Teach me to dwell within Thy calm:
Amy Carmichael
WOW! Sometimes God allows us to step back for just a moment and get a perspective on the things that really matter. Over the last few weeks, I have heard myself say on several occasions, "I just haven't been able to get to that yet. I have been sooo busy." In the past few days, God has shown me that if I'm too busy for some things, then I'm just too busy and I need to reset my priorities. Let me explain.
On Friday, I had a visit from a couple of old friends. They had been members of the church I pastored in Oklahoma City. While they were very dear to our hearts, their family was a constant source of difficulty. Sin, pride, abuse and turmoil were their family legacy and as their Pastor, I was right in the middle of it. The strife impacted three generations and the consequences will continue to be dealt with for years to come. I had only recently received a call from their present pastor about new turmoil and the possibility of more problems. Then last week, I got a call that the father had been diagnosed with a terminal liver disease and that he had only 3 months to live. When I called to console them, they asked if they could come for a visit. They wanted to share with me what God had been doing in their life recently.
As the day of their visit approached, I wondered what I would say. The hope that we find in Christ is wonderful, but it is easy to seem callous or flippant when we disregard the obvious turmoil that death brings.
Heaven is real and the relief from suffering that it offers is sweet, but we are often conflicted by the pain of separation that those who are left behind will have to endure.
When the couple arrived at our home, I was surprised to find them upbeat and joyful. As they shared with me the events of the past couple of months, there was a peace that I had never seen in their eyes before. They told me of the work that God had been doing in them even before the diagnosis had been given and of how the Lord had worked things out so that their family could face this trial with grace rather than with dread.
Longstanding hurts and unforgiveness had been dealt with. The father, whose prideful self-will had brought about a controlling harshness, had acknowledged not only the sinfulness of his outward actions toward his children and his wife, but also the underlying spirit that continued to wound those that he loved and cared for.
What I saw when I looked at this couple were two people who were rejoicing in what God had done and trusting Him for what the future holds. When the subject of his impending death came up, the answer was simple, straight-forward and confident. "How can we be sad about the fact that He is going to be with Jesus? His sorrow and pain will be over."
The two of them left on Saturday intending to take the backroads home and find a romantic spot to spend the evening and just enjoy some of the time that they had left together. I found myself encouraged by their visit.
Just over 24 hours later, the storms blew in. A small tornado hit just south of our house and a horrific tornado took almost 1/4 of Joplin, killing at least 116 people. The first news that I received about the Joplin tornado was that St. John's Hospital had taken a direct hit, that the top two floors were gone, and that the entire front face of the building was devastated. One of our beloved church members, Ann Hickman, was in ICU, on the third floor of that hospital and her room had a front facing window, so immediately I began trying to find out what had happened to her. I would not know until late the next day that she had survived and had been moved to a hospital in Springfield.
This morning, 36 hours after the storm hit, sitting in my office with the sun shining outside, I am struck with the contrasts between the events of the past few days. In the case of the couple that visited us, the storm that struck their life gave them time to contemplate their actions, their heart attitudes, and their relationship to God and to each other. The spectre of death was bounded by the awareness of God's promises and His blessings even in the storm. The result in their life and family was ultimately a blessing. Their attitude reminded me of the old Jake Hess song, that Ron Fisher asked be played at his funeral, "Death Ain't No Big Deal."
In contrast, I see the massive destruction of the tornado, that descended on its victims in a moment, with very little warning, and left turmoil, devastation, and suffering in its wake. This morning on the radio, I heard the voice of a man whose mother and his toddler son were in the path of the tornado and had not been heard from since the storm. The desperation and panic in his words, as he pleaded with anyone within the sound of his voice, "If anyone knows anything, please contact us as soon as possible." I see pictures of the survivors, wandering through demolished neighborhoods in stunned silence, their shock-numbed senses struggling to bring order to the chaos of their world. And as the hours and the days pass, the stories will be heard of the lives cut short, the opportunities snatched away in a swirling whirlwind, and the long-road to recovery and restoration.
