't say it, it was a title of a book he wrote.

I was thinking the other day of my first experience with prayer beyond what my mother and father taught me. As a little boy I prayed "Now I lay me down to sleep...". I can't remember as a teenager what I prayed except when I had that "horrendous night" where I decided to give myself back to Jesus. That was a desperate prayer. I had been frightened by where my life was headed. God must have taken it seriously because I know he began to bless my life very quickly thereafter.

What I remembered the other day, that first experience, was when I returned home from my lifechanging experience at Red Rock Bible Camp. Christians my own age and who were sincere about Jesus! Go figure. I remember the 5 or 6 of us who had come from Winnipeg. We found it hard to leave each other. Coming down from a mountaintop experience is excruciatingly difficult. Our group of 30 some teenagers who had truly felt the Holy Spirit move among us thought that we had found something that would never die. So when we got off the bus at Braeside, my home church, we had one final prayer. And this is the thing: I can't remember what I prayed. Or how I prayed.

When I prayed recently and thought about what I said to God it occured to me that I had grown in my expression. How, I don't know. I think back then I asked for ridiculous things. But at the same time they were asked in such faith and such assurance that how I asked was not important. Now I have the words but sometimes I don't have the faith of those early days. And yet my faith is so theologically sound now. I wish I had the zeal of those early years, those early days. But I am so thankful that the words, the requests, the expression of praise, the petition is so much better. I just hope it is not eloquence that impresses me. God doesn't need fancy words, he needs the sincerity that I discovered at Red Rock.

Death and Dying

My nephew (Sharon's sister's boy) passed away February 28. He was 10, had autism and a seizure disorder, and a unique character. I didn't know him as well as others did. His TAs and helpers revealed a side of him that I never knew. We taught our children to fear him. Now that does not sound politically correct but the fact is he was a biter. When he felt out of control or in a strange environment he acted out by biting. We feared for our children in the face of this violence. What's more we had our own young ones to look after and we did not have the time to get involved with someone else's child. Well all excuses aside this is how it was.

Despite the things I am telling you there were a lot of tears at the funeral. Rightly so. Here was a human being who was loved and appreciated despite his limitations. He was entitled to love and tributes just like any other person whose name is not Hitler or Stalin or Hussein. No he was not even close to such villains. He was a misunderstood little boy because of a condition that kept him from expressing himself in a way that revealed his true feelings. I shared this scripture with the assembled family and friends that day: "Share each other's burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ. If you think you are too important to help someone, you are only fooling yourself. You are not that important...So let's not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don't give up" (Galatians 6:3,9). In other words, Jonah needed us to love him whether he deserved it or not.

Now he is gone and my theology of death kicks in. I have come to terms with my mortality in recent years and with what to hope for in the next life. Many people struggle with or have no comprehension or desire to think of death. At one point in my life I thought about it a lot. I was sure I was going to die instantly in those days, possibly from a heart attack, and I was afraid. My fear was irrational but God used it to explore my understanding of death. Many things come to mind for some of us when we think of our dying. One thing is the sorrow our deaths would cause for those who love us. I obsessed over this and thought how terrible it would be if I died. I cannot tell you how much this thought possessed me and caused me to fear my own death. Another thing was the pain that would come with dying. I have read again and again Woody Allen's quip that he wasn't afraid of dying, he just didn't want to be there when it happened. I felt the same way. Especially when it came to the pain. But there isn't always pain involved with dying. If you fear it then every little twinge of pain, every little tweak of a muscle, makes you think this is it "It's the big one Elizabeth."

I am not afraid of dying anymore. I'll tell you why: When I went through my face to face argument with death I forgot the essence of my faith - the resurrection of Jesus Christ. I also forgot that God takes care of people in ways beyond our human inability to do so. My friend Ang is a testament to the fact that God takes care of people when their spouses die prematurely. She has had hard times but friends and family have helped her through some times. Her faith has grown in this time without Ken. She is a stronger, more vibrant person having come through this fire. So why should I fear for my wife and daughter should I happen to die? I cannot control those events anymore than I can stop the hair from falling out of my scalp. So the question comes down to me and death. And what does death have on me? Nothing! If I die I die in the LORD. If I live I live in the LORD. To live is Christ; to die is gain. I will awaken in the new Kingdom of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Now as for a funeral like Jonah's...I did not cry. I was sure that Jonah, due to his inability to speak or comprehend Christ, that God is gracious and took him to his new room in the kingdom. I am not saying I will never cry at funerals. Good friends have gone on before me and I knew I would miss them. Certainly if Sharon died I would cry for days and weeks. But no, I don't normally cry at funerals, in part because I do so many of them (well, more than the average person), in part because of my theology about heaven and Jesus, but mostly because I am not afraid of death. It is a natural portal to the next life. If we cry we cry because of separation. We may cry because of tragedy. To have witnessed a death must be horrible; to see a person's life taken from them through accident or violence would be traumatic. The death of the elderly or the sick - I am not often led to cry. I have hope that if the person was a believer that I will see them again and for now, they are safe in the promise of Christ.

This life is but the title page or cover of a book. The real story begins when we all get to heaven.