June 21: Guest Blogger

Time is flying by! Thanks again to Pastor Jef for offering his words and reflections on this week's topic!

The past few blogs have been about prayer as a means of understanding how it is we are to use the spiritual gifts God has placed in us. There are many types of prayer and earlier blogs have encouraged us to open ourselves to the Holy Spirit using various means of prayer. There are times when one type of prayer seems to be more appropriate than another. Nonetheless, the skinny on prayer is that when we pray we are talking with and listening to God. Like any conversation, there can and should be elements of adoration, appreciation, gratitude, requesting insight, clarification, sharing dreams, and yes, even venting a bit – the same kinds of conversations we have with our families, our friends and others. So, if we can talk to our moms or dads, we can talk to God.

In the summer before I became nine, Susan (my oldest sister) got married. I quickly came to see in Ron everything I hoped to some day have in life. He was a local sports hero, respected by his peers and his elders, a natural people-pleaser and, now, an increasingly integral part of my life. (I pause here to acknowledge that my recollections are that of a nine-year-old and are somewhat self-centered.)

Four months after my ninth birthday, Ron was killed in a construction accident when he came into contact with a live electrical wire. My sister, his family, our family, the church, the whole town was devastated. My sister, now pregnant with their first child, was put on bed rest the day of the accident and remained there for several weeks. A sadness descended over her that day – the remnants of which remain a part of her even to this day.

I remember the latter part of that day with clarity. Nina (Ron’s mother) came to our house after school to tend to my siblings and me so Mom could give full attention to Susan. What a servant heart she possessed. Her sadness veiled, she prepared after-school snacks for us and did what she could to comfort us. Even so, the air in the house was too heavy for me, so I layered up and went out into the failing light and growing cold of the approaching January evening. Walking through the frozen waterway of Plum Creek, I prayed without ceasing until the dusk had given way to full darkness. Only then did I turn back toward home and to the new reality of all who had a Ron-sized hole in their lives.

Looking back, I cannot recall any particular parts of God’s conversation with me that evening. I would assume that I did more talking than I should have, more complaining than I ought to have, and gave God less glory than was deserved. What I do remember is the sense of calm and assurance that filled me. Was I done crying for Ron, for my sister, for myself? No, of course not. I am human, after all. What I was done doing was thinking that God didn’t care, that God was responsible for death of one so young, so loving, so ready to make a difference in his corner of the world, that God wasn’t in the business of answering prayers.

This story is my first memory (the first of many) of how talking things through with God have provided me with a stable foundation from which I could both move forward in life and be a source of comfort and support to those around me. I want to be clear that this is not my doing, but rather the working of the Holy Spirit in me and through me. The small part that I play in my faith life is to be open and receptive to letting God be God by being intentional and active in conversation with the one who creates, redeems and sustains.