Can words
express the joy a tiny "preemie" brought into our home so long ago? Now ill
and disabled, I don’t know how much she can heal. Some indications suggest she
may not. She was not our first conception; she followed several spontaneous
abortions--including twins. When natural birth seemed impossible, God in his
infinite wisdom gave a child to a woman the doctor’s said would never bear her own
child.
She survived
infancy, contrary to medical proclamations. She lived a difficult childhood struggling
for adulthood as a lifelong asthmatic. One
day she returned from her College campus and began helping us at church while
attending college locally. Her joy was teaching pre-
schoolers and she became immersed
in Preschool and Sunday school. She became especially involved when we restructured
our Sunday services in an effort to win new families--we offered extended
(free) preschool sessions as part of our Sunday worship experience.
We did not
consider Norm when we made our decision--not his real name. He was very real, very warm and congenial, a dear personal friend. I
appreciated him deeply during the years I knew him. He faithfully attended
church, dearly loved his wife, and zealously guarded his family, but he had not
accepted Christ. He brought her to church whenever the doors opened. He supported her financially and
emotionally. He faithfully kept his grandchildren in attendance, but, he loved football more than church. He was a “Cornhusker”, a “Big Red”
loyalist--fanatic.
When Autumn rolled
came, you would might see him coming to Sunday School lugging a small portable
TV under his arm. He didn’t hide it, nor was he offensive with it. We all knew he
would quietly retire into an out-of-the-way corner in the adjoining Nursery
School during worship and lose himself in the game of the day. East Coast
scheduling often interfered with our Pacific Coast Sunday schedules, which
meant that his favorite football game might come during church hours—PST.
We changed
our scheduling with high hopes, and got more than we bargained for. Those extended
hours for the Nursery School children began interrupting Grandpa’s unobtrusive game-watching over in his
formerly- quiet corner of silently following his game. He bothered no one with
his game, but it soon became obvious that he absorbed as much Sunday school as
he did football. Noting his awareness, our teacher-daughter kept her lesson
plans simple and flexible, intentionally leaving room for creative interaction
between her loving preschoolers and a doting Grandpa.
Eventually, he began asking
occasional questions. He stayed in
his game, but soon found new applications for old truths never internalized.
Casually, cautiously, and relationally, teacher and children incorporated
Grandpa into their learning experience rather than allowing it to hinder. He
became more comfortable and slowly ventured onto a new path of personal growth.
The cross-generational sharing exposed his limited faith to new growth and
benefited everyone.
She allowed her children to love him into their learning circle rather
than treat his unsought presence as intrusive. He eventually surrendered his life to Christ. What could have discouraged her, and become
an issue for church leaders, became her sharing of her vision, expanding her abilities, and enhancing her faith while advancing toward her nursing career.
Following
his conversion, he lived as zealous for church as he had been for football, serving God and church until his death. The young teacher is now retired--disabled
from 35+ years of nursing she loved more than life. As a dad, I’ve anguished as Life
threw her some “unspeakable curveballs” that warped her sense of self-worth as
a person. She still encounters former patients and co-workers
who bless her for helping save some family member, but some some experiences indelibly scar one's psyche.
I long for her to recall the pleasure she had knowing that she played a pivotal role in bringing to Christ a person whose friendship she valued and respected. As I approach life’s sunset, I am more convinced than ever that whatever it is we are doing, we must never lose sight of where we are going. If I could somehow help her offload her “demons” and internalize that truth that guided her years—William Barclay said it but she practiced it--
“More people have been brought into
the church by the kindness of real Christian love than by all the theological
arguments in the world, and more people have been driven from the church by the
hardness and ugliness of so-called Christianity than by all the doubts in the
world.”
Barclay's words prompt me to ask myself: isn’t that what Christian witnessing is all about?
From Warner’s World, this is walkingwithwarner.blogspot.com
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