Sunday Afternoon

               I love Sunday afternoons, especially in May.  The weather is pleasant and there are lots of opportunities for outdoor recreation.  Yesterday as I was walking out of church, a friend and I were casually discussing our plans for the afternoon.   I was contemplating whether I should finish painting my bedroom or take my new bike for a ride on the shady river path.   My heart was light as I contemplated my pleasant choices for the day.  It did not occur to me to that God had other plans for my afternoon.

My heart was overflowing with joy because of the wonderful worship service we had just completed.   God’s presence is so real to me during our worship services.   At our church, Quest Church, we have been doing a series on the Holy Spirit.   In yesterday’s message, my friend, Jessica, spoke on role of the Holy Spirit in our lives.  The bottom line of the message was this:  The Holy Spirit comes not just for me, not just for us (the church), but for THEM (the world).   The Holy Spirit comes so that we can be filled and then reach out in love to a hurting world.   I do have a heart for missions, but I had no idea that I was about to be involved in a very personal, painful mission on that sunny Sunday afternoon. 

 http://www.thequestonline.com/

I made my decision – eat my lunch – then take my bike to the bike path near the river and enjoy my afternoon.   As I sat on the sofa eating my lunch, I began to sense an all too familiar nudge from the Holy Spirit:  Go to the hospital to see Carol.    Earlier that morning, I had found out that my long time friend’s husband was in the ICU unit and not expected to live much longer.   Over the years, I have learned to respond when I get these nudges from the Holy Spirit.  During the years of Glen’s illness, there were many times when I received a similar nudge:  Go to the hospital.  And every time – every single time - when I did go to the hospital – there was a reason. 

And so, I responded to the nudge and went to the hospital to see Carol and her husband, Joe.   When I stopped at the front desk to ask for directions to Joe’s room, I was told that Joe had just been taken off life support.   As I was escorted to the waiting room to see the family, familiar memories began to flood my heart.  I remember being the wife – I remember sitting at Heaven’s Gate – knowing that my spouse would soon enter through the Gate - wondering what my life would be like as a widow.  

When I entered Joe’s room and greeted the family, I felt like I was standing on Holy Ground.  I knew that I had entered into God’s appointed time for my afternoon.  Carol and I have wonderful  history together.   Joe and Carol walked the long journey of illness with Glen and me.   They came in the middle of the night, they came on Saturday mornings, they came on Thanksgiving Day.   They offered support when I no longer had strength to persevere. They interceded on our behalf, and they entered into our pain.   Carol and Joe came to the hospital and stood with me beside Heaven’s Gate as we said goodbye to Glen.

  It was painful to sit with my friend.  Painful because of the flood of memories of sitting with Glen as he died.   Painful because I know the difficult road that she will walk in the next couple of months.  Painful because I loved my friend Joe.    He and Glen were best friends.  They shared a very unusual sense of humor which was multiplied exponentially when they were together.   There was pain, yes.  But, in the moments of standing by Heaven’s gate, we also shared laughter and hope.  Laughter that Joe and Glen are now complete in the arms of Jesus.

  Revelation 21:4:  “He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”  That specific scripture was fresh on my heart as I sat with Joe and Carol’s family because we had used that same scripture in the kid’s Sunday School lesson earlier in the day.

In the pain, in the laughter, it was my joy to sit with Carol and her family.  Joy because I am learning to live a new life.  Still struggling, yes.  But also seeing more and more the power of Christ’s redemptive love in my life.   God has reached into the sorrow which I experienced during Glen’s illness and death.  He has given me a new song to sing.   A new song which I will share with anyone and everyone I meet along the journey.  And it seems that more often than not, I have opportunities to share God’s redemption with people who are bound by the uncertainty of critical illness.

The love of Christ is the source of strength that binds us together…. in the hospital ICU unit….through years of friendship…..through our own journey towards the Gate of Heaven.

1 Corinthians 13:13

“And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three, and the greatest of these is love.”

God Bless you, Joe – my friend.  Say hello to Glen for me.