On a recent vacation to Texas I witnessed another one of those times when God weaves things together. On Sunday morning we traveled to the Crestwood Baptist Church in Beaumont, Texas. We had stayed at this church the last two years when we had come down for mission trips and my friend's cousin is married to the Pastor so we have some connections. It was wonderful to walk into a church you hadn't been to in a year and feel the welcome of people you knew or recognized.
We had gotten there early so we walked the grounds. Last year the new sanctuary hadn't been completed but now it was so we took a look inside. Actually it's not the sanctuary; that's a later part of the building plan. It was called the worship center. Just before we entered I noticed a newly-planted tree and a memorial that read "In Memory of Caroline". It seemed out of place; the church did not maintain a graveyard and I had never noticed anything like this in our previous visits.
That morning a middle-aged guy got up during worship to speak. He began to tell the story of his daughter, who had died of cancer exactly one year earlier. I recognized him because he had given us directions into Houston the year before to visit with our niece who was at M.D Anderson fighting leukemia. Our niece had passed away in the fall. His daughter had passed away shortly after we had gone back home the previous year. His daughters name was Caroline.
I'm not too quick on the uptake sometimes but I put two and two together. I listened, bawling, as he expressed the pain of losing her yet the joy of knowing she was in heaven, healed. I didn't realize it at the time but we were sitting in the row ahead of his family and his remaining three kids struggled hard as their dad spoke. He wasn't an eloquent speaker; his speech was down-to-earth but powerful. His theology may not have been exact but his ability to show hope in the midst of tragedy spoke volumes.
I felt something break loose and begin to heal in me that morning, a pain that had been there since Jessica had passed away. He spoke the very questions we had asked; why, God? Why didn't you heal her? Why did she have to suffer? Why her of all people? What did she do, what did we do, to deserve this? As he spoke he put the words in my heart and mind.
There was not a dry eye in the house when he finished. Rather than following him up with a sermon Brother Larry simply offered an altar call, then played the piano as he led us in singing "God Will Make a Way" and "This is the Air I Breathe".
As we left the service I realized how the Great Weaver had been at work that morning. Through that simple connection of getting directions the year before I was able to open my heart and mind to the beginning of emotional healing in Christ. Through a Pastor who barely knows who I am, who sees me most likely as my friends friend and would be hard-pressed to remember my name, the Holy Spirit began the work of understanding hope.
Thank you God, for the threads you weave in each of our lives.
