Sunday, September 27, 2015

Pentecost 18, Year B (2015)

Proper 21 :: Numbers 11: 4-6, 10-16, 24-29; Psalm 124; James 5: 13-20; Mark 9: 38-50

This is a homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, given at St. John’s Church, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania, on Sunday, September 27, 2015.

“EGOS AND MINISTRY”
(Homily texts: Numbers 11: 4-6, 10-16,24-29 & Mark 9: 38-50)

Let’s explore the matter of egos and ministry, since, in our Old Testament reading from the Book of Numbers and our gospel reading from Mark both touch on these important issues.

Egos and ministry.

These issues are important because everyone has one (of each):

We each have an ego, that sense of ourselves.

We each have been given a ministry (or ministries) by God.

These two readings, Numbers and Mark, are well suited to one another, for each one has to do with God’s ministers who each thought that they alone were the “approved” avenues of God’s ministry.

In the Book of Numbers reading, someone notices that two men, Eldad and Medad, had not been present when the Lord’s power had been given to the seventy others.  A young man runs and tells Moses that these two men are also prophesying, as the seventy had done.  Notice that Moses asks the young man if he is “jealous” of these two.  Moses captures the motivation for the young man’s report is succinctly.

Jealousy also seems to be at the heart of Jesus’ disciples, as they tell the Lord  that someone else is (successfully) casting out demons in the Lord’s name, someone who is not “following us” (italics mine).  We might surmise that jealousy also lies at the heart of their complaining, for this unnamed person is successfully doing just what they themselves were unable to do a short while earlier.

Egos and ministry.

Jealousy often arises out of an unhealthy sense of ourselves.  Put another way, our egos get in the way of our suitability to successfully carry out the ministries that God has in mind for us.

To see this principle illustrated, let’s return to the gospel text for this morning and look again at what the disciples say to Jesus:  They complain because the successful exorcist isn’t following them.  Isn’t it telling that they don’t say that the individual isn’t following the Lord?

Egos and ministry.  Apparently the disciples have a pretty high opinion of themselves.  Or, perhaps more accurately, we might say that they have an exaggerated opinion of themselves, an ego that’s out-of-control.

Egos and ministry.  Which is more important, our egos or the ministries to which God assigns us?  The answer ought to be obvious.

To be a successful follower of the Lord, our egos must be in a healthy state.  Our egos can’t be out-of-control.  There must be a healthy balance to our egos and our self-appraisal of ourselves.  Egos that are too high, or too low, impede the Lord’s work.  Egos that aren’t sufficiently healthy will cause us to doubt the abilities God has given us, abilities and gifts that are meant to be used in ministry in the Lord’s name.

The truths we have just stated work on the individual level.  But they also work on the corporate level, at the level of parishes or denominations.

A parish can have an unhealthy sense of its own importance in the overall plan that God might have for a community.  To illustrate this point, we might see evidence of a local church that thinks that it, alone, is entitled to carry out a certain ministry.  This principle is also at work when a neighboring church decides to duplicate an already-existing ministry, instead of joining in to support the first one.

At the denominational level, a certain church might feel (or even openly declare) that it, alone, is the preserver of truth.  It might even think that it, alone, is the one, true church.  Looking back into my own personal faith history, I can see that my upbringing was, largely, in a church that regarded itself just that way.  The unspoken conviction in the church of my youth was that they, alone, had inherited God’s truth, and that everyone who disagreed with their positions was wrong, quite simply.

Arrogance of this sort is harmful to our suitability, at the individual and the corporate level, to being suitable ministers of God’s purposes.

A final thought is in order, and it takes the form of a warning.
  • God will work through whomever He chooses to work.  There is no way that we can limit His will.  There is no way that we can put God’s will “in a bottle”.
  • If God cannot with work us, He will work around us, or He will work with someone else.

Egos and ministry.  May we, by the inspiration and direction of the Holy Spirit, put ministries before our egos, in order that we may effectively work in bringing about God’s will in the world and among the people whom He loves.

AMEN.          


            

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Pentecost 17, Year B

Proper 20 :: Jeremiah 11:18–20; Psalm 54; James 3:13–4:8; Mark 9:30–37

The following is a homily by Fr. Gene Tucker which was given at St. John’s Church, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania, on Sunday, September 20, 2015.

“STUCK ON OURSELVES”
(Homily text:  Mark 9: 30 – 37)

We have before us Jesus’ second prediction of His coming passion, that is, His suffering and death in Mark, chapter nine as our gospel reading for this morning.[1]

As Jesus tells His disciples what will happen to Him once they all get to Jerusalem, Mark tells us that, instead of focusing in on what Jesus has to say, the twelve engage in an exercise to try to best one another, trying to vie for first place in God’s kingdom.

We’ll have more to say about the topic of the disciples’ conversation as they made their way on the road back to Capernahum in just a moment.  But to try to enter into the dynamics of what the disciples were doing, let’s use a very common, everyday item to illustrate the focus of their discussion, and their relationship to the Lord and to the ministry that the Lord will entrust to them in due course.  That everyday item is clear packaging tape.

It’s not escaped my notice that a lot of clear packaging tape gets used in the church office, and in my office at home.  It gets used for sealing envelopes.  It gets used for putting labels on things.  And, yes, it even gets used for sealing boxes.

But I suspect that everyone of us has had the experience of trying to unroll a length of tape, only to have it stick to itself, and not to anything else.  If we’re careful, we can untangle it from itself, if the self-adhering tendencies of that sort of tape haven’t gone too far wrong, and we can make use of the tape for its intended purpose.  But sometimes, the tape manages to get stuck to itself so badly that a ball of tangled tape becomes the result.  The only solution, if that is the result, is to discard that ball of worthless tape.

Where tape is concerned, a basic truth is at work here:

Tape is designed to stick to something other than itself.  In order to do that, tape must be able to engage something other than itself.

The same basic truth applies to those of us who would be Jesus’ disciples: 

In order to adhere (stick with) to Jesus, we can’t be stuck on ourselves.

And this comment brings us to the matter of the conversation between the disciples as they walk with Jesus along the way to the region of the Galilee.

The contrast between Jesus’ prediction of His suffering and death, and that of the conversation between the disciples about who would be the most important, couldn’t be more sharp:  Jesus’ is telling His disciples that what will happen represents the deepest and lowest state anyone in the world at that time could descend to.  This statement needs a bit of unpacking, I think:

To suffer death on a cross was to suffer a death that was reserved for the most heinous criminals.  It was a death that was reserved for slaves and for conquered peoples.  In dying such a death, there was an enormous level of shame connected with it, and those who found their way to a cross suffered the loss of all things:  Their dignity, their possessions (including their clothing), their friends and family, and eventually their life.

When the early Christians went out into the world, carrying the Good News of what God had done in sending Jesus Christ, and when they told anyone who would listen about Jesus’ manner of death, the reaction was often one of disbelief, horror, shock and revulsion.  It would be as if we went around telling people today that our beloved leader had been executed as a heinous criminal.  St. Paul captures the reactions of many people in the first century in his letter to the Corinthian church.  In I Corinthians 1: 22 – 23, he writes, “For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Greeks.”  The reason for these reactions is that Jews remembered Moses’ words, contained in Deuteronomy, which reads, “…If a man has committed a crime punishable by death and he is put to death, and you hang him on a tree, his body shall not remain all night on the tree, but you shall bury him the same day, for a hanged man is cursed by God.”  So the Jews regarded one who had suffered that fate as having been cursed by God.  For the Greeks, the idea that the founder and hero of a movement could suffer an awful death what was reserved for the worst criminals went against every one of their ideas about the nature of heroes.

Yet Mark tells us that the disciples did not understand Jesus’ prediction, and that they were afraid to ask Him about it.  Instead, they engage in a version of “Anything you can be, I can be greater” (to quote the familiar song from a Broadway show) as they made their way along the road.

Perhaps the disciples were ashamed of what they had been talking about.  Unfortunately, this isn’t the only time that Jesus’ disciple will engage in a discussion about the pecking order that each of them will enjoy once the Kingdom has come into being.  St. Luke also records just such a conversation in Luke 22: 24 – 26.  The disciples seem to be stuck on themselves.  If that’s the case, then they cannot be stuck on the Lord, and on doing His will.

Perhaps, as St. Peter related his experiences with the Lord to St. Mark, Peter’s recollections forming the basis of Mark’s gospel account,[2] perhaps Peter’s face got a little red as he remembered the ridiculous nature of the discussion that took place along the road that day.  We won’t know if that was the case or not until we get to heaven, but it’s possible that Peter’s remembrances brought a sense of shame and regret as he related them to Mark.

Here, it seems, we come to the central struggle:

·      To be an effective Christian, we must be self-aware.  That is to say, we must be aware of those strengths and talents that God has given us, strengths and talents that we are called to place at God’s feet in service to Him.  And yet, we must be aware of our shortcomings, weaknesses and vulnerabilities, too.

·      We cannot be stuck on ourselves.  Unfortunately, given the culture in which we live, managing not to be stuck on ourselves, managing not to be self-absorbed individuals, is a challenging task, for the contemporary culture is overwhelmingly narcissistic.  Ours is a culture that encourages us to engage fully with ourselves, to the exclusion of most everything else….everything else often also includes God and God’s desire to be in relationship with us.

So then, this is the challenge:  To be self-aware, but not to the extent that we become stuck on ourselves, unable – as a result – to be stuck on God.  For God’s call, to be stuck on Him, enables us to find our truest and best selves.

May the Holy Spirit enable us to become fully self-aware in a healthy sort of way, that we may adhere to God in fidelity, truth and love.

AMEN.          



[1]   Each of the three Synoptic gospel accounts (Matthew, Mark and Luke) contain three such predictions from the Lord about the fate which awaits Him in Jerusalem.  We heard the first prediction in last Sunday’s gospel reading (Mark 8: 27 – 38.  The third prediction can be found in Mark 10: 32 – 34, but this passage does not appear in our Sunday lectionary cycle.
[2]   We know from an early Church bishop, Papias, that Peter was the source for Mark’s gospel account.  Papias tells us that Mark recorded Peter’s experiences, though Mark did not, Papias tells us, record the events “in order” of their happening.

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Pentecost 16, Year B

Proper 19 -- Isaiah 50: 4–9; Psalm 19; James 3: 1–12; Mark 8: 27–38

The following is a homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, given at St. John’s Church, in Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, September 13, 2015.

“MYTH? - OR - MYTH!”

Let’s talk about myth this morning.  And, because this word is used with more than one meaning, it might be best for us to define the ways in which we will talk about myth in this homily.
The word “myth” can be used to mean:
  •        Something that is untrue.  An example would be:  “The earth is flat.”  We know that such a statement is manifestly untrue.
  •        Something that may or may not be true, but which conveys a larger truth (we’ll call this Truth with a capital “T”), a Truth that can’t be known by strictly literal means alone.  Sometimes, poetry expresses such a Truth.  Sometimes, a fable or fairy tale can do the same….one example might be the story of the “Emperor’s New Clothes”.

An example of Truth with a capital “T” comes from my youth:  When we wanted to state an obvious truth, and give in the ring of authority, we would say that the saying or statement came from the fictitious book of Hezekiah in the Bible.  (Of course, everyone knows that Hezekiah was a king of Judah, one of the good kings, who ruled from 715 – 686 BC.  He wasn’t a prophet at all, and there isn’t a book in the Old Testament that bears his name.)  So, for example, we would say that Hezekiah 3: 16 reads:
“He that sitteth on a tack shall surely rise.”
Now this statement conveys a Truth, a Truth with a capital “T”, and that truth is that, if we encounter something that could hurt or harm us, our instinctive move is to get away from that hurtful, harmful thing.  Our instincts, God-given, for self-preservation are at work here. 
In this homily, we’ll look at Jesus’ first prediction of His coming suffering and death, as we read the account in our gospel text for this morning.  This particular passage, in Mark’s account, portrays a critical turning point in the gospel narrative, for Mark tells us that Jesus now said these things about His coming suffering and death “quite openly”.[1]
Jesus’ description of His coming suffering and His death on a cross follow deliberately upon Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Christ, the Messiah, the Anointed One of God.[2]
The overall shape of today’s passage is one that begins on a very high note:  Peter has confirmed Jesus’ true identity as God’s Messiah, the One that God’s people – many of them at least – have been expecting.
But then the trajectory of Jesus’ discourse with his disciples is decidedly downward:  He tells them that He will go to Jerusalem, be rejected by the ruling elite in Jerusalem, and be killed.
The discourse then turns upward again, as He tells them that He will rise again after three days.
Here we have Truth (with a capital “T”):  Jesus enjoys the highest status that can be imagined, for He is God’s Messiah.  But the path this chosen One must follow leads downward to suffering, and then to death.  But then, the path turns upward again as God’s power is revealed in Jesus’ rising from the dead.
The overall pattern is this:  From the heights, Jesus descends to the deepest depths, and ascends again into the heights.
St. Paul captures this trajectory very well as he writes to the early Christians in Philippi:
            “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
            who, though he was in the form of God,
            did not regard equality with God
            as something to be exploited,
            but emptied himself,
            taking the form of a slave,
            being born in human likeness.
            And being found in human form,
            he humbled himself,
            and became obedient unto death –
            even death on a cross.
            Therefore, God has highly exalted him
            and gave him the name
            that is above every name,
            so that at the name of Jesus
            every knee should bend,
            in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
            and every tongue should confess
            that Jesus Christ is Lord,
            to the glory of God the Father.”
            (Philippians 2: 5 – 11)
Here we have this high beginning – lowest depths – highest ending shape of Jesus’ path from the region of Caesarea Philippi to Jerusalem where He is identified as God’s Messiah, to the cross and to the grave, and then to the resurrection on Easter Sunday morning.
The Truth (with a capital “T) here is that the path that Jesus followed, to the deepest depths of dying, is the way of life.  A collect from our Prayer Book (1979 edition) states this truth best:

“Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified:  Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.”
(A Collect for Fridays from the Office of Morning Prayer, page 56, Book of Common Prayer, 1979)
This path is the way that each of us must walk, if we are to follow Christ.  Notice how the Lord applies the Truth (with a capital “T”) to our Christian walk as he says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.  For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it….”
How do we walk this path?  Does the cross lie in our path, literally?
Fortunately, the answer is “No”, there is no literal cross standing before us.[3]
So how do we “empty ourselves”, to borrow from St. Paul’s wonderful description of the Lord’s journey in Philippians?
The answer has to do with our baptisms. In baptism, we enter the waters, exposing ourselves to the danger of death.  (The early Church’s baptismal practices are helpful for us to see the importance of this Truth, for the early Church baptized new converts in bodies of water, fully immersing the baptized three times (in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit)….descending into the water always carries with it the possibility that we could die.)  Using St. Paul’ words, again, this time from his Letter to the Romans, chapter, six, we read that, in baptism, we die a death like Christ’s, and we are raised to a new life in a resurrection like Christ’s.
We empty ourselves before God, knowing that we are totally incapable of helping – or saving – ourselves.  We empty ourselves in the waters of baptism, claiming God’s power that raised Jesus to be a power that can also raise us from our unholy state into a state of acceptance by God.
And this descent into the waters turns out to be the way of life and peace, as the collect says so well.
But the path of Christian discipleship that we walk involves an ongoing emptying of ourselves.  Whenever we are tempted to shut God out of an area of our lives, our baptisms call us to open the closed doors to God, to surrender whatever we have reserved for ourselves as an “off-limits” area to God’s omniscience and to God’s power to forgive, to restore, and to raise to new and abundant life.  Only then can we live as God would have us live, as we are designed to be, in relationship with God.
Another Collect (for the Third Sunday in Lent) from the Prayer Book describes our helplessness before God, and His power to lift us up:
      “Almighty God, who seest that we have no power of ourselves to help ourselves:  Keep us out outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault the soul; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.”                       



[1]   Biblical scholars often portray the first seven chapters and the beginning of chapter eight (up to verse 31) of Mark’s gospel account as the “Messianic Secret”, for Mark tells us, time and again, that Jesus did not want anyone to disclose His identity, or to tell about the things they had seen Him do.  But beginning at Mark 8:32, the secret ends, and Jesus openly discloses the path that lies ahead of Him.
[2]   The titles “Messiah” and “Christ” both mean the same thing.  They are derived from the Hebrew word and the Greek word for “anoint”, respectively.
[3]   However, as blessed as we are in this country to be able to practice our faith openly and without opposition, in places such as the Middle East where ISIS’ atrocities are being unleashed, many Christians have followed the Lord as martyrs for their faith.

Sunday, September 06, 2015

Pentecost 15, Year B

Proper 18 -- Isaiah 35: 4–7; Psalm 146; James 2: 1–17; Mark 7: 24–37

The following is a homily given by Fr. Gene Tucker given at St. John’s Church, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania, on Sunday, September 6, 2015.

“GOD’S POWER, OUR RESPONSE”
(Homily text:  Mark 7: 24–37)

The gospel text before us this morning, which relates Jesus’ interaction with the Gentile woman of the region of Tyre and Sidon, says a lot about God’s power, and about our response to that power through prayer.

So let’s begin our consideration of the interaction between Jesus and the Syrophoenician woman with a bit of humor:

It is Sunday morning, and as Father is scurrying around, getting ready for Mass, he notices Charlie, who is sitting in the back pew of the church.  Father gets the impression that Charlie isn’t a particularly devout member of the church, for he is not seen with any regularity on Sunday mornings.  But this morning, Charlie seems to be consumed with intense prayer.

Indeed, that is so, for if Father could hear Charlie’s prayer, he would hear this:  “O Lord, I really need to win the lottery this week.  Please, Lord, help me to win the lottery.  Amen.”

Mass begins, Mass is ended, Charlie makes his way out of the church and the week unfolds.  But Charlie does not win the lottery, not even one of the smaller prizes.

The next Sunday, Father notices that Charlie is, once again, sitting in the back pew of the church.  Father is delighted at Charlie’s apparently newfound sense of devotion. But Charlie’s prayer is the same as the Sunday before:  “Lord, I asked you last week to help me win the lottery.  But I didn’t win, not even one of the smaller prizes.  Please, please help me to win the lottery this week.  Amen.”

Mass begins, Mass is ended, Charlie makes his way out of the church and the week unfolds.  But, once again, Charlie does not win the lottery, not even one of the smaller prizes.

And then, on the third Sunday in a row, Charlie is back in his usual spot in the back pew of the Church.  Once again, he begins his prayer:  “O Lord, I asked you to help me win the lottery…”  But before Charlie could go any further, the Lord’s voice rings out from the church’s rafters:  “Charlie, work with me, buy a ticket, why don’t you?”

Something, simply asking God to fulfill our wishes, is enough to result in the granting of our request.

But in Charlie’s case, his earnest prayer wasn’t enough to allow God to answer that prayer.  Sometimes, praying for something, without taking the necessary steps to allow that prayer to be fulfilled, isn’t going to result in an answer.  We can understand this clearly by looking at the example of a person who has a strong desire to enter a profession where some advance training is required:  If the person doesn’t take steps to get the training, then that individual’s prayer to become whatever it is they would like to become won’t. most likely, be answered.

            This point brings us to the matter of the Syrophoenician woman.  Some background of her interaction with Jesus will be helpful for us to better understand what is happening in this passage:

            The first thing we might mention is that Jesus has now moved out of the Holy Land proper, and out of the area where the Jews live, into Gentile territory, into the coastal area of what is, today, southern Lebanon.  The city of Type still exists to this day.  Jesus seems to be “getting away from it all” with this move.  After all, His ministry and the consequent fame attached to His healings and to His teaching have caused large crowds to gather around him.  Oftentimes, there is no time even to pray and to be quiet. 

            It is there, in this Gentile territory, that the Syrophoenician woman comes to Him, asking Him to heal her daughter.  Most biblical scholars tell us that this woman was, most likely, a native of Syria, but living in this coastal area of Lebanon, and that she would be a Greek-speaking person.  Suffice it to say that she is not a Jew, but she knows (apparently) about Jesus and about His power to heal.

The second thing we ought to notice is Jesus’ response to her request.  On the surface, His response seems harsh and cold.  He says to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

Two cultural understandings will help us to understand this interchange more fully:  Jesus reference to “children” is an obvious reference to the children of Israel, that is, to the Jews.  And His reference to “dogs” is freighted with meaning, for Jews regarded dogs as being unclean, undesirable animals.  So Jesus’ mention of “dogs” is meant as a put-down, it seems, of Gentiles.  Non-Jews regarded dogs differently, for small dogs (and puppies) were apparently welcome house guests. 

In Jesus’ response there is a nuance that most translators of the passage either ignore or omit:  Jesus’ reference to “dogs” misses a key meaning of the word, for the word that Jesus uses is literally not “dogs”, but “little dogs”, i.e. puppies.  Sadly, this important difference is missing in most translations of the passage. 

The third thing we might notice is that Jesus says that the children ought to be fed “first”.  Feeding the children first implies that there will be a subsequent, second feeding.

Apparently, the unnamed woman is listening very carefully, for she picks up on Jesus mention of feeding the children first, and on Jesus’ reference to puppy dogs, for when the woman says to Jesus, “Sir, even the (puppy) dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs,” she is claiming some place in the benefits that God provides, some share in the succeeding blessings that will flow at some point in the future.

(At this point, it would be well for us to notice that Jesus’ move into Gentile territory, and His favorable treatment of this woman foretells the time when the Good News of God in Jesus Christ will move out from the Jews into the Gentile world.)

In essence, we might say that the woman is willing to “go to the mat” with Jesus.  She is willing to spar with Him.  She takes a very active role in bringing about the fulfillment of her request to the Lord.

Is it OK to spar with the Lord?  Is it alright to “go to the mat” with Him?

Apparently, it is.

In Holy Scripture, other such instances of back-and-forth with God exist.  Perhaps one of the most prominent is Abraham’s bargaining with God over the fate of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.  In Genesis 18: 16 – 33, Abraham asks God if He will destroy these cities if fifty righteous persons can be found in them.  God says that He won’t destroy them, if fifty can be found.  Abraham then works his way downward, asking God if He would destroy them if only forty righteous are found, and then further downward still, asking God if only thirty are found, then twenty, and finally, ten.

Whenever we make a request of God, we are guaranteed an answer.  God’s answer will always fall into one of three categories:  Yes,  No, or Not now.

Sometimes, God’s answer involves a test.  Personally, I believe that Jesus was testing the Syrophoenician woman in His apparent rebuff of her request.

Sometimes, when God says, “Not now” to our requests, a test is involved, a test of our willingness to remain faithful and to maintain our trust in God’s goodness and faithfulness.  An example from my own family will illustrate this point:

My father was raised in a Christian home.  His mother was a very devout woman.  But as he grew up, he went his own way and pursued his own dreams, and, as time went along, abandoned the Lord.  As the years went by, he descended more and more into self-absorption and into two different addictions.  He became more and more miserable, and more and more isolated from my mother, the family and the world.

My mother prayed for him, stuck with him, and supported him, year after year.  Eventually, once I had become an adult, she and I had a conversation about the trajectory of his life, and I told her that I thought that her support of him was aiding and abetting his addictive behavior.  I advised her to leave him.

But she refused, citing her marriage vows.

Turns out my mother was right, and I was wrong, and here is the account of how we came to know that truth:

In the wee hours of a Sunday morning in a hospital in Eugene, Oregon, my father had a massive heart attack.  He was 72 years old.  It turns out that this event was a tremendous blessing, for everyone in the family can see in retrospect that my mother’s insistence that he go to the hospital the previous afternoon put him in the very best place to have a heart attack, for if he’d been at home when it came along, he would have died.

And so it was that the doctors and nurses came running once his heart stopped beating.  They worked on him to get his heart restarted.  Over a three hour period, they had to do that over and over.  Finally, they succeeded.

In the morning, the doctor came around to see my father, and he said, “Jess, if you want to live, you’ll have to make some changes.”  No doubt that doctor’s words were God’s way of getting through to my dad.

Change my father did.  Both of the addictions that had claimed his attention and focus disappeared completely with no outside help.  Never again did he engage in either one of them.  Furthermore, he proclaimed a living faith in Christ, and even joined the church!

There is no doubt in any of my family’s minds that God was the grantor of this new birth in my father.  Mom had remained faithful for all those years, even when there seemed to be no hope and no prospect that her earnest prayers would ever be granted.  But granted they were.

God’s “Not now” involved a test for my mother.  But she didn’t give up praying, and she didn’t give up believing that God could straighten my father out.

So when God’s “Yes” came along, it was a glorious and abundant answer to my mother’s prayers.  She had not lost faith, she had met the test of faithfulness, and she had “gone to the mat” with God over my father’s wellbeing.

Sometimes, just asking God for something is enough.  Sometimes, it isn’t.  Sometimes, we have to do more than just ask.

May God grant us the ability to remain faithful, to present our petitions to Him, and to do whatever God may require to assist us in our prayers.

AMEN.