Help, I need somebody's help

Last week I had a dream which left me thinking about death - not in a morbid way, more about our relationship with those who have died. I wrote to my friend Elizabeth to ask what she thought. Part of her reply was: "And as for the Community of Saints; well....I suppose it is a notion to which I have increasingly warmed, in that it involves our sharing across time and space with those striving for holiness and the life of the spirit, past, present and future....  It provides a sense of solidarity of prayer, purpose and companionship with those who are preparing the way by going before us on the journey of life and death."

© Jane Wenham 2012

I must say I don't see the logic in asking living saints to pray for us and our concerns, and not those who are no longer with us but "with the Lord". That's not the same as being an intermediary between us and God, of whom there's only one (1 Timothy 2.5). But sometimes, it's true, it helps when others support us in prayer; sometimes we run out of words, or energy, or the will to keep on praying. We need others to stand alongside us. That, I guess, is one reason why Jesus invented the Church, which in one old prayer is described as "the Church militant here in earth" as well as triumphant in heaven. I wonder whether some of us limit our vision in a way the Bible doesn't; whether we're just too earthbound. Is the boundary between here and hereafter as impenetrable as all that? And that's what the writer to the Hebrews implies when he talks about us being "surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses", isn't it?


When I was writing about dying and heaven for I Choose Everything, I searched high and low for a story I'd heard which I thought came from Henri Nouwen, the Dutch priest and writer. It was to do with the process of dying. I never found it. Until recently I heard it referred to again - and tracked it down. It's a conversation between twins in the womb. Here it is:

The sister said to the brother, "I believe there is life after birth." 

Her brother protested vehemently, "No, no, this is all there is. This is a dark and cozy place, and we have nothing else to do but to cling to the cord that feeds us." 

The little girl insisted, "There must be something more than this dark place. There must be something else, a place with light where there is freedom to move." Still, she could not convince her twin brother.

After some silence, the sister said hesitantly, "I have something else to say, and I'm afraid you won't believe that, either, but I think there is a mother." 

Her brother became furious. "A mother!" he shouted. "What are you talking about? I have never seen a mother, and neither have you. Who put that idea in your head? As I told you, this place is all we have. Why do you always want more? This is not such a bad place, after all. We have all we need, so let's be content."

The sister was quite overwhelmed by her brother's response and for a while didn't dare say anything more. But she couldn't let go of her thoughts, and since she had only her twin brother to speak to, she finally said, "Don't you feel these squeezes every once in a while? They're quite unpleasant and sometimes even painful." 

"Yes," he answered. "What's special about that?" 

"Well," the sister said, "I think that these squeezes are there to get us ready for another place, much more beautiful than this, where we will see our mother face-to-face. Don't you think that's exciting?"

The brother didn't answer. He was fed up with the foolish talk of his sister and felt that the best thing would be simply to ignore her and hope that she would leave him alone.

Henri Nouwen, Our Greatest Gift: A Meditation on Dying and Caring (Harper: SanFrancisco, 1994), pp. 19-20.

There's a lot I love about the analogy: the simple parallel between being born and dying, the recognition of the painfulness of dying, the womb-like limitation of our perspective, and the excitement of "another place, much more beautiful than this, where we will see our mother (the one who's carried us and cared for us) face-to-face".

Happy holiday

I trust you're having a good bank holiday, assuming you're in the UK. It's nice, isn't it, not getting the usual delivery of junk mail? Jane and I had a delightfully relaxed timetable getting up this morning, just enjoying being in each other's company and then having a continental breakfast. A friend of mine wrote to me yesterday about her summer break: "I have had a lovely summer being with friends. Relationships are so important. I realise now that they are one of God’s rich gifts to us."


I agree, and so, I think, are days off. The story of creation doesn't end on Day 6 with the creation of humans, but on Day 7 - with the creation of time off, or God's down time. It's almost as if this is what the preceding creation has been for: his leisurely enjoyment of "everything he had made". I've come across two contemporary thinkers this month who have been saying something on the same sort of lines. 


One was in the blog of fellow student of mine, when I was in Oxford, Graham Tomlin, who's now Dean of St Mellitus' College in London. It's a post called Leisure: what we're here for. He says: "Leisure in a sense, therefore, is what we are here for. It is not just 'time off' however. Leisure gives the opportunity for 'contemplation', a more passive and receptive mode of being than 'thinking'. It gives an opportunity for wonder at the nature of things, a realisation again of the miracle that there is anything here at all, and that what is here, despite riots, economic crises and tyrants struggling to hold onto power, is good. It also gives opportunity for 'celebration': the reminder and enjoyment of life as something not earned by our work and productivity, but freely given. So, if eating too much isn't the point, long, leisurely, relaxed meals with friends or family is." 


The other was in Friday Night Theology and was by Marijke Hoek and is simply entitled Sabbath. Perhaps because she's Dutch she's looking forward to cycling of this weekend, but is a bit heated about the invention of combined bus and cycle lanes! She writes about the value system (narrative) that most of us live by: "The benefits to the individual, family, employers and the environment are overshadowed by the dominant narrative; the economy. . . .

In the Old Testament the Sabbath instructions are placed in the context that God is the Creator and that He released us from a former slavery. Quite important stipulations - for observing the Sabbath is not only a celebration of our relationship with Him and others, it is also an act of obedience and trust. He is the one who is still creating and liberating.

Prior to Jesus' interpretation of the Sabbath, He gives an invitation to the weary and burdened: "Come to me … and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls" (Matthew 11:28-30). Ultimately, shalom is found in a person.

So, as you light the BBQ, meet friends, read a book, or even, as you are stuck in traffic, may there be balm for your soul and a restoring of the equilibrium."

And if you, like me, when today is over will be wondering what on earth use you are, whether you're feeling your age or your incapacity or illness, take comfort from the fact that leisure is what we're here for. Enjoying Sabbath is not a reason for guilt. In fact, not doing so is a better reason for feeling guilty. God doesn't value you for what you do; he values your company. He's interested in you - incredible as it may seem. His eye is on the sparrow.... Which is one reason you can be sure he loves you - just being you.

A late and welcome gift

Here we tend to leave birthday cards up for a fortnight from the day. So mine were still up on Wednesday evening when Pete and Jane called in with a present for me. It was a cd of worship music from the conference they'd been to in the spring, Word Alive. It includes some golden oldies like And can it be, some new and nearly new songs, and ends with the song variously known as It is well with my soul or When peace like a river. 

The last (and to my memory first) time I heard it was in April this year at Christ Church, Exmouth, when it was introduced by their worship leader, Katie Ranft, telling some of how it came to be written. It's a story of faith despite all the odds. Pete didn't know the story; so I looked it up on the internet, and found this (www.biblestudycharts.com/A_Daily_Hymn.html).

'This hymn was written by a Chicago lawyer, Horatio G Spafford. You might think to write a worship song titled, 'It is well with my soul', you would indeed have to be a rich, successful Chicago lawyer. But the words,"When sorrows like sea billows roll ... It is well with my soul”, were not written during the happiest period of Spafford's life. On the contrary, they came from a man who had suffered almost unimaginable personal tragedy.

'Horatio Spafford and his wife, Anna, were pretty well-known in 1860’s Chicago. And this was not just because of Horatio's legal career and business endeavours. The Spaffords were also prominent supporters and close  friends of D.L. Moody, the famous preacher. In 1870, however, things started to go wrong. The Spaffords' only son was killed by scarlet fever at the age of four. A year later, it was fire rather than fever that struck. Horatio had invested heavily in real estate on the shores of Lake Michigan. In 1871, every one of these holdings was wiped out by the great Chicago Fire.

'Aware of the toll that these disasters had taken on the family, Horatio decided to take his wife and four daughters on a holiday to England. And, not only did they need the rest -- DL Moody needed the help. He was travelling around Britain on one of his great evangelistic campaigns. Horatio and Anna planned to join Moody in late 1873. And so, the Spaffords travelled to New York in November, from where they were to catch the French steamer 'Ville de Havre' across the Atlantic. Yet just before they set sail, a last-minute business development forced Horatio to delay. Not wanting to ruin the family holiday, Spafford persuaded his family to go as planned. He would follow on later. With this decided, Anna and her four daughters sailed East to Europe while Spafford returned West to Chicago. Just nine days later, Spafford received a telegram from his wife in Wales. It read: "Saved alone."

Storm at Sea by Wilem van de Welde

'On November 2nd 1873, the 'Ville de Havre' had collided with 'The Lochearn', an English vessel. It sank in only 12 minutes, claiming the lives of 226 people. Anna Spafford had stood bravely on the deck, with her daughters Annie, Maggie, Bessie and Tanetta clinging desperately to her. Her last memory had been of her baby being torn violently from her arms by the force of the waters. Anna was only saved from the fate of her daughters by a plank which floated beneath her unconscious body and propped her up. When the survivors of the wreck had been rescued, Mrs. Spafford's first reaction was one of complete despair. Then she heard a voice speak to her, "You were spared for a purpose." And she immediately recalled the words of a friend, "It's easy to be grateful and good when you have so much, but take care that you are not a fair-weather friend to God."

'Upon hearing the terrible news, Horatio Spafford boarded the next ship out of New York to join his bereaved wife. Bertha Spafford (the fifth daughter of Horatio and Anna born later) explained that during her father's voyage, the captain of the ship had called him to the bridge. "A careful reckoning has been made", he said, "and I believe we are now passing the place where the de Havre was wrecked. The water is three miles deep." Horatio then returned to his cabin and penned the lyrics of his great hymn.

'The words which Spafford wrote that day come from 2 Kings 4:26. They echo the response of the Shunammite  woman to the sudden death of her only child. Though we are told "her soul is vexed within her", she still maintains that 'It is well." And Spafford's song reveals a man whose trust in the Lord is as unwavering as hers was.

'It would be very difficult for any of us to predict how we would react under circumstances similar to those experienced by the Spaffords. But we do know that the God who sustained them would also be with us. No matter what circumstances overtake us may we be able to say with Horatio Spafford...

Mahalia Jackson

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

It is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul!

It is well ... with my soul!

It is well, it is well, with my soul.'




I believe the Spaffords ended as missionaries in Jerusalem. If you'd like to listen to it, I recommend this version by the great singer, Mahalia Jackson: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wziwGZq06PE. There's also a modern version of it by the group Jars of Clay, as well as a song based on it by singer-songwriter, Amy Grant, both of which I quite like.

A busy week

I'm very lucky. I can't say I have a boring life. It's frustrating sometimes - when I think about it! And uncomfortable when I fall over - wretchedly! But for example this last week we've had my in laws with us, who are a pleasure to be with. In fact we managed an outing to the Oxford Botanic Gardens, where I have to confess I was more excited by the filming of ITV's Lewis than the cactus greenhouse. 


And then I had a deadline for an article for Friday Night Theology, which reflects on a matter in the news that week. I like working to deadlines, and the theme I chose was the clamour for punitive sentences for folk involved in the "riots": Restorative Justice, in case you'd like to read it! But it was good turning my mind to something entirely different.


On the same subject, I came across this today in TearFund's monthly Reflections series. It's good to turn the spotlight on other people's troubles. I've highlighted a couple of paragraphs which I thought have wider implications about caring and being cared for. We're meant for community:

BlackBerrys and Somalia

17 August 2011

It’s difficult to make sense of a world where people using £300 BlackBerrys loot shops for £100 trainers they don’t really need, while emaciated families in Somalia flee trouble spots and drought in a bitter bid for survival. 

But scratch the surface and there is a connection: the deep human need for support networks and – above all else – God’s redemptive love.

A common lament from young rioters was that nobody respected or listened to them, that the world is greedy anyway, so why couldn’t they join in? Others felt they had no future, so there was little to lose.

Sadly, gang culture can offer a sense of belonging for those who lack strong parental figures or role models.

But whatever the justifications of this young (and sometimes older) minority, it wasn’t long before the full force of the state was battering down the doors of those caught with their hoods down.

The truth is that whatever difficulties or injustice we face, we all need boundaries. And these are best imparted in the context of family and community.

Ogongora village in Uganda where community is strong but children lack the poverty safety nets of richer countries.

Richard discovered this in Uganda. He was caught in a downward spiral of poverty that led to drinking and violence – and that led to more poverty. His marriage was on the rocks. Some of his friends were dying because of their self-destructive behaviour.

The turning point for him was when he committed his life to Jesus and joined his local church. Now he has a community that holds him accountable and offers him love and support.

The Bible says when we submit to God’s discipline, we will reap a harvest of righteousness (Hebrews 12:11). In Richard’s case, he found this harvest included his physical, as well spiritual needs.

As for the situation in Somalia, we see the suffering unleashed when armed warfare becomes the norm among militias (many of whom are conscripted children).

But we can also witness God’s love right at the edge of life as physically frail family or community members protect even weaker ones in the desperate search for food and water. 

Then there’s the gentle compassion shown by doctors, nurses and relief staff in the face of overwhelming need.

By following God’s command to ‘love your neighbour as yourself’; they also fulfil the twin injunction to ‘love the Lord your God with all your soul and with all your mind’ (Matthew 22:37-39).

And that’s surely our best hope as we seek to make a difference in East Africa and problems closer to home.

Antidote to anxiety

Soberly speaking, I suppose that nine years ago I didn't expect to have seen yesterday - yet another birthday. When I was diagnosed with "a motor neurone disorder", I foresaw a life of a couple of years ahead of me. After all the average life expectancy from diagnosis with MND is 14 months. However, here I still am, fortunate in having the extremely rare and slow variant and grateful for every new day and every year to enjoy this remarkable world and the life God's given me. It's not always comfortable; it's not, I suppose, what I'd have chosen. I do feel bereaved; I miss my independence; I don't like continually calling on others for help. I often feel frustrated, and, yes, I fall into self-pity. And yet...

Dependence, I'm learning, is a good state. We weren't meant to be alone. We're meant to "bear one another's burdens" - which is an easy principle to subscribe to in good times, reduced to something like lending a sympathetic ear (on occasions, just what's needed of course). The rubber really hits the road, however, when you're confronted with acute need, such as a child born disabled, a parent having a stroke, a wife contracting Parkinsons or MD, or a husband diagnosed with MND or Alzheimers, a friend losing a loved one, or a neighbour losing their job, or an asylum seeker asking for help. And although Jesus said, "It's more blessed to give than to receive," there's a sense in which it's also blessed to give someone else the opportunity to give, to be the reason for another's being blessed - if you see what I mean! I truly believe that to say being dependent is undignified is nothing but a lie. It's the opposite. It's the essence of being human. Even the non-Christian poet, Epimenides (c 600BC), knew that, "In him we live and move and have our being" (Acts 17.28).

That's why, in the end, when "all other helpers fail", St Peter urged his readers, "Cast all your cares upon him, for he cares about you" (1 Peter 5.7). It's a great immutable, incomprehensible truth that our Father God ("Papa" as my friend Nicky Temple calls him; "Abba" as Jesus calls him) cares not just about, but for us. And he loves giving us what we need.

Kevin Mayhew

I had a lot of kind messages and cards yesterday - and some nice presents too. One was an impromptu gift. Lynn, a friend from Cambridge days, popped in for tea after a break in the Cotswolds. On learning that it was my birthday she wracked her brain for the nicest thing she had in her car, and came up with a CD of quiet music by Margaret Rizza called Fountain of Life. At the moment my favourite track is based on her setting of words from Psalm 131. The only YouTube version I can find is a very short version: "O Lord, my heart is not proud". If you do that sort of thing (and if you like something more reflective than "There is a day"!), I suggest you download the full version from iTunes. These are the words:

© Ozpics 2011

O Lord, my heart is not proud,
nor haughty my eyes.
I have not gone after things too great,
nor marvels beyond me.
Truly I have set my soul
in silence and peace;
at rest, as a child in its mother's arms,
so is my soul.

I guess that's the place to end up with our self-pity, frustration, confusion and grief.

One day...!

For a change, here's one of the most positive and encouraging songs I know. I really recommend the YouTube video that goes with it, especially for days when the horizon looks dark and endless. "There is a day" on YouTube. It's by the curiously named band, Phatfish, with their vocalist, Lou Fellingham, who has the most intense voice. It's not the most elegant of poetry, but the meaning is most definitely worth taking on board! I hope you like it.

There is a day

That all creation's waiting for,

A day of freedom and liberation for the earth.

And on that day

The Lord will come to meet His bride,

And when we see Him

In an instant we'll be changed.

The trumpet sounds

And the dead will then be raised

By His power,

Never to perish again.

Once only flesh,

Now clothed with immortality,

Death has now been

Swallowed up in victory.

We will meet Him in the air

And then we will be like Him,

For we will see Him, as He is.

Oh yeah!

Then all hurt and pain will cease,

And we'll be with Him forever

And in His glory we will live.

Oh yeah! Oh yeah!

So lift your eyes

To the things as yet unseen,

That will remain now

For all eternity.

Though trouble's hard,

It's only momentary,

And it's achieving

Our future glory.

Nathan Fellingham

Feel free to be real

"We've already seen the role of silence in prayer... But we still want to find words as well, because relationship works two ways... So for us, when our words strain and crack, we will find psalms to give expression to our inner thoughts" (I Choose Everything, chapter 10 'Praying truthfully'). I'm somewhat astonished and ashamed at my presumption in writing those words for publication, because, although I'm sure it's true, to be honest, the Psalms are by no means my prayer-book.

Which is one reason why I went to the seminar at New Wine given by David Rowe, the warden of Lee Abbey, on 'Praying the Psalms'. Again I was challenged and helped. (I don't know why I like being made uncomfortable by talks - maybe it's like the stimulation of a cold shower!) He quoted the American theologian, Walter Brueggemann, who categorises the psalms as psalms of orientation, disorientation, and new orientation. I've not yet got hold of his lectures, but this is the blurb: "Walter Brueggemann contends that the Psalms offer us words during the long seasons of our lives. They offer us words when our worlds are stable and ordered and well. They offer us words when our worlds are awful, filled with hopelessness and fear. They offer us words when our worlds have been miraculously transformed and all has become new. Each lecture explores a different season we live through and the language the Psalmists spoke to God when they were in that season also. Sometimes abrasive, sometimes euphoric, there is always a word offered that we may speak to God.

"Laments are of particular interest to Brueggemann. He comments how most laments have never been selected to be included in the lectionary. There are a couple which occur every three years, but an individual could attend church their whole life and never hear the majority of them. Brueggemann contends lament is important in our lives and in our conversations with the Almighty. He believes our speech before the throne doesn’t have to be nice, just honest. These prayers act as hope: things do not have to stay the way they are. God can make newness for us."

You can watch short clips on YouTube. How do we pray when we just feel desperate and miserable? What do we say when we've no praise in our hearts and actually have nothing nice to say to our heavenly Father? Do we just maintain a rude surly silence? Brueggemann talks about the "lament" Psalms . "Our speech before the throne doesn't have to be nice, just honest" - what a relief! How do we pray about the "riots"? How can the young rioters pray about their grievances? Brueggemann on Psalms of vengeance. Well, we and they are allowed to express our anger to God - which is why we should use all the Psalms in our worship. Otherwise we and they have two options: to act on our anger, or to deny it. Much better to bring it to the Divine Therapist and leave it to him. We can't shock him. He loves us too much.

As the Psalms repeat like a refrain, "His steadfast love endures for ever." Reality when we pray is OK. In fact it's essential. "These prayers act as hope: things do not have to stay the way they are. God can make newness for us." It's good news for the disabled, the ill, the housebound, who are tempted to self-pity, and for the grieving. But I guess it's as good for all God's family. The thing about being honest is you don't have to remember your previous lies!

Rethinking prayer

One of the best talks I heard at New Wine was given by Michelle Tepper from Oxford. Its title was "Rethinking prayer - how to live in a constant conversation". I have to say it wasn't a typical "How to" seminar, like 4 easy steps to success. It was actually exploring 1 Thessalonians 5 from verse 12, which includes the severe advice to "pray without ceasing". I went because even with all my enforced inactivity I'm a pretty hopeless pray-er. One of Michelle's main points was that prayer is conversation, not shopping list, and that implies intentional listening, not just emptying your mind, not conducting an internal monologue, but listening to the Word, listening within the community and listening to the Holy Spirit. She also pointed out how much God treasures our company. He really likes us conversing with him. That changes prayer from being a duty to being an invitation. I found so much to explore in the talk that I've put it on my iPod.

I also have on my iPod an app which my Scottish friend, Mary Kennedy (who's off to the World Youth Day in Madrid on Saturday), recommended. It's probably my favourite, even better than Shrek Karting! It's called Three Minute Retreat (costing just 99p from the Loyola Press:  http://itunes.apple.com/us/app/3-minute-retreat/id323368405?mt=8). It's not a substitute for intercession, but to quieten my spirit and remind me of the presence of God it's wonderful. I imagine for someone in a high-pressured job and for people who just have little space in their lives it's a God-send.

It takes you through steps of relaxing in God's presence, reading a verse or two of the Bible, briefly meditating on it and then applying it, and finally providing a short prayer (or use your own words). Oh yes, and there's quiet music (optional) and stunning photography. It's a wonderful three minutes!

Sometimes my body and mind are too weary to summon up the energy to put things into words or to concentrate on reading the Bible, but this little app just takes me where I want to be, aware of the presence of God.

Perspective

One of the temptations when you're in pain is to focus on it. Well, to be honest, it's a natural reaction. Our dog Jess, when she gets a stone or a thorn lodged in her foot, lies there licking it like mad. What's interesting about humans is that not only do we do that, but when things are all roses in the garden we're also tempted to become self-absorbed.

A good feature of New Wine this year were the opportunities to change our perspectives. Bishop Zac was particularly effective in achieving this. He identified four idols in 1st World faith: religion, security, sacralization (making sacred) of youth, and "me". He wasn't censorious about it; he was just describing ourselves from a 3rd World perspective. It certainly made me sit up! Then there was Baroness Cox talking about places like Burma and North Korea, Major General Porter talking about faith in the armed forces, Vincent Munyosi on church-planting in Uganda. One began to see the church in a world-wide perspective.

I love George Herbert's poetry. "The Elixir" from which there are quotations at the top of this blog is perhaps his best-known poem as it is often sung as a hymn (worship song). It is about practising the presence of God, seeing God in all things, even the most menial tasks and, I'd add, the most painful and restricted situations. The person who looks at a window ("looks on glass", which wasn't as clear as today), he says, has a choice, either to look at its surface ("on it may stay his eye") or to look through it and see the sky, or heaven ("the heaven espy"). We can choose to lick our wounds in our own confined safe world or to take the risk of looking up and seeing God's beauty. It's not that God isn't with us. He is. It's more an invitation to raise our eyes and recognise him there - and that means looking through the material to the real. Easier said than done, I know, and I guess Herbert did too as he prayed for a fresh pouring out of the Spirit in "Whitsunday":
Lord, though we change, thou art the same;
The same sweet God of love and light:
Restore this day, for thy great name,
Unto his ancient and miraculous right. 
Good call!

The bishop and the pee

A couple of weeks ago, I fell over backwards - such is a hazard of Motor Neurone Disease. The initial shock was bad enough, I thought, but the after-effects (bruising, soreness and aches and pains) have been harder to shake off. The downer about it was that we were due to go to New Wine last week. That has been a high point in my spiritual year since I became ill and could no longer go camping. Jane, my wife, drives me to the cottage in Barton St David in Somerset and wheels me round the Bath and West Showground, which is where New Wine takes place.

Thanks to praying friends, in the event, last Monday, we made it to Shepton Mallet and have had a wonderful, if uncomfortable, time. I thought I'd reflect on some nuggets which have helped me. So I'll start with the Ugandan bishop. Bishop Zac Naringiye was wonderfully down to earth and passionate. He spent last Lent, I think, in a Kampala slum, which even for him was an severe education, and he told us about a young American woman who did the same. He told us her experience of drinking bottled water before she went to bed. She woke up in the night wanting to go to the loo. (He was graphic in his analysis of slum sanitation, and the failure to remedy it.) However, the doors were shut, the loo was outside - and she couldn't get there. I won't tell the whole story, partly because I was in fits of uncontrollable laughter - Bishop Zac is a class stand-up comedian - and partly because, if you want, you could get the whole talk (NEWB07411, from www.essentialchristian.com). The immediate point he was making was that she prayed desperately about "pee", and actually that was entirely appropriate because God is concerned about all aspects of our lives. And I thought, "Actually, I have prayed about just such earthy matters too." And I was relieved to have received a bishop's blessing for having done so.

The point for this blog, I think, is that there's nowhere that God is absent. We'll find him in the most improbable situations - confined to our homes or to a nursing home or hospice, even on our hospital beds or in our wheelchairs. I'm hoping that together we'll discover the truth of that amazing poem, Psalm 139:

Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence?   If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.

If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;    Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.

If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me.    Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.