It was morning, and I had my usual schedule to keep, but felt, for no conscious reason, that I should stop by the home of my wife’s parents. On my arrival my mother-in-law was standing at the door. The look on her face told me how comforted she was that I was there. The reason was soon clear. My father-in-law sat in a chair totally silent. He had been adamant that she not use the telephone to call anyone, but he could not speak. He could respond to her with firm gestures. She was frightened, but felt obedient to his gestures of refusal for help. I sensed he had suffered a stroke. I sat for a few moments facing him intently, and asked in firm voice, Can you talk to me? He answered: Yes. His wife almost jumped up: Those are the first words from him since last night. Blood flow had made its way to the stricken brain area. His speech was returning. I insisted on medical treatment, and he was given no alternative but to acquiesce. Although he lived, even got about fairly well for the next two years, it was the clear beginning of the end. He celebrated his eightieth birthday just before he died. My wife and I took over the care of mother.
Dad had experienced a hard life, but no worse than that of masses of persons in America. He was never robust, wrestled with diet, was of slight build, and trim. His father was a stern fellow of the West – drove stage in Nevada, served for a short time as a sheriff, owned a horse ranch – so fulfilling the classic image of the western frontiersman. Dad could not fit in those shoes. As a young man he married, but the marriage failed. He contemplated suicide, but decided to try Christ. He got a job as a clerk in a haberdashery store, and did rather well. He was appointed buyer. He was so fearful of the added responsibility that he fell ill, was terminated from his job, and, with his new wife, the mother of my wife, went to the mountains of California seeking recovery. His depressions and gloom remained, but his health improved. Children were born, but there was never enough money. Pennies counted. He returned to the bay area of California, got a job in the men’s section of a department store, at low pay, and finished out his occupational life doing something he disliked. He found it difficult to relate to his sons, who were in rebellion against his limited approach to life in the name of Christian faith. He felt the world was about to end. The government was in violation of so much that is good. Life was heavy. There was little fun, variety, or success for him. Down deep he felt himself a failure. He really wasn’t.
Dad was a man of God. He was committed to prayer, church and Scripture. If so, why was his life so murky, sometimes so sad? Why? His context for life was formed in a pattern that makes many persons negative and sad. I have seen and talked with many of them. They miss the actualization that earth and heaven have bonds, even in the natural ups and downs of life. We were not meant to be bifurcated, waiting for heaven and bliss. Joyful faith can be applied now, here, where I am and with the persons around me. But no matter how Dad expressed it, he chose divine faith that got him through. What would have happened to this dear man, depressive in nature, if he had missed Christian faith? It is a part of ministry to help ourselves and others through human handicaps. The person who puts life in God’s hands does not ultimately fail. From time to time in the scriptural narrative, we meet up with persons who face problems, and appear to be in negative straits in fact and in spirit. Jesus touched them, lifted them, encouraged them, and reminded them of divine resources, available even in seemingly impossible natural circumstances. A storm raging, Jesus said to disciples: Take courage. I pray that persons will gain spiritual courage – a practical human factor accented by Jesus. *Mark W. Lee, Sr. — 2016, 2020