“The Kingdom of God is within you.” ~ Luke 17:21 "I just wish God would do something," a woman shared with me yesterday as we sat next to the bed where her husband of forty years lay dying. "I don't understand why God is not hearing my prayers."
One thing that I never try to do is explain why God is, or is not, doing something. We cannot force God to do anything. God comes to us in God's own way. I have learned over the years that no discipline, effort or solitary practice can make God come to us. Prayer always is about grace. Grace is that free gift from God that leaves us with gratitude, but for this woman, she was wanting more than just God to "grant" something. She wanted a miracle. She then began to share with me that she is coming to understand that this is somehow, "God's will." It is not uncommon for us to reason away our faith as being God's will when something doesn't result in a way that we want. It is our human nature to somehow place the ills of the world as some sort of punishment or retribution for our failures. Living beyond the resurrection invites us into an intimate relationship with God through Jesus Christ. That relationship requires us to live into our faith, rather than question it. It means that we don't get into the habit of relinquishing the things that we cannot control into some eternal plan, rather, it is about living into eternity understanding that God will always be with us, even when we encounter struggles. The beauty of understanding that our life is not lived for a period of time, but is the beginning of eternity, leaves us looking at life in a different way. Our mortality is something we cannot deny. While it is easy for us to welcome this understanding, it is difficult when it involves someone sitting beside the bed of a loved one, watching the person die. I'm thankful in knowing that this woman is not alone on this journey, surrounded by several friends and family. In some way, their presence made it possible for me to say, "and God has made sure that you are surrounded by people who love you." We will always remain the center of God's presence, even when we are unaware. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. ~ 2 Corinthians 4:18 I have grown to have an appreciation for times when I have struggled with my faith. While not during the time of the struggle, but afterwards, when I realize that I have changed, or grown, because of the experience. Growing in faith means that we have a new appreciation for, or understanding of, who God is to us in our life. Taking a "leap of faith," means that we decide to go beyond the experience and trust that God will be there for us when we land.
Sometimes the leap, or for some, the crawl of faith, seems to be impossible. Taking such steps with our faith requires us to walk with everything we have experienced. These steps often include our joys, loves, hurts, and wounds. Claiming our journey can take us to places we could never have imagined. Recognizing the One who is leading us, can have powerful results. Years ago while still a seminarian, one of the first patients I encountered in the ER was a forty-seven year old man who had a massive heart attack. As the staff worked to save the man's life, the doctor stepped out of the room and asked me to go and talk to the family and to, "prepare them for the worst." As I entered one of the family waiting rooms near the ER, I met the man's wife. As I introduced myself she said, "If you've come in here to tell me that my husband is going to die, then you need to turn around and walk out of here. You cannot box in my God." I was shocked by her words, and I just remember praying with her and her family that God would perform a miracle for the man. The man eventually went to the ICU and underwent surgery. For several weeks he remained on a ventilator with little to no response to treatment. I then remember being paged to the patient's room nearly a month later, and was welcomed by the wife, with her husband, wide awake and was able to shake my hand. "You're the one who has taught this chaplain about faith," she said. I couldn't have agreed more. Leaps of faith, and moments of discernment, teach us so much about our faith and our relationship with God. While it may not take a life-changing encounter to understand where our faith may lie, we are given the opportunity each day to "believe in things we cannot see." Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” ~ John 20:25 Doubt is something that we all know a little about. "I doubt it," is part of our every day language. About this time poor Thomas, one of the twelve disciples that Jesus had called, misses the initial return of Jesus with all the others. He basically thinks that the group is pulling something over on him, and he shares that he will only believe when, "I can see his wounds."
Jesus then appears and shows Thomas his wounds, reminding him “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” Thomas is the reminder to us that even the disciples continued to have moments where they doubted Jesus. I wish that I could say that I live my faith each day, "without a doubt in the world," but that is not my nature, nor the nature of most of us. Even when I pray, I must admit that sometimes in the back of my mind, even as I am praying for something in particular, there does exist the presence of the words, "I doubt it will happen, but I'm just praying for it any way." The greatest challenge that we face in a world that is full of doubt, is to proclaim to be the living instruments of Christ in the world today. John writes, "You must see what great love the Father has lavished on us by letting us be called God's children - which is what we are." (1 John 3:1) We become the presence. We become the source of Christ in the world. While we all struggle with moments of doubt, we are called to believe. Even after appearing to the disciples, they were then faced with the greatest challenge yet. They had to take what they had experienced into a doubting world, and make them believe. It is still our challenge today, while remaining in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 Jesus answered, “I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." ~ John 14:6 The day has begun in solitude. Actually most of my days begin in silence. There is something about being surrounded by your thoughts. It makes me wonder about those "coffee conversations" (or some kind of juice in the time of Jesus) right after the resurrection,
It's probably just my mind working overtime, but my imagination can take me to one of those mornings, wondering what part of life was once again "normal?" I worked a number of years as a chaplain at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. Nearly every patient could tell me stories about their life before their cancer diagnosis, and then life after cancer. Even we mark the world events by those things that happened prior to the birth of Christ, and then, following. While I'm unsure if the disciples realized the implications of the risen Christ, the entire world was about to change. The risen Christ still is about change. While it may not be marked by a stone rolled away from an empty tomb, our encounters with Jesus can and do make life different for us each day. As you begin your day, consider inviting the resurrected Jesus to journey with you, who knows what your life might look like at the end of the day. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen. ~ Matthew 28:20 One of the things that seems to happen after the resurrection is that people are trying to adjust to a "new normal."
Jesus has died, but now he has risen. I know how I am about asking questions of people about their life experiences. I can only begin to imagine the questions I would be asking Jesus about now. One of the things that I encounter almost daily are people asking me, "What will 'it' be like?" The "it" in this case is the death experience, and what heaven will be like. In actuality, there are only a few documented people in scripture who were brought back from death, with no account of what their death experience was like, or what their encounter with heaven felt like. They remain the last real mystery of our faith, and that eternal contact with our Creator. For some, spending time thinking about their own mortality can leave them anxious. I remember my grandfather telling me that he hoped he would, "Be awake when I die." I finally asked him, "Why?" one day. His response? "I don't want to miss it!" In a way God was faithful to him and his wish, as he awoke just prior to his death, and he was able to tell my grandmother he was about to die and that he loved her. I'm not sure what I hope for when it comes to my own death. Some say that it's rather morbid to think about death, but if we are truthful, our encounter with our mortality is something we encounter each day. Our mortality waits in the wings, in the shadows of our minds, and is the essence of our faith. It remains as the threshold to heaven, and will be present when God calls us into eternity. I am reminded that there will be a place for each of us. It is not just the cornerstone of our faith, but serves as a reminder that God loves us so much. Do not worry... Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” ~ John 11:25-26 I have often thought what the days after Easter were like for the disciples. Knowing that they had abandoned one another, and for that matter, even Jesus, in the final hours of his life. We don't know much about where they were in the crowd, except for the woman. Many of whom were right up front and center, watching every last moment of Jesus' life. Even Peter, who swore he would die for Jesus at one point, is now left, knowing that the words that Jesus shared about him had come to pass.
I am reminded in the church that the Sunday after Easter remains one of the lowest attended Sundays among most faith traditions. The "C and E'ers" (Those who only attend Christmas and Easter services), as they are affectionately known, have made their appearance, and once again will return to whatever it is that they normally do on Sunday. For me, I am thinking about what I said during the service, where I wish I had gone with my message, and simply feeling like I need another opportunity. I am among the disciples the day after Easter. I am one of those that had to be called back, and told more than once that Jesus was no longer in the tomb, and that my actions on Easter Sunday was the mountain top, and today, whether I want to or not, begins the walk down the other side. I wonder what those initial conversations were really like with Jesus. The unbelievable moments, when the resurrection greets the unbeliever, and faith suddenly changes. It wasn't enough to talk to Lazarus who simply had died, and then rose again. They were now talking to a man who had publicly been put to death in the most violent way, and he was now back, sharing again the love that he has for all humanity. It is our struggle. It is in our weakness that we enter the day after Easter, once again asking ourselves, "Do I believe?" As we begin another week we look to yesterday, and think of the empty tomb, while wondering how it is that we can become the living Christ in the world today. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, “Surely he was the Son of God!” ~ Matthew 27:54 About this time the disciples are beginning to wake up. Tired, weary-eyed, and hurting. It's their first day without Jesus. He is not there to greet them. He is not with them as they sit around and wonder what dusty road they would walk today, or who they might see. They are scattered and trying to collect their thoughts.
Last week I stopped to visit a woman who's husband died two months ago. His hats are still hanging on hooks by the back door. The living room, where her husband's hospital bed had sat during the last few weeks of his life, now looks empty, as a single chair sits where her husband breathed his last breath. Nothing is really the same. She shares how she sits at the kitchen table in the morning, listens to the same radio program, and stares at the kitchen door, hoping that he will walk in again. Her loss is measured by days, "Since he died." It hasn't been twenty-four hours yet, and the loss of Jesus is real. I can only imagine what everyone was thinking. Emptiness. Before the tomb can be found empty, there is an emptiness that has spread among those who walked with and knew Jesus. They are missing his presence, his words, and his eyes that looked beyond what the disciples saw. I have to wonder if people gathered where the cross stood, looked at the blood-stained ground, and talked about what they saw? Like the scene where a crime occurred today, were there items brought and placed, marking where a life was lost? We are feeling the emptiness of a mother who watched her son die. She remembers the first kicks in her womb, and cannot remove the final images from yesterday. She tries to eat something because she is hungry, but stops short, and begins to cry again. A few of the disciples remember those initial words to, "Follow me," and are now thinking that they may be about to experience the same death as Jesus. Today is about the emptiness we feel when we do not feel the presence of Jesus. It is the reminder that there are simply those moments when we feel hopelessness and pain. When we have isolated ourselves, and rolled a stone between us and God. We are remembering our losses, and the pain associated with our wounds. We are empty. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 They brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means "the place of the skull"). ~ Mark 15:22 While still a student at Louisville Presbyterian Seminary, I was given the opportunity to spend one summer riding along with the chaplain for the city's police department. Since I was in class throughout the day, my time to ride along with their chaplain happened late into the night. It amazed me that the city that I thought I knew, could be so very different after the sun went down.
The lights of the car radio and oncoming headlights shone on our faces as their chaplain and I rode together on familiar streets, that now looked strange to me. I will never forget one of those nights when we responded to the scene where two teenage youth had gotten into a fight and one of the boys pulled out a knife during the battle, and stabbed the other to death. As we approached the scene, the chaplain shared with me just how violent the act of stabbing actually is. His knowledge of trauma caused by a knife, the strength it takes to push the knife into the human body, withdraw it, and the intimacy of the two, made the event sound like an orchestrated dance of violence. I could already feel my stomach beginning to turn as we approached the scene. A small crowd on a street corner, their shadows displayed with colors of red and blue as emergency vehicles encircled the area. I'm not sure what moved me more, seeing the victim, a young black teen, covered in blood on the sidewalk, or the cries of the boy's mother as she was standing, being held away by family members and friends, while we waited for the medical examiner to arrive. I thought to myself, "The boy is dead. Let the mother hold him," but that wasn't possible. "Protocol of the crime scene," is what I was told as a news crew arrived, and could be heard giving an update for the ten o'clock broadcast. I felt as if I couldn't breathe, and I turned away. I excused myself and went back to the car, where I sat, ashamed that I felt like I had failed in some way. Ashamed because I didn't know what to say, or how to react. Ashamed that a boy was dead and his mother couldn't even touch him, and I was somehow part of the "system," that failed them. There is not a single Good Friday that goes by that the image of this dead boy and his mother, doesn't cross my mind. The same streets where Thomas Merton stepped off a bus and realized that he loved everyone he saw, was the same streets where I discovered just how violent humanity can be towards one another, and that a mother can witness the death of her child and do nothing to save him. While Jesus was fulfilling some eternal plan created by God to answer our sinful and violent nature, a mother stood in the crowd, held back by friends and strangers, as her son hung, bleeding, and dying. I have often inserted the cries of that mother from the streets of Louisville, into the image that I have of that day years ago that we now proclaim as, "Good." Over twenty years later, death is part of my daily life, and the cries are different, but in many ways they are still the same. A son dies. A mother watches. The only difference is that now I don't turn away because death has become so much a part of my life, and I have to wonder if I were present on the day that Jesus died, would I struggle to find my breath again? Would I turn away, or would I watch? Would I listen for his last words, as I do now with each hospice patient? And would I be one with Mary, helping to hold her, as she watched and waited? Death doesn't appear in a valley. For Jesus it resided on a hillside. It resides in each of us. It is as much a part of us as the next breath we take. It waits for the moment when our heart forgets to beat, and then springs to life. Where are you in the crowd? "Behold the lamb who takes away the sins of the world." Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 They were very sad and began to say to him one after the other, "Surely you don't mean me, Lord?" ~ Matthew 26:22 Before there was an empty tomb, there was an empty seat at the table.
"Go and do what you must," had to have been the hardest sentence Jesus uttered in his lifetime. Knowing that things were about to change, and the anxiety that he must have felt, as he broke bread and shared the blessing cup with those present in the upper room is hard to imagine. Yesterday I spent time with a woman who will probably die over the weekend. She shared with me that she, "hopes to make it until Easter so that I can rise with Jesus." She smiled as she shared, but with these words, there is great sadness as well. One of her children who has become distant, will not be present. "It hurts knowing he won't come, but then again, one of Jesus' closest friends left him as well." The world for Jesus is coming apart. One of the hardest moments for me in the life of Jesus is when he asks the disciples to wait in the garden while he goes a little further ahead and begins to pray, asking that this night, this "cup," pass from him. The gospel writer Luke shares, "And being in agony, He prayed more earnestly. Then His sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground." (Luke 22:44) Jesus returns to find the disciples asleep. Not only is there an empty seat at the table, as Judas has left to go and complete his mission of betraying Jesus, but Jesus now encounters the disciples sleeping, and he screams, "Can you not even stay awake an hour?" (Matthew 26:40) Loss, betrayal, anxiety, anger are words that can only begin to describe the moment and how Jesus is feeling. I have to wonder if Jesus is beginning to think, "And this is what I get for devoting my life to God and these people?" We have been there. We understand. If we are truthful with ourselves, any one of us can claim a moment where we have either felt abandoned, entitled, or have been the one who has betrayed some one. It's as if we are all asking ourselves about now, "Is it I?" Today is the day we encounter the empty seat, and realize it is ours. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, "Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me." ~ John 13:21 I have to believe that the disciples were also the friends of Jesus. Walking dusty roads, sharing meals, and sleeping under the stars are experiences that Jesus and his followers shared together. The relationships after three years of ministry must have been close. Among those friends was Judas. As I spent time reading about Judas this morning, I noticed in the notes about the text that the Greek word for "betraying," is "someone who hands the other over to suffering."
As much as I hate to admit it, there is an element of "traitor," in each of us. We live in a world that makes the desire to be better, first, or successful, more important than caring for one another. It has become so much a part of our daily life that we don't even notice when we are betraying someone for the sake of getting ahead. When we are willing to confess that we have handed someone over, or betrayed them, so that they experience suffering, even when it goes against our best intentions, then something unique happens. It is in these experiences that we can address our own pain and begin to understand the need to forgive those who have betrayed us as well. I can't imagine the look that Jesus gave Judas when he shared, "Go and do what you must," knowing that the betrayal would lead to real suffering, and even his death. The heartbreak of a friend, betraying him, must have just been so overwhelming. Our need to recognize the suffering that we have caused others leads us to a place during Holy Week that we can seek to be forgiven and to forgive others. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split. ~ Matthew 27:51 For the past two years I have spent time with a faith community that three years ago experienced a fire in their sanctuary. The fire was started by an arsonist. For this faith community, as they stood out in the parking lot, looking at the burned out building, they realized that the church was still present. It was the people standing outside the building, looking, and asking, "What next?"
Like the initial pictures we are seeing from the burned out cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris this morning, there in the darkness, there still stands the cross. Three predominately black churches were burned in the last few weeks, as flames devoured the buildings, we all were reminded that Christ is not the building, but are the people who are the instruments by which God is known. If there is anything that Lent teaches us, it is this truth; Lent is about change. We are reminded that Jesus challenged those who had become comfortable and complacent in their religion, and in their worship of God. He turns over the money changers tables, and warns that this house was to be "a place of prayer, not a den of thieves." At the moment of Jesus' death, the veil in the temple is torn in two, the earth shakes and the rocks split. The world is changed as Jesus declares, "It is finished." As his body, broken, and now dead is lowered to the ground, the cross still remains. The people look and watch, in shock. The disciples, many of whom have left his side for the safety of the shadows, begin to gather in another place, while his body is quickly moved to a tomb as the sun begins to set in the west. The cross remains, even in the final moments of the light of the day that continues to overcome complete darkness, the cross casts a long, dark shadow. This morning we awaken, the architectural skeleton in Paris pierces the sky, and a cross is still present. In Louisiana black hands dig through ashes, discovering a cross that once stood on the altar where people gathered to pray. We have been changed. We have experienced the fire, and have known loss. The tomb appears to be dark, but wait... the cross... Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 And they went their way, and found the colt tied by the door without in a place where two ways met; and they loose him. ~ Mark 11:4 Before the palms and the shouts of "Hosanna!" through the crowds, there was a task that had to be completed by the Disciples. A colt had to be acquired.
The gospel writer Mark notes that the colt will be found in a place where "two roads meet." While it may sound like simple navigational tools, for me it is more than just a mile marker along the way. It is the reminder that this colt which would carry Jesus into the city, is symbolically located where two traditions were about to unfold. Yesterday I reminded people during my Palm Sunday sermon that Jesus did not come to "abolish the law, but to fulfill it." (Matthew 5:17) Jesus is allowing for a new way, a new relationship with the Creator. I think that we can seriously forget where we came from at times. Just because two roads meet, doesn't mean that we have lost our way. We still have a place from where we came from. The colt itself, is meant to be the reminder it was to be a gentle ride into the city. Not one on a stallion that would signify a great soldier, or for that matter, someone who was about to go into battle. No, a simple colt, gathered from a place where two roads met, that would carry a Savior that would save all humanity, no matter what their path. Not by force, but by humility and love. We are the ones who were crying out, "Hosanna!" We are the ones who even today call out, "God save us," which is what "Hosanna" literally means. It is not a battle cry! It is our acknowledgement that we need Jesus to enter our lives. While the city celebrates a king, one of the paths where the road is met by Jesus on a colt, is seeking to find a way to stop Jesus' journey. Two paths meet as Jesus rides. "Hosanna! God save us!" Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 'In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch of David to spring forth; and He shall execute justice and righteousness on the earth." ~ Jeremiah 33:15 Each day I meet people living with a life-limiting condition. Often being told that they will die within the next six weeks. The words, "You are going to die," immediately remind us of our mortality, but also, are often filled with anxiety.
"I thought I would have more time." "I haven't even completed my bucket list." "I am still in shock." Just some of the many things that I hear. Jesus knows that his life is about to come to an abrupt ending. Mary bathes his feet in perfume. Jesus shares that his body shall be "broken," and that bread shall be the reminder of his woundedness. A cup is lifted, and it suddenly becomes "blood," which will be shed for all of humanity, creating a new covenant for the forgiveness of sins. I often ask people if they could orchestrate the last day of their life, what would it look like? Often I hear the person speak of having family and friends surround the person as the person quietly enters into eternal rest. Rarely do I hear that the person wishes to be publicly beaten, inflicted by nails driven into the body by a mallet, be stripped before a crowd, have their mother watch as people cry out for the person to die, gasp for air, to thirst, and cry out, wondering why no one seems to care, only to finally surrender and die. Lent is our opportunity to welcome the mystery of Christ within us. It serves as the reminder of our mortality, but also the importance of our own personal journeys of faith. It is a time of solitude, but also, at time for building community. The voice within that speaks to us, and the reminder that each of us are sacred and loved by God. The final week of Lent is the reminder that our life is a gift and is a time to continuously make the journey to a life that is lived in relationship of Jesus who came, walked among humanity, and died so that the life we live now may be reflective of his life. The proclamation of the risen Christ must first be greeted by this sacred truth that Jesus must die on the cross. In the gospel of Matthew, the birth of Jesus was proclaimed, “Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel, which means ‘God is with us.’” (Matthew 1:23) Jesus' time is drawing near, and he is "God, still with us" even until our final day. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen. ~ Matthew 28:20 This morning as I walked along our back fence, I noticed a monarch caterpillar hanging upside down. It's what they do just prior to transforming into a chrysalis, and then later, emerging as the monarch butterfly. As I looked at this small, living thing, I couldn't help but think of the times when the world has seemed to be "upside down," in my own life.
It's natural for the caterpillar, but when it happens to us, we become anxious, or unsure, because hanging upside down, or experiencing things that are less-than-normal for us, changes how we see the world. About the time that I graduated from seminary twenty years ago, a number of my fellow graduates were feeling very unsure about what the next chapter was going to look like. Often we would joke and ask each other if God had somehow dropped a road map into our laps, with an "X" noting where we currently are, and a bigger "X" where we were going to end up. Oh, how we all longed for that road map! Years ago a Roman Catholic priest friend of mine shared, "Even if you are traveling down a one-way road the wrong way, but yet, you feel that God is calling you, God will literally turn the world around to get you going in the right direction." Of course, I don't recommend it on the highway in Houston where I drive each day, but I understand what he was saying. Sometimes we are forced to look at things from a different perspective so that we understand better how to maneuver through the experience. Robert Frost's, "The Road Not Taken," has served me well when the world seems to be chaotic, and I find myself upside down. He writes, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." Jesus calls us each day to look at the world from his view. Sometimes it does require us to look from it in a different way, or with different eyes. We are being invited to speak love towards one another, which for some, will literally cause people to look at one another differently. We are being challenged to sit with our enemies, and to break bread with them, while praying for them as well. These are the very things that cause us to change! Lent is about our returning to God. It is an invitation to look at where we currently are, and if necessary to turn our lives upside down, if that means we are looking at the world the way that God wants us to view our surroundings. It is not always about being comfortable, but like this caterpillar that is about to make it's transformation, so it is with us! Maybe it's time that we all view the world from a different perspective, from the cross of Christ. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." When he had said this, he breathed his last. ~ Luke 23:46 One of the things I struggle with is when people associate illness with some form of punishment from God. Currently I am meeting with two people who believe that God is going to heal them of their illnesses and they are going to live longer. When I asked one of them, "and if you die?" she responded, "Then I didn't have enough faith."
Before I go any further, I believe in miracles. I believe that they happen daily, and are often reasoned away. Do I believe that God could heal these two people? Yes, I do. Will God heal these people? I don't know. Over the years I have prayed for God's perfect and complete healing for more people than I can count. The results of those prayers are not always known, but what I have learned is that God's final healing for us, and most amazing miracle, occurs the moment we surrender our final breath. Having been at the bedside of hundreds of people who have died, I tell people that it often looks the same. It is in the moment of our death that we leave behind all that we have known. In talking with people who have had near-death experiences, their sharing often is filled with the description of peace, overwhelming feelings of love, and no longer experiencing pain. The final healing involves our total trust that we belong to God. It is the relationship with God that we need for our mind, body and soul. It is that belonging and healing that allowed Jesus to declare, "Into your hands I commend my spirit," and it will be ours as well on the day that we, too, experience our final healing. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 |
AuthorRev. G. Todd Williams is the author of the book, "Remember Me When..." and is a former hospice chaplain and pastor. Archives
February 2024
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