Fast-forward to today. Or this last year. Today. I visited a woman in an assisted living center. She calls me Cathy now. She used to call me Teresa. Whatever she calls me, it doesn't matter. What matters is that she has gone from being very angry about a lot of things to sharing a few tears and telling me how good God is. Now that's a miracle. Physical healing changes our perspective a bit, being heard by someone heals our emotional perspective and God's grace heals our wounded souls.
Someone asked me this morning about how I pray for people. I don't know. I step out of the way and let the Holy Spirit run the show. But I do usually ask a question that I hope is important to that person and then listen carefully to the answer. In my heart, I begin to imagine what I am actually being told. What is the fear? What is the need? What is the feeling associated with sound/pitch of the voice? What is pulling on my heart as I listen? How can I help?
My prayer always encounters the 'system' of people that are involved with the person I am praying for. Is there family? Are their friends? Is reconciliation needed? How can I restate what I think I heard? Are their doctors, caregivers involved? Does the room have something of value to share in this prayer? I speak slowly and deliberately. I am aware of my wrong notes, my missteps, but I do not let them interfere with the direct action of the prayer I am trying to pray. The music of the prayer has its own life and while I participate in it, it does not belong to me. It is through me for another.
"Count the cost."
Another wonderful Methodist preacher told me that my greatest problem in ministry would be liability. I almost laughed. But he was right. You do something for God and someone else thinks what you are doing is wrong, you will pay for it. Sometimes in little ways, sometimes in big ways. But you will pay. The goal is to get past the negative feelings that you naturally encounter when you take any risk. It's part of the package. Sometimes you get shot at and you deserve it. Sometimes you get shot at and you don't deserve it. Sometimes you get shot at for just showing up. It's all part of the package.
John the Baptist stood up for what he knew to be the truth. Paul, Stephen, John, Peter...they knew the cost, but they stood up anyway. Because the first cost, that gift of Jesus, was worth it.
I still have a hard time getting my head around it. I can't explain it anymore than I can explain perfect love. But I know it is true. I can't pay God back for cleaning up my life. I can't pay God back for the peace I know in my heart. I can't pay God back for the "cloud of witnesses" that surround me everyday and build me up when I am too weak to stand up for myself.
That silly Andrew Lloyd Weber song is true, "I don't know how to love Him." But I try. Every single day. I try in my own prayer life, which allows me to sit with people who are very, very afraid of living or dying and not get caught up in my own fears about living and dying. I can sit without judgment of others because He has dealt with me so mercifully. I don't have to know anyone's story to love them, but if they want to tell it, I am willing to listen. I am willing to remember and I am willing to forget. All because He has already done the same for me.
Maybe those first apostles knew something about this love. Peter knew about this abundance of forgiveness. He was the one who let Jesus down the most and the hardest, because he dared to proclaim that he would never abandon Him. Peter knew about the sin of pride better than any of us. He could have hung himself as Judas did, not believing that God could forgive such a sin, but Peter chose the better road. Own it, tell the truth and get on with the work. Peter knew the cost.
So now, 13 years later, I receive a message on the ACTS retreat: Count the Cost. Everyone else loved their messages. I just stared at mine. I don't get it. What has this got to do with anything?
And it just haunted me:
Count the cost, Cindy
Count the cost, Cindy
Count the cost, Cindy
The time arrives again when I realize what was given to me. The wound that I believe would never heal has been healed. My hunger for empty things is nearly gone. Maybe it is gone, but I don't want to own it yet.
But I am ready to count the cost and give back. Completely and totally. All that I have. To sit again with another man or woman, and be a midwife, holding their hands as they are born again into Christ Jesus.
Too totally cool...I am blessed.
Love,
Cindy
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