Making assumptions

There is a story told of a little boy and his father who were travelling together on a train.  As they travelled, the boy consistently whined and cried.  It was an overnight train, and even though the boy and his father retired to the sleeping berth on the train, his sobbing could still be heard by other passengers. 
  

One of them, having heard the boy's crying for many hours, became impatient and irritated.  In anger and disgust he threw back the curtain to where the father and his son were settling down for the night. Harshly, he cried out, "Mister, if you can't control this boy and make him stop crying, you need to let his mother handle him!"  The father replied softly, "Sir, his mother has just passed away.  We are taking her home to be buried."

How easy it is to stand in judgement on others and make assumptions about them without knowing the full picture.  We may have little or no idea what is going on in another person's life which may be leading to apparently irrational or unreasonable behaviour.  Singer songwriter Philippa Hanna summed it up well in her song, "Getting On With Life."

I know from personal experience that times of stress or difficulty can lead to me being less patient or attentive than I ought to be.  It's not an excuse, but it may be a reason.  As I've thought more about this, I've tried to put it into action: when the checkout operator is grumpy, when the car driver cuts me up or appears not to be concentrating, or when someone I know if very offhand with me.  I try to remember to pray for God's blessing upon them, whatever they are going through.

Ultimately, it's about being people of grace.

Ghost Boy

I have just finished reading a most remarkable autobiographical book, ‘Ghost Boy’, by Martin Pistorius.   

He grew up an ordinary, healthy boy in a loving family environment.  At the age of 12 his body started to shut down.  He stopped eating, his muscles weakened and eventually he stopped moving, and even thinking, altogether.  His parents were told that their son was “a vegetable”, that he had lost all intelligence, and that they should simply wait for him to die. 

Time passed by until, at the age of 16, he slowly began to regain consciousness.  However, he was still completely paralysed apart from his eyes, and there seemed no way to communicate the fact that he was conscious.  The experience caused tremendous stress and heartache for his family, with his mother reaching such a state that she told him at one point, “I hope you die”, not realising that her son could hear every word she spoke.

It is impossible to imagine what the experience must have been for Martin Pistorius (though he gives some graphic insight in his book).  For years he was desperate to let people know that inside his paralysed body his mind was alert and active.  What’s more, he was at times abused by those who were supposed to be looking after him.  No-one understood his desperate plight, apart from one of his caregivers, a lady called Virna.  She noticed that his eyes seemed to respond to her words.  Through her persistence, Martin was send for some tests which revealed that he was conscious and aware of his surroundings.

This led to his parents giving him a speech computer, and he began slowly regaining some upper body functions. In 2008 he met his wife Joanna, and in 2009 they married. He has regained some control over his head and arms but still needs his speech computer to communicate with others.  He now lives in the UK with his wife and works as a web designer.

Martin Pistorius describes with vivid detail the feelings of desolation and loneliness during the long years of being unable to communicate.  At times he felt that to die would be a release from his torturous life.  I have been really challenged and inspired by the book, but perhaps by one short section in particular.  One might feel that Martin Pistorius had every right to cry out to God, ‘why have you forsaken me?’ Yet he writes:

“The one person I talked to was God … He was real to me, a presence inside and around that calmed and reassured me … I spoke to God as I tried to make sense of what had happened to me and asked him to protect me from harm.  God and I didn’t talk about the big things in life – we didn’t engage in philosophical debates or argue about religion – but I talked to him endlessly because I knew we shared something important.  I didn’t have proof that he existed but I believed in him anyway because I knew he was real.  God did the same for me.  Unlike people, he didn’t need proof that I existed – he knew I did.”

Remarkable.

So am I

One of the realities of being a Methodist Minister is that on occasions I have to conduct funeral services of church members.  It is never an easy thing to do, especially as over time one can build up close relationships and friendships with members of the church family.  On Wednesday of this week I took a service of thanksgiving for a lady called Pearl, who had for many years been a really important figure in the life of one of my churches (now that she is no longer around, we are fully realising how much she actually did do in the life of the church!)

The service was one in which we could express our natural sadness at the passing of a friend, but it was also a service of celebration and thanksgiving, as we remembered Pearl's life and also gave thanks for her deep Christian faith.

During the service I told of an occasion some months ago when I was preaching at the church.  I had told the congregation about a close friend of ours, named Andrew, who we knew many years ago when we lived in Norwich.  Andrew had come to faith through a Billy Graham rally at Carrow Road, Norwich (someone had handed him a ticket in the street).  Andrew became a much-loved member of our church, and joined one of the home fellowship groups.  At one home group meeting the discussion had centred on the promise we have of eternal life through faith in Christ.  Jesus has conquered death, and so all who trust in him know that death is not the end, but merely the doorway into a new life in the presence of God, a life free from tears, sadness, pain and death. Andrew responded to the discussion by saying that he wasn't afraid of death, and that if he happened to die the following day he was sure of his eternal destiny.  The following day, as Andrew drove to work, he was involved in a car accident and killed outright.

When I had originally told that story in the church service a few months ago, I went on to say that if something happened to me the next day and I died, I was ready.  After the service Pearl came up to me and quietly said, "So am I!"  Even though Pearl was given a terminal cancer diagnosis a while ago, her faith held very strong.  She experienced the presence and peace of God even in recent tough times; she knew where her eternal destiny lay.

How wonderful it is to have that assurance.  How amazing it is to place our lives into God's hands and to know that nothing can separate us from his love in Christ Jesus.  Though we will greatly miss our friend, we rejoice that she is in the loving care of the One she served so faithfully.

This week saw also the 50th anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King.  He had been threatened many times for his stance against discrimination and injustice.  But a recording of the final part of a message given by him on the night before he died shows that he, too, had complete confidence in God that his eternal future was secure (to watch click here).


In Christ alone my hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song;
This Cornerstone, this solid Ground,
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My Comforter, my All in All,
Here in the love of Christ I stand.