Possible Impossibilities

Every Sunday morning after each worship service at our church men and women make themselves available to pray with those who feel they need prayer. They position themselves on one side of the platform, in the forward area of the sanctuary, waiting for folks to come up. About every third month I am one of the designates assigned to pray with folks (not a job, but a privilege). In the year and half or so that I've done this I might have had one or two people come and ask me to pray with them. I always find this odd, wondering why there are so few takers to respond to the gospel message spoken that day and ask God to change their hearts to be more like His. Perhaps more people come on the months that I'm not up front, but I don't think so. Truth be known, I seldom take advantage of it myself when I'm not the one leading prayer that week or month, probably because I find myself too busy, too distracted, or just too disinterested. Shame on me, really... shame - wasted power and wasted intimacy with Jesus that is oftentimes even more profound when in prayer presence with others that are in love with Him than when alone.

This last Sunday, however, as I stood up front with another musician from the worship team (it was my rotation for prayer), I noticed that an elderly woman that usually comes on Sunday morning for deaf interpretation (in order to worship with others) was still seated near the area where we're supposed to meet for prayer. Her interpreter, the wife a very dear minister in our church, came over and began to speak to me and my fellow band member (prayer partner). While the three of us were talking to one another, I noticed the elderly woman waving her hands and arms trying to get our attention. The interpreter turned around and began to sign with her, and then she looked over at us and said that she (the elder) wanted us to be sure to remember her in prayer because she had recently undergone cancer chemotherapy treatments and the arthritis in her hands had flared up something terribly as a side effect from the toxins. You could see each of her two crumpled hands, like cups, almost permanently molded into place with fingers dangling as if they had no mobility or flexibility at all. She went on to explain that she loves to sew and knit, and that her current condition prohibited her from doing that and even other basic, routine things necessary for life (like signing). I got the impression that she just wanted us to remember her in prayer throughout the week - not necessarily wanting prayer right then; we just happened to be in her eye shot that Sunday morning. I told the interpreter that we should just pray right now. After all, that's why we were there, and we certainly had no takers yet, nor did it look like we were going to get any. The two of us walked over, knelt down by her side, with each of us gingerly holding a hand as she held them out in front of her. We closed our eyes and prayed while she kept her eyes open so she could see the interpreter standing next to us sign our prayers in her presence. We must have each prayed for three or four minutes - tender, soft spoken prayers that just seemed to be from the Spirit. Sometimes I feel that way when I pray, not often enough mind you, but sometimes I just sense that there's something supernatural happening that God's been gracious enough to let me experience in that moment rather than my usual prayers where I don't feel any power at all. I know prayer is not all about feelings, but when you do feel His supernatural influence, why that's just a special moment with Him. All else around me seems to disappear in those instances, and this was one of them.

When we finished our prayers and opened our eyes, we both looked up at this dear soul and cold see her silently weeping tears on a face that just looked so perfectly angelic. Her mouth had the shape of a frown but signaled the shape of joy and peace. The outer corner of her eyes were turned downward, and her rosy, glossy wet cheeks glistened against the reflection of the overhead lights. Since I was already moved by the Spirit, seeing her face cracked the jar of my emotions so that the flood could spill. I couldn't help but just put my head in one hand while I held her other and cry. I cried for her because I just knew that there would come a day when her hands would be new again. I tried to envision her in heaven, with me, and in my amazement beaming with joy that what she once enjoyed so freely in her youth she could freely enjoy forever, only this time even more, and also with ears to hear and a voice to praise. Few words were exchanged after that moment, and we knelt there for another three to four minutes while she signed a few more things. We all hugged and then left for the afternoon.

So why do I post about this experience in our simple little family blog? Because few things this week have captured my heart and mind like this. I've thought about it all week long. All can think about is her face, and all I can also think about is how beautifully content I was when I was at her side. These draw me in like a magnetic pull that's simply beyond constraint. These are the moments and these are the times when I think to myself that it simply doesn't get any better than this. More than anything else in my entire life I've found myself desirous to be in the presence of those who are not among the mainstream of life. These are the ones that I often feel are manna from heaven to those like me who are gasping to be set free from all that's seemingly desirable. I know Victoria feels this way a lot; we're both wired by God in the same fashion. It's not a higher calling. No, it's the only calling for us. Sometimes we feel that we've wasted so much, seeking things here that distract us from what's coming there.

I've now finished hearing all eight (8) sermons from Brook Hills Church (referenced in an earlier blog entry), entitled Radical: What the Gospel Demands. I was reminded then and hear now the words of Jesus in Mark 10, Verse 27, when He said, "With people it is impossible, but not with God; for all things are possible with God." So what's impossible with me? The heart that forever beats for the lame, the poor, the blind, the deaf, the mute, the orphans, the sick, the widows, and the lost. These are the ones that Jesus' heart beats for, but mine is enticed and in love with the world. So I've asked God to do the impossible with Victoria and me (and all of our children) but the ever so possible with Him,... to give us more of a heart like His, but give it to us faster. I believe it's beating more in rhythm, but I (and Victoria) desire perfect synchronization. These we seek not for our own, but for His.

Hear us now, Lord.