11 Years Ago Today

Eleven years ago today Dad was under the knife ... unexpected open heart surgery ... triple bypass the result. We read all of that this evening in Mum's Daily Light, where Mum used to note the events of each day in the margin and which Dad reads every day. It's a history of our family, along with the ever-present backdrop of God's faithfulness



This evening, Dad stood up to preach in the little Baptist church housed in the tiny old Orthodox building in Kindersley.

This evening is also notable because it is the first series of sermons he has been able to preach since we thought we were losing him in January.

Truly God has His hand on Dad!

 His text for the evening was from Isaiah chapter 44, verses 21 and 22:

Isaiah 44:21-22

King James Version (KJV)

21 Remember these, O Jacob and Israel; for thou art my servant: I have formed thee; thou art my servant: O Israel, thou shalt not be forgotten of me.

22 I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy sins: return unto me; for I have redeemed thee.

He spoke of the five things this passage tells us to remember -

• You are My servant
• I have formed you
• I will never forget you
• I have blotted out all your sin, all your failings
• I have redeemed you; indeed I paid the ultimate price for you.

And in exchange, there is one thing He asks us to do -

• Return unto Me

It seems so little to ask in return, really. And, like the prophet Malachi, in chapter 3 and verse 7, states: " Return to Me and I will return to you." He is more than willing to meet us more than half-way.

This evening as we rested in our motel room - loving provided for us by the church - Dad read from the Psalms, as is his wont:

Psalm 116

King James Version (KJV)

116 I love the Lord, because he hath heard my voice and my supplications.

2 Because he hath inclined his ear unto me, therefore will I call upon him as long as I live.

3 The sorrows of death compassed me, and the pains of hell got hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow.

4 Then called I upon the name of the Lord; O Lord, I beseech thee, deliver my soul.

5 Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; yea, our God is merciful.

6 The Lord preserveth the simple: I was brought low, and he helped me.

7 Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.

8 For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling.

9 I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living.

10 I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted:

11 I said in my haste, All men are liars.

12 What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits toward me?

13 I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord.

14 I will pay my vows unto the Lord now in the presence of all his people.

15 Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.

16 O Lord, truly I am thy servant; I am thy servant, and the son of thine handmaid: thou hast loosed my bonds.

17 I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving, and will call upon the name of the Lord.

18 I will pay my vows unto the Lord now in the presence of all his people.

19 In the courts of the Lord's house, in the midst of thee, O Jerusalem. Praise ye the Lord.

Dad is God's servant; God still is using Dad, whether it be praying for people, speaking one on one with someone, conducting his Bible studies on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, singing, writing.

Or whether it be preaching.

As the last verse says, Praise the Lord ...

Advent 2013, Week 2: Peace for the Waiting

He sat slumped in his chair in the corner, for the first time since I have known him unable to summon a smile. "It's been two years now," he said softly.

She sent me a note. The birth mother had changed her mind: 

Just a bit ago we got a call from [her] birth mom, and she's reconsidering, and wants to come pick [her] up tomorrow. Throughout this whole process I've guarded my heart so carefully, and I do feel like even last night The Lord reminded me that we only have any child for the days he numbers.. But this is really hard, and our hearts are a mess right now. We appreciate your prayers, and really long to be able to say that all the time The Lord is good. Thanks for interceding for us. It's really hard to right now.

Last month Dad spoke to a local congregation, a message he entitled Here and Now. (To hear the whole thing, click here and then scroll over until you see Dr. Allan Ironside 11-17-13; follow that link).

Here speaks to place; now speaks to time, Dad prefaced his sermon. We all live in a here and a now.

He turned our attention toward the Gospel of Luke, chapter 1, to the story of an elderly couple whose names were Elisabeth and Zechariah. Their here and now was Jerusalem in the rule of one of the terrible despot Herods. It was an awful time to be living, and yet despite everything they carried on with their lives and their callings.

Dad broke it down quite simply as follows:

Their character: In spite of their surroundings and difficulties, both Elisabeth and Zechariah were righteous before God. Zechariah was actually a priest in the temple.

Their problem: 1) Elisabeth is unable to have a child; and 2) they are both old.

"Consider what Elisabeth experienced!" Dad exclaimed. Verse 25 speaks of her reproach - for all those years she lived under a cloud of shame and disgrace. Very often in eastern cultures, even today, a woman who fails to bear a child is almost a pariah. "Elisabeth lives with this, and Zechariah feels it," Dad reminded us. 

Zechariah had been praying for years that they would have a child, but to no avail. "Sometimes we have to face delays in our lives: this was no yellow light - it was a red light." There was a sense of failure, a cloud of sorrow and helplessness in their home. 

And yet, through it all, the two of them remained righteous and blameless before God. They carried on loving him and serving him despite the burden they bore ...

Dad then got us to turn to Isaiah 28:23-29, where the prophet is insistent that we pay attention to what God is saying. "Give ear!" he urges. "Hear my voice! Hearken! Hear my speech!" We are to listen carefully and with intelligence; we are to respond with obedience.

Then the prophet talks about the different stages of growing a crop. First the soil must be prepared - but that is not forever. The land must be tilled. Next the seed appropriate to the soil is planted - not all the same seed.  And when it comes time to harvest, the crop is not extracted the same way - it depends on the crop itself.

God is the one who instructs this farmer on how to proceed, on how to make the best decisions for the most abundant crop. God wants what is best for us and he is wonderful in his leading. We ourselves might not understand his purposes; we might be confused as to what it is he is doing in our lives; but we have to believe that he wants the very best for us.

These verses in Isaiah tell us that God knows the best PLACE and the best TIME and MEANS to attain his purpose in our lives. And because we are all different, he deals with us in the best way for us.

Back to Zechariah and Elisabeth: Zechariah is serving in the temple when the angel makes the announcement that the elderly Zechariah and Elisabeth will have a child.

Six months later, the angel comes to a teenage girl and tells her that she, too, will be having a child. "Your cousin Elisabeth is also pregnant," the angel assures her. "With God, nothing is impossible."

And Mary decides to go visit her cousin. It would have been a long journey for a sheltered, frightened girl. But suddenly, one day, she was at Elisabeth's house - what a wonderful surprise for Elisabeth!

What was even more amazing were the words that tumbled from Elisabeth's wise old mouth when she saw this young cousin of hers:

Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold, when the sound of your greeting came to my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord. (Luke 1:42-45)

These words could never have been uttered by Elisabeth if she had not had to undergo all the pain, the disappointment, the waiting, the scorn, that she had spent decades of her life living with.

Listen to Zechariah when John, their son, was born:

68 Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
    for he has visited and redeemed his people
69 and has raised up a horn of salvation for us
    in the house of his servant David,
70 as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,
71 that we should be saved from our enemies
    and from the hand of all who hate us;
72 to show the mercy promised to our fathers
    and to remember his holy covenant,
73 the oath that he swore to our father Abraham, to grant us
74     that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies,
might serve him without fear,
75     in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
76 And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
    for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
77 to give knowledge of salvation to his people
    in the forgiveness of their sins,
78 because of the tender mercy of our God,
    whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high
79 to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
    to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Luke 1:68-79)

Their extraordinary gift of a son, the one who would come to be known as John the Baptizer, the one who proclaimed the coming of the Messiah, his cousin and Lord, Jesus.

John had been born at the exact right time. If Elisabeth had had him when she was a young woman - if she had not had to wait for God's time and place - there would have been no special encouragement for Mary in her unique situation, no extra measure of understanding and joy from her cousin. The words "with God nothing is impossible" would not have been uttered - they would not have been appropriate if John's was an ordinary birth.

Elisabeth and Zechariah could look back at the barren years culminating in their deepest heart's desire being fulfilled and say, "We just wanted a child. But think of what God has given us - far more than we could have imagined or hoped for!" 

It was all worth it.

Think for a moment of the mighty King David who, after coming through an inordinate amount of suffering and danger, exclaimed joyfully, "As for God, His way is perfect ... and He makes my way perfect" (2 Samuel 22:31-33).

Elisabeth and Zechariah: two people living in a real world with real problems and unbearable heartache. We may not have their burdens exactly; we may not understand why - though we pray and pray and try to live upright lives - our burdens don't go away, why it seems like God is not answering our prayer.

The old southern funeral hymn starts with these lines:

I like to think my Father knows,

My Father knows it all ...

That's the here and the now. We don't necessarily see the breaking up of the soil, the harrowing,  the seeding, the harvesting, the threshing out in our lives. But when the day comes that all is revealed, we will say, "This is far more than I could have imagined!"

The stories of my two friends mentioned at the beginning continue - he was asked for a continuance into the new year.

And she - there is another sweet baby, a little one determined to keep her cracked heart open and tender. Her beautiful son - she will love him as long as God gives her strength, as long as He gives her him.

Like Elisabeth, she will never entirely forget the anticipation and the sorrow, the high hopes and the ensuing pain that went before. But she can say with the wise author of Ecclesiastes: "He has made everything beautiful in his time" (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

We just need to learn to rest, in peace, in Him.

Selah. 

Just As I Am

Tuesday morning I take my lunch hour from 10:00 - 11:00 and go to the Robertson Manor to play hymns on the little electric keyboard our friend Don sets up so faithfully each week. And I go to hear my Dad share a word of encouragement with "The Oldies" who gather to sing and share and pray and be blessed. 

Plus, we have snacks!

This morning was no different. There is no guest parking on site so Dad gets celebrity parking in the loading zone, per great kindness of Duane who runs the place. I parked across the road and met Dad at his car, to carry in the box of Dad's specialty chocolate cake that Deb had made ("under my instruction," he informed me!) and to carry in his Bible.

For me, getting to carry in his Bible is one of the greatest honours I receive. I feel like the flag bearer at the Olympics leading the way for Usain Bolt, where you know a gold medal is virtually guaranteed.

Brenda or Wes opens the door for us. Today it was Wes, smiling, welcoming. When Wes is there, it's another sign that it's going to be a great little meeting, because he is a man of deep faith and he prays that "Pastor Ironside" will have the words God wants him to say, the strength he needs to keep sharing God's love with people, and that each soul present will be blessed.

We start the little meeting off by singing three songs, people's choice. The last song we sang today, chosen by our dear Julie - who also made cookies for us! - was that ancient beauty Just As I Am:

Just as I am, without one plea, 
but that thy blood was shed for me, 
and that thou bidst me come to thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

Just as I am, and waiting not 
to rid my soul of one dark blot, 
to thee whose blood can cleanse each spot, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

Just as I am, though tossed about 
with many a conflict, many a doubt, 
fightings and fears within, without, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind; 
sight, riches, healing of the mind, 
yea, all I need in thee to find, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

Just as I am, thou wilt receive, 
wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve; 
because thy promise I believe, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

Just as I am, thy love unknown 
hath broken every barrier down; 
now, to be thine, yea thine alone, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come. 

(Charlotte Elliot, 1789-1871)

As the last notes died away, Dad asked if anyone had read today's devotional from Oswald Chambers'  My Utmost for His Highest. "It ties in exactly with thesong we have just sung!" he exclaimed.

This is what it says:

Coming to Jesus



10

08

2013



Come to Me . . . —Matthew 11:28



Isn’t it humiliating to be told that we must come to Jesus! Think of the things about which we will not come to Jesus Christ. If you want to know how real you are, test yourself by these words— “Come to Me . . . .” In every dimension in which you are not real, you will argue or evade the issue altogether rather than come; you will go through sorrow rather than come; and you will do anything rather than come the last lap of the race of seemingly unspeakable foolishness and say, “Just as I am, I come.” As long as you have even the least bit of spiritual disrespect, it will always reveal itself in the fact that you are expecting God to tell you to do something very big, and yet all He is telling you to do is to “Come . . . .”

“Come to Me . . . .” When you hear those words, you will know that something must happen in you before you can come. The Holy Spirit will show you what you have to do, and it will involve anything that will uproot whatever is preventing you from getting through to Jesus. And you will never get any further until you are willing to do that very thing. The Holy Spirit will search out that one immovable stronghold within you, but He cannot budge it unless you are willing to let Him do so.

How often have you come to God with your requests and gone away thinking, “I’ve really received what I wanted this time!” And yet you go away with nothing, while all the time God has stood with His hands outstretched not only to take you but also for you to take Him. Just think of the invincible, unconquerable, and untiring patience of Jesus, who lovingly says, “Come to Me. . . .”



As I looked around the table, I saw those old saints nodding in agreement. I thought to myself, We think of that song and we sing that song as though it is only a song to get people to walk the aisle at the end of a church service, while in this very room we have people tossed about with fears, conflicts, doubts; we have the blind; we have those whose spouses yearn for healing of the mind for their beloved one; we have those who are indigent. No wonder they sang with such fervour, "Just as I am ... O Lamb of God, I come!"









These wonderful old people, who are being nudged inexorably, day by day, closer to the very presence of the one to whom they were singing, offered the words as a prayer of hope and encouragement.






And I was so very, very grateful for the reminder that just as I am, with all my sin and trouble and pain, I too can come and leave it all with the Lamb of God, who wants more than anything to have me come to him and trust him with everything I have.

Autumn Leaves

We were finishing lunch in the cafeteria on the ground floor of Carswell's head office. Suddenly my manager went outside to the patio and returned with the biggest leaf I'd ever seen.

"Here you are - an autumn leaf from Ontario for you," she announced.

This afternoon I thought of something my Dad had said at one time or another, something about how the autumn leaves don't have to be shaken or pulled off the tree; they will fall in their own good time, making way for the tender green buds to emerge in the spring. We can't force their hand or speed up the cycle of life in a tree by trying to strip off the old, dead leaves. We just have to wait.

Like a butterfly fighting to emerge from its chrysalis: if we were to try to cut open that fragile strongbox, the butterfly will not develop strength enough to enable it to spread its wings and finally flutter upward and away.

Like cracked ribs.

Like bananas. Sure you can pick them up in the grocery store, all golden and no black flecks, the result of careful heat-lamp ripening. But their flavour is negligible compared with the sweet, sun-ripened fruit we enjoy in Kerala. 

And that's sort of like the cycle of our own life too, isn't it? We might want to see something happen with all due despatch - after all, we know that the anticipated event will inevitably take place - but certain things cannot, must not, be rushed.

Like grief. It charts its course and commands us to come along. But grace comes along as well; and the two of them will come to an understanding if we only draw strength from what each has to teach us.

The great King Solomon's "journal," Ecclesiastes, reads in the third chapter and verse 11, "He has made every thing beautiful in his [its] time."

We just have to wait, thankful that there is a time and a season for everything.

And we can revel in the crisp chill of this vivid season as it ushers out the heat of summer and buffers us from the cold to come.

_____________________________________________________

(Here's one of my favourite versions of that old standard, "Autumn Leaves," sung by the incomparable Eva Cassidy. Eva and her music only became known outside her immediate circle five years after her death from cancer in 1996. She was 33.)

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Perhaps Patricia

At the beginning of 1959, just before my Dad was to set sail from Port Arthur, Texas, for Bombay, India, he stopped for a few days with his elder sister, Mary, who lived in Texas at the time.

And he got to meet and know Mary's eldest child, Patricia. Patty.

Dad forged a bond with Patty in that short time that remains to this day. As a matter of fact it's flitted through my mind, like a breeze through sheets hanging on a clothes line on a fragrant summer afternoon, that the warmth of Dad's affection for his little Patty predisposed him - a stranger in a strange land - to look toward a familiar name when he heard it, to look in the direction of another girl named Patricia, a girl with brown eyes and an enormous heart who would become his wife a couple of years later.

My eldest cousin, Patty stayed with Dad for the last few days and was with us yesterday, the sixth anniversary of Mum's death.

Eight yellow flowers growing on one stem ...

Both our Patricias know what it is to suffer. Like Mum, Patty has undergone brutal treatment for cancer - and, also like Mum, her indomitable spirit and her deep strength of character have carried her through.

Like Mum, Patty is warm and loving.

She's quick and funny.

She connects with people.

She came along with Dad to the Manor on Tuesday and to our Wednesday TH Bible study yesterday - the actual anniversary of Mum's death. 

Dad is guiding us through Paul's tiny letter to Philemon on Wednesday evenings - you'd think that it would take one study, right?! But Dad is revealing a wealth of meaning and such a source of challenge and comfort through this little book.

This Wednesday he addressed three topics: Prayer, Human Nature, and The Providence of God, all as seen in the letter to Philemon.

The providence of God has been defined by Henry C. Thiessen in his book Lectures in Systematic Theology:

Etymologically, the word “providence” means foreseeing. From this basic
idea has developed the meaning of providing for the future. But in theology
the word has received a more specialized meaning. In this field, “providence”
means that continuous activity of God whereby he makes all the events of
the physical, mental, and moral realms work out his purpose, and this
purpose is nothing short of the original design of God in creation. To be sure,
evil has entered the universe, but it is not allowed to thwart God’s original,
benevolent, wise, and holy purpose. [Emphasis added is the part Dad quoted.]

(1989: Wm B Eerdmans Publishing Company, Grand Rapids, Michigan, p. 122 ff)


Dad asked the question "If God is not the author of sin, how do we explain the horrible acts of sin if God is ruling over all? How is God related to [humankind's] sinful acts?"

Providence, Dad went on to say, is manifest in four ways:

Preventative Providence, where God restrains a person from the sin he or she is intending to commit: Genesis chapter 20 verse 6 is an example of this.

Permissive Providence is where God sometimes permits sin to take its course: the book of Acts chapter 1 and verse 16, and Psalm 81 verse 12 is God telling how He let people go their own way.

Directive Providence is where God allows evil to occur, but He directs the way it goes in order to accomplish His will: John 13:21-27 is the tragic vignette where Jesus tells Judas Iscariot to "do quickly" what he intends to do.

Restrictive Providence reveals God determining the limits to which evil and its effects may go: the book of Job chapter 1 verse 12, and chapter 2 verse 6 shows God saying to Satan, "So far, but no further."

In the letter to Philemon Paul is pleading with his friend for mercy to be extended to the latter's runaway slave, Onesimus. In the 15th verse Paul says, with great gentleness and insight, Perhaps he left you for a while so that he would return to you forever ...

The word perhaps in Philemon opens the door to the doctrine of Providence, Dad commented.

The other notable occasion the sense of this word is used is in the little book telling the story of Queen Esther: Esther chapter 4 and verse 14 gives us Mordecai, Esther's uncle, speaking to her fairly sternly regarding her responsibility to her people. "Who knows whether [Perhaps] you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?"

There is more written in the Bible about the providence of God than about creation, Dad observed; and yet the word itself is never used. God cares about every aspect of our lives - if it's big enough for you to be concerned about, it's big enough for God to be concerned about. He has known us and cared about us from before we were born.

As I sat across the room from my beautiful cousin, who had no idea when she planned her itinerary that she would be here on such a significant date to our part of the family, I thought of her and my arms entwined as we shed tears and supported each other in remembering our mothers at Mum's graveside. I thought of the songs we sang, BA, Dad, Patty and I, into the sting of cold air that held no victory that day. 

For each one of us who has watched helplessly while a dream dies and we are left with a yawning hole stretched out before us, perhaps there is more to this story as we trace the providence of God working its mysterious way through our life? I think of my own life, of dreams that shattered or shifted last year and this one. Now, in hindsight, I can see the hand of God smoothing the way for me, guiding me in a new way, restoring my soul in ways I could not have imagined at the time.

And I thought to myself, Perhaps Patty was with us on this particularly hard anniversary, both for us and for her?

"Praise the Lord for the word perhaps ..." Dad ended.

  

This Time Last Year

At exactly this time last year I was standing at the foot of your bed, watching you. Your eyes were closed, and your breathing was belaboured again. I was just wondering if I should call the nurse to suction out your airwaves when she appeared. 

As she prepared to do what she had to do, you naturally became agitated. I slipped to the right side of your bed as she worked on the left, and I gripped one of your enormous hands with both of mine.

"Brian, it's okay. This will make you feel better. Try to relax ..."

Suddenly I felt your hand gripping back, the pressure increasing as the suction tube invaded your throat. Your eyes opened and you looked sidewards to your left at me. Our eyes locked and great drops of sweat broke out on your forehead. Your eyes mirrored the pain you were in, and my "encouraging words" faded into suddenly thin air. We just stared at each other, hanging on for dear life.

When it was over, you looked at me. Thank you, you said, softly but distinctively. Your eyes fluttered shut, exhausted. 

I got a cool, damp facecloth and gently wiped your forehead, allowing the refreshing cloth to rest on the top of your head as I had seen your beloved Char do countless times.

That was the last time I was to see your blue, blue eyes. 

Those were the last words you spoke, as far as we know.

It was just like you to express gratitude with your fading breath!

I had stopped by your room at about 10 pm on September 3, armed with my Daily Light and a soft pashmina shawl. I had arrived back from Calgary half an hour earlier and suddenly felt strongly that I needed to go to the hospital and spell Char off for a stretch.

Hesitantly I offered and gratefully she accepted. She was able to catch about four hours' sleep, which gave her the strength she needed to be beside you, watching you enter the gates of heaven the next morning.

The two nurses on duty during the night, Miriam and Karen, recognized my ignorance and incompetence while understanding my good intentions; they very kindly stopped by your room every single half hour to make sure everything was okay and to reassure both of us. 

I had been singing to you; praying for you and Char, and Rebecca and Bob; reading, both to you and silently; and just sitting at your side, wrapped in my pashmina, watching your face.

As you calmed and seemed to rest more easily, I sat back in the comfortable arm chair and became conscious of the comprehensive softness, the fluidity, of the shawl under which I was sheltering. And my mind flipped back to the previous Sunday, when Dad spoke from the book of Ruth. He focused on Boaz, the eventual husband of Ruth.

The story of Ruth from Moab is quite well known to many of us: she marries the handsome foreigner and is accepted by her mother-in-law; her husband, brother-in-law and father-in-law all die; her mother-in-law, Naomi, can't stand to be away from her home country any more so she tells her two daughters-in-law to go home and get on with their lives. They both demur, saying they'll stay with her. She insists; one goes back, but Ruth refuses to leave Naomi (isn't it interesting that one of the most romantic passages often used in weddings is actually spoken by a daughter-in-law to her mother-in-law?! Go figure ...).

In extreme brief: Naomi settles back into her community; Ruth sets out to get food for them and - it being harvest time - starts gleaning the left-over and missed crop in the fields of a wealthy land owner, who turns out to be a distant relative of Naomi; several exciting plot turns; Ruth and the wealthy land owner, named Boaz, get married and have a son, Obed, who has a son named Jesse, who has a son named David - and David becomes the second king of Israel.

What was of great interest to me, however, was what Dad had to say about Boaz's lineage. Boaz's father's name was Salmon. Salmon is derived from the root word simla, meaning garment or raiment. The book of Genesis, chapter 9 and verse 23 uses the same word, where two of Noah's son's took a garment and covered up their drunk, naked father. The word cover takes the meaning assuming the shape of the object beneath. The book of Deuteronomy chapter 8 and verse 4 exhorts the children of Israel to remember that for 40 years their garments didn't grow old or tattered on them. A soft garment doesn't care what size or shape you are; it takes your shape and offers protection and cover for you.

What Dad did then in the little Hanna church was get his childhood friend, Doreen, up on the platform. Then he gently placed a soft pink shawl over her shoulders. The shawl immediately adjusted to her posture and the angle of her back - it took her shape. The same shawl would look quite different on someone else, Dad commented.

The shawl reminded Dad of what God did for us. The book of Romans chapter 8 and verse 3 tells us that God sent his own son, who took on the shape of sinful humankind - our own personal simla! - and became the offering for our sin. Jesus himself covers us, protecting us from the dreadful consequences of our own wrong doing, if we accept his offer of salvation. Just like Ruth in the fields of Boaz, there is nothing we can do to earn this covering; all we have to do is accept it.

I was thinking of all of this when I sat at the foot of your bed, Brian, after the nurse had left. And on impulse I rose, unwrapped my soft shawl from around me and placed it gently over your torso and legs. You were lying so still, the only sound in the room your stertorous breathing. The shawl settled into the hillocks and hollows of your shape under the covers - it took on your shape. I prayed then into the silence, asking God to cover you with his protection and peace and rest. I asked him to assure you of his covering as you walked through that last valley.

Your breathing eased and you slipped into sleep. I left the shawl where it lay and stood watch over you until it was time for me to leave. There was no need for lung clearing for the rest of my time with you.

And I realized that these hours with you and with God comprised one of the most holy, one of the most peaceful, nights I had ever spent. I had been given the inestimable privilege of standing at the foot of your bed, knowing I was standing on holy ground: God himself was covering that whole room. His protection never left your room until he took you with him the following morning...

Your dear Char crept back into the room somewhere between 3:00 and 3:30 and was with you for the rest of your journey here on earth.

Char's new toy!

She's doing okay, Brian. She is a woman of uncommon valour and courage. She is picking up the pieces of her life without you and is pressing on. The latest step on her journey is a camper she got in order to continue enjoying one aspect of life that you two enjoyed together for as long as you could. She helps out at the TH whenever I need her and she is taking on new academic and professional challenges. You would be so proud of her.


In many ways, you each - notable, independent people in your own separate right - had provided that soft, adaptable covering, that uncommonly delicate layer of protection, for each other. 

Her earthly covering has indeed been removed with your death; but she is finding solace, more and more, under her heavenly simla. She has always placed her confidence and trust in her heavenly Father; now she is claiming, from the yawning crevasse of her sorrow and loneliness, the promise from the 91st Psalm, "He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings shall you trust ... because you have made the Lord your habitation."

As tenderly as God covered you in your hospital room, Brian, he is covering her in her life after you.  But you are never far from her thoughts and always in her heart.

And oh, how she misses you ...

Kerala: "His Precious Ones"

In Dad's ministry and work he was privileged to travel with a team of some of the finest men ever to pass through the College's halls.

G.S. Nair
V.G.Philip
Joy Benjamin
Mathai Varughese

These men comprised the Kerala Gospel Team and they worked tirelessly in the villages, travelling, sleeping, eating, speaking, ministering, praying, weeping, laughing, helping the locals in whatever way they could - all in often merciless heat and what would seem to us softies today like untenable conditions.

Dad worked right alongside them. He slept on thin straw mats outside the front door of houses where the home was already too tiny for even the family that inhabited it. He ate the food that all the people ate. He drank water from wells and streams and other questionable sources.

As Mathai said in his introduction of Dad at a chapel service, "I do not know whether he travelled with us or whether we travelled with him."

He poured his life into these men, teaching, listening, discipling, counselling, leading by example. There was nothing that they could eat, nowhere that they could go, no one that they could speak to, that he too would not do the same. He stayed in their homes, was involved in their weddings, followed their progress even after the members of the team struck out on their own for different aspects of ministry.

He loved them wholeheartedly, unconditionally. He was always available to them. He showed them that the work they were called to do is a joy and a privilege, not drudgery.

Mathan, one of the next generation of these men, introduced Dad at the chapel hour a couple of years ago when we visited as "a good friend to God". 

And this time when he came back home to be with them, all they wanted was be near him, to love him and to do even the slightest thing to show him how much he means to them.

GS Nair was unable to be there and, sadly, was unable to work his schedule to see Dad at all this time. But Philip and Mathai, Mathan and OJ John were there.

The following are a couple of series of pictures that capture in a slight way the depth of affection Dad and "his boys" have for each other:

Mathai introducing "my Sir" at Chapel

The first day in Chapel:

Dad going up to speak:
"These men are very precious to me"

After Chapel - Philip had traveled quite some
distance to be able to see and hear him again!

Another happy surprise - OJ John ...

Dad and the boys leaving chapel

Mathai and Dad sharing a laugh

They just wanted to make things easy for him throughout his brief visit with them. As we got to the shade of the office building, they cracked young coconut and gave us glasses of the refreshing coconut water. There is NOTHING like that coconut water on a hot Kerala afternoon ...



But what they really wanted to do was sit and talk with him. Philip came over first:

BA and Deb joined them, enjoying the stories and the reminiscing. Then they noticed that Mathai and Mathan were hovering close by, so they willingly gave up their chairs and perched on the perimeter of that close-knit circle.

Four old friends enjoying each other

We all trooped off for lunch when Dad was a little bit rested. Sadly, Philip was heading back to his place immediately after lunch, so he said a heartfelt goodbye to Dad in the cool of the dining room:

Mathai taking charge of the O2 concentrator
after chapel

The next day no one kept him chatting for too long after the coconut water was consumed - the day was extremely hot and they were concerned for their Sir's well being. They led him tenderly into the office, and there he found a bed - placed there so that he wouldn't have to climb the severely steep stairs up to the guest suite above the office - taking up the bulk of the office floor space ... They made sure he was comfortable and then everyone cleared out to allow him a few moments to rest.

When Dad arose it was time for lunch, and not a moment sooner. This day, Mathai rarely left Dad's side; and Dad didn't mind a bit.

If Dad is a good friend to God, Mathai is a good friend to Dad. In many ways he has modeled his ministry on Dad's, coming quietly alongside people and leading them by example; by quiet words of direction, correction and encouragement; by giving them his time and his undivided attention. I happened to step out on the back verandah of the college dining room to wash my hands after eating. There I saw Mathai walking with a young student, his hand on the younger man's shoulder exactly like Dad's hand had been on his as they walked together to the dining room. He was building up this man who was in fact not much more than a boy still and who had come to tell Mathai of some silly error the boy had made.

The other bond that Mathai and Dad have is an extremely rare one. Because they travelled so extensively together through the villages of Kerala, Mathai was more often than not Dad's translator when the latter preached. Dad would speak in English and Mathai would translate into the local tongue. People have said about the two of them that they were so in sync it was like one man speaking.

On the Sunday morning we were there, they asked Dad to preach at the local church. Mathai was right next to him to translate; there was no question that it would be he who stood next to his Sir that morning. The clip below is just shy of 12 minutes long. In the first five minutes Mathai introduces Dad to the congregation in words so tender and heartfelt that my heart was filled to bursting point; and as Dad responds just before he begins the sermon, my heart overflowed.

The message went on for close to an hour - rather short for what they are used to! - and people were blessed and challenged and moved by what they heard. The presence of God was very real that morning in that simple, humble church building with the raw, uneven concrete steps and the dog barking incessantly outside.

As they were leaving, Dad looked over at where Mathai was standing and, with a smile in his eyes and lurking at the corners of his mouth, he commented: "It was like we have never parted ..."

From 2012: Dad with some of his boys - and Debbie, the daughter of GS Nair, one of his original boys, who has also entered the ministry and teaches at the college!