Amazing Chapel

She entered our classroom after we had already heard two hours of lecture, assuring us that we would get a much needed break after chapel. Petite, blond, and quiet, she began by handing out a hymn for us to sing together. O God, our help in ages past. Most of us knew it, though not all.

Then she began reading her testimony. It was heartrending to hear of her struggles. She placed them in the context of Psalm 88, a Psalm of disorientation that ends in darkness instead of the usual resolution, the part where God saves and restores. Judy's husband, a faithful minister of many years, was diagnosed with an aggressive brain cancer. They pursued every course of help they could, prayed and believed that God would heal him, would let him overcome the disease. They had tons of people praying for them, support like nobody's business, faith to know that everything would be fine. God would save.

He continued to preach throughout his treatment, sitting when he could no longer stand, memorizing when he could no longer read. He remained faithful, believing, confident. And he died nine months later. That same year, within months of her husband's death, Judy experienced other family crises. Car accidents, miscarriages, floods, disaster after disaster until she felt like Job. It was unbearable. How could she go on? Where was God? She didn't even bother with the 'why me' question.

Years have passed since that season of her life. Ten years. She has changed the direction of her life in ways she could never have imagined. She is working with Aids victims in Africa now, and realizes her compassion for their darkness is born of her own experience of darkness. God did not prevent, but God did not leave her. God did not take away the darkness, God went into it with her.

She is now married again and serving with her husband, about to return to Africa, to extend God's hand of love to those for whom there is no answer, no cure, no return from disaster. And she understands. She is amazed. She shares her faith because we are on a path to minister to others whose lives may be darkness that will not be turned to light in this world.

Do not try to force happy endings. Do not predict where and how God will move. Point instead to the fact that you do not understand everything, do not have the answers. But you know God and He is faithful. He will never leave you. He will make a way for you. Believe.

And we sang again O God our help - this time with a different understanding.

The Write Stuff

Another Monday, this one a catch up day. I was glad to have some time in the morning before needing to get to work because I still had to write that paper for class, a comparison of prophet, wise man, and psalmist. With all the travel, the conversations, the church activities, the tiredness, I just hadn't found time to do it. So after carpool, I resisted the urge to go back to bed, and sat at the computer, praying. God, please let this thing go together smoothly. Give me the words, the thoughts, the flow to make it happen in a very short time.

Generally it takes about an hour per page to collect all the readings, compare them, think about stuff, write, rewrite, edit, then footnote. But I didn't have an hour a page for the five page paper. I had three hours. Three hours to ignore the stacks of laundry and dirty dishes, to forget about the huge black flies that had somehow made their way into the apartment while I was away (I had already killed a dozen, but there were still a few left buzzing about irritating me). I didn't want this to be less than my best effort, but the deadline was firm. Turn it in, no exceptions!

So I opened my eyes and began. Just get stuff down, worry about flow and comprehensive coverage later. And for goodness sake, don't even THINK about footnotes until after your reference shift tonight at 9. You can make it pretty then. So I wrote. And as I wrote, God opened my brain and poured thoughts in that I needed. There was sudden insight, unique ideas, remembrances of things said in lecture that I hadn't written down. Yes, God was definitely enabling me.

I had hoped to get to the bank before heading out to work, but that didn't happen. I wrote right up to the moment I had to leave for work, and I just managed to complete the assignment except for correcting the footnotes. I would read it over again at night after my workday ended, fix a few sequence problems, tighten up the verbiage, and get the footnotes settled. Wow! I should always write that way. Its so much easier than wracking my brain and trying to be clever. Perhaps its a good thing to experience a time crunch. It makes you discover better ways of doing things.

Confirmation

Six young people had taken the pastor's class over the last twelve weeks. Six young people stood ready to profess their faith in Christ and make their commitment to the church. They had practiced taking part in the service, each one ready to read a Scripture, lead a prayer, play an offertory. The air was filled with anticipation at this special event, this milestone in their lives. Family and friends had come, cameras flashed everywhere.

The confirmands were dressed all grown up, the girls had their hair upswept and fastened with delicate pins and clips. The dresses were prom worthy, the suits for the guys stiff and new. Shoes were shined, faces glowed as they proudly took their place in the first row, each young adult seated with his or her mentor and sponsor.

They performed their parts of the service admirably. The choir sang a special piece called Order My Steps. And then it was time for the ceremony. They rose from their pew and moved forward to the altar rail, nervous but somehow confident. The pastor read the vows, the group responding 'I do' and 'I will' as did the congregation, promising to oversee the spiritual growth of these brave people. Then each one kneeled to receive the pastor's prayer. The sponsor stood beside them, receiving a lighted candle from the pastor to remind them that they will continue to be God's light to their confirmand.

The pastor slipped a cross necklace about each one's neck. Hugs all around as we sang them welcome. It was a rite of passage. No longer would these people come forward for the children's sermon. No longer would they be excluded from communion. They have come of age, made their personal choice, been made a part of the fold. It was extremely touching. I do not often have opportunity to mark such milestones. I remember when I was 12 and stood before the church in Johnstown, reconfessing my own faith in Christ. Now I am in seminary, still learning about Him. I am touched by the continuity of faith, excited for these who are just beginning their journeys. I have to admit, a few tears slid down my face. This is a good thing.