The next night I attended the wake of my ex-collegue and prayer partner's 88 year old father. Uncle B has been suffering from illness for several years. I have only visited him 3 or 4 times max over the past 2 years. We would talk, he somewhat belabored because of his ailing heart. But he would tell me there was nothing left in this world for him to continue living for, because he had done everything that needed to be done regarding his family and he had not hurt or caused any harm to anybody. When I asked him if he thought that was enough to get him to heaven when he died, he said he just wanted to go where his (deceased) mom was, wherever that may be. Such is the depth of filial love - he didn't much care for heaven but rather for the woman who gave birth to him. Which is why I was rather surprised he actually agreed to accept Jesus when I asked him on one particular visit. As it was, my friend told me he still kept talking about dying and going to be with his mom. I have to confess, like my friend, humanly we both had our doubts about the 'authenticity' of the old man's faith - God, forgive us. Our reasoning is most likely he mouthed the words just to please me or his family, since we were always telling him how good and great the love of Christ is. That was how things stood with uncle B, right through his illness which got worse through the years till it necessitated admission into intensive care recently.
From what my friend tells me, her father suffered much physically, so much so in his delirium he asked for a knife to kill himself. When denied, he blamed the family for not letting him die. And then the miracle happened.... finally ....on his own accord, he said it... "I let my mother go... Jesus, take me home". After his discharge from hospital, I was supposed to visit him to say a last good-bye later in the afternoon. But that very morning, my friend messaged me that dear uncle B's last wish had been fulfilled by a faithful, merciful God who always answers at just the right time. At the wake, through tears, the family all spoke of the joy of knowing their loved one was safe in the arms of Jesus. And I cried with them, sharing the same joy, content that I had played even that very small part in uncle B's life.
2 stories, 2 men, one fearing death, the other chasing after it. Seemingly random unconnected events, but not quite really, as I think over what happened, I realize that many times, it's not God who won't or can't show up, rather it's we who stop Him from being real in our lives. Because of the 'stuff' we hang on to and won't let go, be it things, rights, opinions, feelings, habits, attitudes, people (even dead ones)... all the 'baggage' we carry around, quite unconsciously, that blocks us off from the One who really wants us to prosper well in body, soul and spirit. And then we 'blame' God for not showing up in front of our eyes when we demand it, when it's we who's standing in His way. Truth is unless we choose to surrender, to yield and be 'soft' towards the Lover and Beloved of our soul, we will have a hard time believing and trusting in the divine or the miraculous. We would not even want to bother to know Him, we would write God off as just a 'religion' which as one quote brags is just a 'crutch for the weak.' I know, because I was one of those who had neither need nor inclination to believe in anything except myself...
Until I was broken, watching my husband die over the course of 2 long years. It will be 16 years this April since his passing. Paradoxically it's only when I 'break', that I can receive the healing to be made whole again. No longer do I think of it as a passing 'away' into the meaningless emptiness of death, but I rest assured it's a passing 'into glory' of an eternal life, completely free from all worldly cares, suffering and pain. The faith I now enjoy was birthed only when I admitted I was wrong - about God, about myself. Only when I let go of my attachments did I catch hold of something bigger, something better which I now understand God had already prepared and made available, specially to and for me.
I am still learning to let go some more in this journey called life on earth. It sounds easy, but it's not, because it means saying no to my own pleasures and desires, sometimes even going against all the rational logic of my own mind. But the sacrifice is a small price to pay compared to the joy of having a very real, personal God in my life to love, honor, trust and obey, knowing that at the end of this road, there is an even greater joy waiting - to be greeted by those who have gone on first...my husband, uncle B, my friends from the street, people who have called upon the same name I call upon everyday - the sweet name of Jesus, which means simply "Salvation". And indeed how great a Salvation He is, who gives to all who believe an everlasting Hope, grounded not on what we can do, but on what He has done, sacrificing His own life at the cross, so that none may perish.
As the days count down to the season of Passover, when thousands of years ago, the angel of death passed over God's people, whose house doors were marked by the blood of a sacrificial lamb, and God's own mighty hand parted the Red Sea so they could safely cross whilst their enemies were swamped thereunder, I will greet Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday with a grateful heart that I, together with countless others, have crossed over from slavery into true freedom, made possible by the blood of Christ shed for the world.... To Him is rightly due all glory, honor, power and praise forever and ever.
"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound" -Isaiah 61:1
