What A Friend

For most of my journey as a Christian, I’ve had to take the nearness of God as a matter of faith.  For The Bible Tells Me So… that kind of faith.  I’ve had to rely on verses like “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you” (James 4:8) or “The LORD is near to all who call on Him, to all who call on Him in truth.” (Psalm 145:18) And then I’ve had to preach those verses to myself when doubts creep in and God seems distant.

I have a few friends, however; who’ve had a different kind of journey.  They speak of “crawling into the lap of Jesus” during their quiet times, and truly experiencing the closeness of Him.  Frankly, I’m a bit envious of those friends.  Plus, hearing them say those things makes me feel like I must be doing something wrong.  

It’s not that I’ve NEVER felt the presence of God in a way that gives me goose bumps – I’m just acknowledging that those times are the exception in my life and not the rule.

 

We aren’t promised in scripture that we will always FEEL the nearness of God.  I console myself with that phrase when my friends are seemingly being rocked to sleep by Jesus - while I toss and turn with hot flashes.

But every now and then, God chooses to surprise me with a gift of His nearness that is SO REAL and so personal, I find myself completely flabbergasted and at a loss for words.  I got one of those gifts last week.

I’m on an official “Prayer Team” at my son’s school.  We meet every Tuesday morning and we pray about all sorts of things… kids with cancer, kids with nightmares, kids without friends, kids recovering from abuse, parents that have lost jobs or spouses, and teachers who are weary.  We run the gambit.  It’s our custom to have a very brief devotional before we begin praying.  Last Tuesday it was my turn to do the devotional.  For some reason, God had been bringing lots of old hymns to my mind that week, so I decided that we’d sing one of those as our devotion time, rather than force everyone to listen to me prattle on and on. 

This is my 4^th year on the prayer team, and to the best of my knowledge, we’d never sung a hymn as the opening to our prayer time. I was excited.  I brought my old copy of the church hymnal from my childhood; the very one we used in the little country church in deep south Georgia.  My dad was the “song leader” at that church, so we had a personal copy of the hymnal at home.  But we didn’t really need it back then.  I knew most of those hymns by heart, as did my dad.  But today that hymnal is one of my most treasured possessions.  It’s old and worn, like my bible.

I had fun reminiscing as I flipped through it trying to select a single hymn for our group to sing.  There were so MANY good choices, but for reasons I can’t explain, I felt drawn to that old wonderful hymn, “What A Friend We Have In Jesus.”  

As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the right one.  The lyrics were rich and full and perfect for a Prayer Team. So, on Tuesday morning, we stood in a circle in the Prayer Room and we sang that hymn.  My heart was transported back to the long wooden pews of my childhood, and I longed for a simpler time… a time when I was blissfully unaware of the types of issues that flooded our school Prayer Room.

But the hymn concluded and our jobs as prayer warriors took center stage.  We had gathered primarily to pray for a beloved 12 year-old girl in our school, Kylie, who has been battling bone cancer since last April.  A critical scan was scheduled the following week, and we needed to intercede.

Maybe I’m still in the grieving process of losing Keaton at age 18, but for whatever reason – as I prayed, I did NOT feel the nearness of God.  I certainly wasn’t afraid to pray; nor was I convinced that since God did not spare Keaton in this life, he might not spare our sweet Kylie either.  Nothing of the sort.  My faith was still strong… my God just felt far away. 

The prayer service concluded and we went on our various busy ways.  A day or two later, I got an email urging a group to gather in Kylie’s driveway early Saturday morning to pray again.  The email was sent mainly to Kylie’s “drama family.”  She’s been active in theater practically since she could walk, so this gathering consisted mostly of her fellow thespians and their parents.

 

We huddled in the cool morning temps, clad in our sweatshirts and jeans and we waited for a moment in silence – we felt the gravity of the situation and we simply leaned into the weight of it for a minute.  As I glanced around our circle, I was moved by the kids who had turned out to pray for their friend.  I was struck that they were not running away from hard things.  As my eyes made their way around the circle, I noticed one lady that I did not recognize.  That’s unusual in a school our size.  I didn’t dwell on it too long, I was just glad people were there to pray.  And so we began.

The prayers were of the usual sort… for healing and comfort, - and for God’s nearness to be felt by Kylie and her parents.  But then the lady I hadn’t recognized began praying.  Her prayers were different.  They were incredible. She prayed for things that only an “insider” to cancer treatment would know to pray for… that God would provide PET scan technicians with a sense of humor, ones who really loved kids and didn’t show up just to get a paycheck.  Things like that.  I felt gratitude well up in my heart that she had joined us.

I admit it, I took a peek at her across the circle while she was praying.  I noticed that she wore a hat.  It was a chilly morning – but not the "gloves and hat" kind of chilly.  I began to put two and two together and realized who this lady must be.  She was a good friend of a good friend, but I had never met her.  She IS an insider to cancer treatment, and I thought it was really cool that someone going through that would get up early on a Saturday to pray for someone ELSE going through it…without drawing any attention to the fact that she could probably use some prayers herself.

But it’s what happened next that I’ll never forget.

At the conclusion of her prayer, the lady in the hat began to sing softly into our circle.  She sang a hymn.  Care to guess which one?  What A Friend We Have In Jesus.  I haven't sung that hymn in YEARS. The church my family and I attend uses more contemporary songs for worship, so the old hymns seldom make it into our Sunday mornings.  

My knees felt weak and I found myself crouching down to the pavement.  I realized that I was the only person in the circle that Saturday morning who had also been at the Tuesday morning Prayer Team.  Do you understand what that means?

It was for ME.  God orchestrated that particular moment for ME.  He wanted me to know that He WAS near and that He knew I needed to sense it deep in my bones.  Tears welled up as I pondered the sheer kindness of God. 

I’ll bet that lady knows LOTS of hymns.  I won’t let anyone snatch the joy of that moment from me by trying to convince me that it was all a big coincidence.  I stopped believing in those decades ago.

God is ALWAYS near, but sometimes He chooses to make sure we are acutely aware of it.  I’m so grateful that He does.  Do I wish He would do that more often?  Yes, I do.  But I reckon He knows what’s best, and I’m certain that He is FOR me.  I’ll rest in that for now.

As for Kylie, her scan was pretty good news.  We’re still battling, but the tumors are no longer growing.  The next step is to watch them disappear.  Please God, let it be so.  If you’d like to follow along and throw your prayers into the circle for Kylie along with us, you can access her CaringBridge page at: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/kyliemyers.

"Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you." - Psalm 143:8

Obscure Paths

So we’ve been doing some hiking lately.  I’m talking legitimate hiking… not just a stroll in the park on the designated “nature trail,” which winds between exactly three oak trees, a wild fern and a nice park bench.  No siree, we’ve been doing the real thing.  We even bought a book that maps out trails, and describes them in great detail.

We’re learning as we go.  The book can be a tad deceptive.  One thing we’ve learned is that all miles are NOT created equal.  Sometimes it’s a challenge to FIND the trail to even begin the hike.  On one outing in particular, the hiking book instructed us to turn off the main highway onto another road and drive 4.5 miles to the trailhead.  Simple enough.  Except it wasn’t.  That PARTICULAR 4.5 miles took us about 25 minutes to traverse!  It was a dirt and gravel road with lots of potholes and bumps.  Our innards were scrambled by the time we reached the trailhead. 

Other times the hiking book is very straightforward.  Some trail descriptions contain the word “bushwhack.”  It might as well substitute the words “DON’T BE AN IDIOT!”  Our group is not up for any bushwhacking. We’ll leave those trails to you more adventurous Macgyver-type folks. 

But other times, the book leaves room for interpretation.  We decided to try one recently where the trail description started out fairly simply.  But then it mentioned “fording a creek” and continuing on an “obscure footpath.”  “Hmmmm.  How bad could it be?” we wondered.  We’re fairly observant people.  Surely someone in our group could detect an  “obscure” footpath.  So off we went.

We encountered our first problem before we ever got out of the car.  About halfway down the last road that led to the start of the trail, we ran smack into this obstacle:

And that’s when God started opening my eyes to the similarities between our hiking trails and our real life trails, particularly the trails that lead us through grief.

There are days when it’s just easier to give up when little obstacles are thrown in our path.  It’s much harder to muster the strength to go over them.  I think God understands that.  That’s why He offers us HIS strength for the taking.  I love that He told Gideon in Judges chapter 6, “Go in the strength that you HAVE (which wasn’t much.)  Surely I will be with you.”  In order to appropriate God’s strength in that situation, Gideon had to crawl out of his hole and move forward.  God did the rest.  So it is with us.

So on this day, our group parked the car, got out and covered the last mile on foot before reaching the trailhead.  I’m so glad we did.  We encountered beauty we would not have otherwise seen if we had given up.

We arrived at the trailhead only to discover that it was very different from any one we’d ever done before.  Most of our hikes had been on pristine, well-manicured trails.  We were expecting something like this:

We got this instead:

We soldiered on.  We went over some obstacles, under others, and around still more.  It began to be more of a personal challenge than a leisurely hike.  We used muscles we hadn’t used in awhile.  Those muscles protested at the time… but we know they’ll be stronger for it in the end.  That’s how challenging seasons in life ARE.  We crave the ease of the trails we remember in the past.  We complain that the current one is too hard.  But as long as we keep MOVING forward, God does something rather incredible.  He makes us stronger for life.  We become people of greater substance. 

Would we trade all that “substance” in a heartbeat for the ease of the former pristine trail?  Probably.  Good thing that’s not an actual option.  The only two options are (1) Keep moving and get stronger or (2) Sit down on the trail you’re ON, and get stuck there.  I don’t know about you… but I prefer option one.  It’s bear season ya know; sitting down may be easier, but it has its disadvantages too.  Scripture describes the bear as a “roaring lion prowling around seeking someone to devour.”  No thanks.  I’ll do my best to keep moving ahead.

We also learned on this particular hike that the definition of “obscure footpath” really is:  “you’ll never know if you are actually ON the trail or not.”  We finally got tired of looking and just started walking.  Do YOU see a footpath anywhere???

In my opinion, these are the hardest seasons in life… times that are so confusing, you’re not sure WHAT trail (if any) you’re actually on.  One day gives way to the next and you wonder if what you’re doing makes any difference in the world at all or whether it is getting you ANYWHERE.  If you could SEE a better path, you’d take it… but there is none in your field of vision.  What do you do THEN?

Well, I don’t know exactly.  I can only tell you that I’ve been on “obscure trails” like that a few times in my life, and what seems to work best for ME is to simply let God know how I’m feeling.  To be honest, sometimes it seems that my prayers just drift off into thin air.  But here’s the thing… I find that nothing actually IMPROVES by stubbornly NOT praying.  So I pray, whether it FEELS powerful in the moment or not – or whether the path before me becomes supernaturally pristine in an instant, or not.  Usually it doesn’t.  But in my confusion, God gently reminds me that He’s working even when I can’t SEE it.  The only issue is whether or not I will trust it.  A verse that has come to mean a lot to me is found in Isaiah 50: “Let he who walks in the dark, who has no light, trust in the name of the LORD and rely on his God.”  Obscure footpaths feel a lot like walking in the dark.

Occasionally, God breaks through that darkness with some tangible encouragement.  He did that for our family last night at Flowery Branch High School.  I really have no words to adequately express how well that public school has loved our family.  I’ll simply say this: I’ve never seen it done better anywhere on the planet.  In the off chance any of you from that community are reading this… please know that we are grateful and are flat out BLOWN AWAY by your love.  Y’all are the best, and we will be Falcons forever.

It was the annual “Gold Out Game”, raising money and awareness for childhood cancer.  At a pregame ceremony, gold and white balloons were released in honor of those in the fight and in memory of those, like Keaton, who were no longer with us.  

Then, Keaton’s #70 jersey was retired.  That number will never again be worn at The Branch.  The team and coaching staff presented Miles and Sharon with a framed jersey to commemorate the occasion.  All very touching, and we will treasure that jersey forever.

But none of that made me cry.  That came later.

Traditionally, the team runs onto the field through the end zone, where the cheerleaders have formed a “spirit line” with a HUGE paper banner raised, seemingly two stories high.  The amped up football team always bursts onto the field of play THROUGH the now-shredded banner to the applause of the fans and to loud music blaring through the speakers.  It’s a festive environment for the home team! 

We waited expectantly.  The banner was raised high and waiting.  It was a great banner honoring the memory of Keaton, as you can see from the photo below.

Before the team approached the end zone from the locker room, something rather incredible and out of the ordinary happened.  A helicopter descended onto the field from the opposite horizon.  It hovered low over the field, around the 50 yard line.  Painted on the side of the helicopter was the number 70.  Seriously?  A HELICOPTER?  I couldn’t believe it!  I snapped photos as fast as my camera would cooperate.

I was awed, and it came awfully close, but even that’s not what made me cry.

The atmosphere was more subdued than usual – perhaps the crowd was impacted by the helicopter as I was… just sort of dumbfounded and wowed.  Then the team appeared from the locker room.  They lined up behind the banner, looking as vast as an army.  The crowd applauded, but the team then did something very unusual.  And THAT, ladies and gentlemen,  is what made me cry.

Rather than run wildly THROUGH the banner as tradition dictates, they walked up to it… then respectfully walked AROUND it, single file, refusing to destroy ANYTHING with the name “Keaton Coker” written on it.  The moment was so utterly FILLED with honor and class that I was completely undone.  I could no longer hold my camera steady to take pictures.  I simply stared at the team in disbelief and amazement, and I flat out wept.  I cried because I miss my nephew, but I also cried because he was so obviously well loved.  Isn’t that the mark of a life well lived?

One more discovery awaited us.  The team had warmed up in their regular uniforms.  But a quick trip to the dressing room enabled them to change those regular jerseys for special gold ones.  They weren’t special because they were gold, although that was cool.  They were special because each and every player's jersey was emblazoned with the name “Coker” on the back.  Incredible.

There were other special touches during the evening... too many to list in a blog post that's already twice as long as it should be.  Things like this:

Did the “obscure path” that our family is walking suddenly become pristine after the football game last night?  No, it didn’t.  But today we continue our journey through grief with fresh encouragement.  Today we feel stronger and we are more able to “trust in the name of the LORD, and rely on our God.”

Thank you Flowery Branch High School for an incredible evening.  We love you, but most of all, we're grateful for the way you loved Keaton.

Not everybody gets a helicopter when they need some encouragement on an obscure path.  But God hears every prayer... and the God who goes to prepare a place for us, won't leave us without a way to get there.  Ask Him if you need encouragement.  I think He's good for it.