I finished my second unit of CPE two weeks ago, amid a great sense of achievement and at the same time a hunger for more (this dichotomy is a great thing, in my opinion – I don’t ever want to lose the desire to learn). My fellow residents and I, along with our supervisor, celebrated the day with a catered lunch (okay, it was from Subway, but who cares? It was free – yes, you CAN get a free lunch!), then took pictures in front of the hospital before heading out a few hours early. On my way out of the office, I cast a cursory glance over the shelves of our small library, and a title stood out to me: INTERCESSORY PRAYER. It stood out because I am cultivating a habit of constant prayer for the patients with whom I meet as one of my spiritual disciplines. When I picked it up, the author’s name stuck out to me: James G.K. McClure, who has such strong ties to the seminary from which I graduated that a few years ago his family endowed a professorship in his name, in the area of Theological Education. I read the first few pages that afternoon, with hungry eyes and an open heart. What stood out to me was the area in which he refers to Jesus’ final words to His Disciples in the Gospel of John, starting with chapter 14, are the best loved words in the Bible.
The following morning when I was making rounds in the ICU to which I’m assigned, I checked on a new patient, an 80-something woman who’d been brought in during the night with severe renal problems. I spoke extensively with one of her sons, who it turns out is a minister and heads a non-denominational church gathering in a neighboring suburb of New Orleans. Once weekly, he and many other area pastors meet for an hour of intercessory prayer, and then head over to Bourbon Street to offer the same for anyone willing and interested who wants to pray. I was fascinated by what he had to say, and we spent a very long time discussing the state of the Church, the problems inherent in organized religion and the deepest spiritual needs of people. Of course we spoke about his mother as well. He had a very healthy attitude toward the entire situation, which is to say that he was not optimistic that she would survive, but happy that she’d had a long life and entirely certain that she was destined for an afterlife. In fact, his family was given the gift of forewarning – an extra week of preparing themselves for the inevitable. One week previously, Mom had been hospitalized when her kidneys shut down. She loved prayer, her son said, and one of the pastors at his weekly meeting, who is from Western Africa, went in to her room to pray over her. As he explains it, he does not pray for healing because in his theology, that is presumptuous. Instead he prays for the presence of God to be felt. While he prayed, he later told the son, the Holy Spirit spoke to him and said, “It is not yet her time. Command her kidneys to begin functioning.” He was flabbergasted by this, but did so – and so it came to pass, much to the amazement of the medical staff. I love to hear stories like this one; they only reaffirm my faith.
This time, her son was less optimistic, but I had a lovely time meeting him and his family Thursday afternoon. Afterward I went into the chapel to pray for a while, and as I left I noticed that the enormous Bible had been closed by someone. Recalling what I’d read in Dr. McClure’s book the previous day, I opened it to John 14 and then left the hospital. Friday morning I went to follow up on her, as I’d promised, but her room was empty – she’d been taken somewhere for a medical procedure. Though I searched for family, I could not find them and so went about my rounds. I got the call just as I sat down to lunch; she simply hadn’t been strong enough to survive this time. When I arrived in her room, another son (she had seven children!) introduced himself. He’d arrived late the previous evening and spent time with his mother, then went down to the chapel to pray. Aside from liking the design of the chapel very much (everyone does; it’s a lovely interfaith chapel with a great serenity to it) he said that he’d looked at the Bible after he prayed, and how it was as if God was speaking to him personally – how grateful he was that it was open to John 14, that that was just exactly what he needed to read. I responded, “I’m glad, because it was I who opened it to that chapter late yesterday afternoon.” We were both so delighted that we couldn’t wait to tell his brother the pastor.
It’s episodes like this one that I want to blog about, not only to keep a record of the miracle but also to share it with others. Surely there is no better message of comfort for us when we’re hurting – not only the words themselves, but how they were delivered to the right person at the right time because of the Spirit’s work within me. So rarely do we enjoy this direct communication with God that it’s all the more precious when it takes place. So for everyone who sometimes wonders what will happen: here’s a message for you to take to the New Year with you: there are many mansions in the Lord’s House, and a place is being prepared for all those who trust in God’s promises. Yes, the Bible says that Jesus told His disciples this, but this time someone got it directly from God: there IS a better place for all those who depart this world.
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