My computer has been warming up, email scanned through and time sheet entered. Next to it sits a mug of hot water - my first and habitual drink of the day for decades. The time display at the very bottom right of the computer screen flashes the 3 familiar digits, 4:30, beckoning me for the very first appointment of the day: it’s time to meet C, my pastor, brother and friend.
I follow the shortcut to go to my favorite site for daily devotion, wondering why the convenience of technology has not hit home run with me still. After all I am the IT professional and it is 2010 already. I miss my 25-year-old Bible with burgundy faux leather cover, all duck-taped up with pages chewed up by our first dog. But C is waiting. “I will see you at 4:30!” He was saying exactly that at the end of the dinner last night. His face, now thinning and pale, was still glowing with that usual ardor and earnestness. It’s been almost a month when we first agreed to meet each other at 4:30am with a prayer session. He wakes up at 4, goes out to feed the birds and then comes back inside for his time with God. P whispered very quietly that he has not been sleeping well these days. Chemo and all the medications have brought along the inevitable side effect of insomnia, which coincidently has also been my life-long rival and companion. The irony is: as unwelcomed and tormenting it may be, this mutual nuisance has turned out to be the instigator of a sweet communion of 2 sleepless souls.
My chest constricts with joy and pang as I start to pray. Would I trade this stammering tongue here with his most endearing prayer almost poetry! But it is never about the words but the heart and soul behind and where they lead others. I find home and rest in Christ when he prays and even on the podium when he preached with those small, sometimes all wrinkled hand-written notes that he pulled out of his pocket. I am now exasperated as my mind drifts away to touch a territory I have avoided for fear of the predicament I am facing now. How do you describe something or someone so intricate, magnificent and multifarious? The danger is not that my words might fail the emotion within but that they would harm the integrity of my subject. Any deliberate effort from this poorly equipped tongue and mind would be at best as good as wrapping something majestic with gift wrap less in yardage and quality. I couldn’t help asking if half truth equals to lies and that half said is worse than not saying at all? Worst of all, it pains me to ever risk hurting him by exposing him who is so helplessly shy and insecure.
But how can I stop all these emotions from erupting without venturing to temper them with words even if they are bleakly inadequate! He brings smile and tears to my face even now as I struggle to capture him and all that paradox within: an old soul with a child’s heart, well-read, inquisitive and intelligent, who goes to bed with children’s classic such as Treasure Island; the beloved pastor who does not want to be one but served as one out of necessity for 3 years refusing to take compensation; the ex preacher who came to church to turn on the heat on the wintery Sunday morning before anyone was even awake and took leave before anyone came in; a man with a presence impossible to be missed at any gathering yet hides himself in the corner, desperately to be invisible; a friend whose company and conversation makes hours fly on like minutes (and what fun we had at the dinner!); a faithful brother whose confession of a rightful moan turned a runaway sinner tearful and speechless; the suffering one who battles the snare of cancer and looks at me with glistening eyes and says: “I pray for you at 4:30 every morning”.
I follow the shortcut to go to my favorite site for daily devotion, wondering why the convenience of technology has not hit home run with me still. After all I am the IT professional and it is 2010 already. I miss my 25-year-old Bible with burgundy faux leather cover, all duck-taped up with pages chewed up by our first dog. But C is waiting. “I will see you at 4:30!” He was saying exactly that at the end of the dinner last night. His face, now thinning and pale, was still glowing with that usual ardor and earnestness. It’s been almost a month when we first agreed to meet each other at 4:30am with a prayer session. He wakes up at 4, goes out to feed the birds and then comes back inside for his time with God. P whispered very quietly that he has not been sleeping well these days. Chemo and all the medications have brought along the inevitable side effect of insomnia, which coincidently has also been my life-long rival and companion. The irony is: as unwelcomed and tormenting it may be, this mutual nuisance has turned out to be the instigator of a sweet communion of 2 sleepless souls.
My chest constricts with joy and pang as I start to pray. Would I trade this stammering tongue here with his most endearing prayer almost poetry! But it is never about the words but the heart and soul behind and where they lead others. I find home and rest in Christ when he prays and even on the podium when he preached with those small, sometimes all wrinkled hand-written notes that he pulled out of his pocket. I am now exasperated as my mind drifts away to touch a territory I have avoided for fear of the predicament I am facing now. How do you describe something or someone so intricate, magnificent and multifarious? The danger is not that my words might fail the emotion within but that they would harm the integrity of my subject. Any deliberate effort from this poorly equipped tongue and mind would be at best as good as wrapping something majestic with gift wrap less in yardage and quality. I couldn’t help asking if half truth equals to lies and that half said is worse than not saying at all? Worst of all, it pains me to ever risk hurting him by exposing him who is so helplessly shy and insecure.
But how can I stop all these emotions from erupting without venturing to temper them with words even if they are bleakly inadequate! He brings smile and tears to my face even now as I struggle to capture him and all that paradox within: an old soul with a child’s heart, well-read, inquisitive and intelligent, who goes to bed with children’s classic such as Treasure Island; the beloved pastor who does not want to be one but served as one out of necessity for 3 years refusing to take compensation; the ex preacher who came to church to turn on the heat on the wintery Sunday morning before anyone was even awake and took leave before anyone came in; a man with a presence impossible to be missed at any gathering yet hides himself in the corner, desperately to be invisible; a friend whose company and conversation makes hours fly on like minutes (and what fun we had at the dinner!); a faithful brother whose confession of a rightful moan turned a runaway sinner tearful and speechless; the suffering one who battles the snare of cancer and looks at me with glistening eyes and says: “I pray for you at 4:30 every morning”.
My heart is too full and my vision blurred. It is fruitless to continue on. No, this ranting would do him or me no benefit. I would now abandon my useless exertion and trade it for a sweet hour of prayer with him. Unworthy and wretched I may be, I am ready to cease all striving and take all my sins and wounds to the foot of my Savior - in the company of a dear frined.
Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
That calls me from a world of care,
And bids me at my Father’s throne
Make all my wants and wishes known.
In seasons of distress and grief,
My soul has often found relief,
And oft escaped the tempter’s snare,
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer!
Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
The joys I feel, the bliss I share,
Of those whose anxious spirits burn
With strong desires for thy return!
With such I hasten to the place
Where God my Savior shows His face,
And gladly take my station there,
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!
No comments:
Post a Comment