again

Even before the song began Carlton Pearson talks about the good old days. He speaks of hard times, and less fortunate ones. He speaks of the saints of old, and those that have persevered for the sake of His name. He reminds us of long ago “testimonial services” where the Holy Spirit led the congregation rather than a weekly bulletin and the agendas of men. He talks of those humbled servants who would receive a song from God through their prayers at the altar, or as he calls it “getting a song hot off the press.” Then Brother Carlton in his semi-deep, soulful, and spiritual voice sings the chorus of the old hymn- "Hold to His hand…….God’s unchanging hand… Hold to His hand…. God’s unchanging hand. You better pin your hopes on things eternal…. hold to God unchanging hand. "


While driving to what turned out to be one the most heart-wrenching scenes that I’ve witnessed with my eyes and ears - a funeral service yesterday afternoon I began to talk to God about this week’s journal “thing”, which He had given me the day before (Saturday morning). I didn’t want to write about another incident of death, and most certainly I didn’t want to attend another funeral. Why do I need to write about this, God? Why do I need to continue to witness, and feel the pain from this area? I cried out to Him “I’m so tired of death, pain, and all of the tears.” It seems that my life has become permanently altered by so many encounters with the deaths of others over the past few months. It started with my friend Jackie Holder last summer, then my aunt Barbara in February, uncle Ken in March - my friend Anna Maria in April– then a fellow I knew who was killed in a work related accident in which our company had connection to again in April. My friend, Nataline’s (who I only know in the spirit) mother, Thelma in May - Jessica’s grandfather, Archie Cima last weekend, and now this… “Enough already God, enough already” cries my heart….

I recently read “Life is never without death – never satisfied until complete – never fulfilled without reaching its destination - for death and life are in a sense one and the same”

Let me ask, if the “word” in your heart said you had only six months to live – what would you do? How would you react? What would become your priorities? Who would become the one you spend the most time with? As I learned all too well in the case of my aunt Barbara so often the case is when you’re told you’ve 3 months or even 6 weeks to live there is a real good chance that your body isn’t going to feel like doing a whole lot during that “shut down” period. I think everyone probably has said at one time or another “If I only had a year to live this is what I would do.” Unfortunately for most though, they’re simply unable to physically do the things that they would like to do during those dying days. I believe the ending of the movie in our own minds is filled with disappointments (to ourselves, not others) because of what we can’t get done before we depart. But what if….. What if we were told this is the time you have left – now go to it! Where would you start?

Not that anyone asked, but here’s what I would do. I would start each day by thanking God for another opportunity to serve Him – another opportunity to be a witness to the gospel. I wouldn’t worry about “stuff” that doesn’t matter in the big picture of things. I would love with all my heart the ones that I love. I wouldn’t struggle to acquire one more single worldly possession – for again it wouldn’t matter in the big picture of things. I would reach out to hug, to hold, to love, to show compassion, to listen, to talk, and to pray for all those that I could. I wouldn’t worry of money, or the lack of money. I would sing His praises all the daylong. I would die a thirsty and hungry soul still longing for Him - His word – His Spirit - His will – His pleasure – His presence – and for His person

Her eyes were richly colored dark brown – her head was decorated with black hair and a few beautiful curls. She had a creamy, caramel like complexion that made her an absolute thing of created beauty. I saw her for the first time when she was only four months old. At three months she had been severely shaken by her earthly father to the point where her brain stem was almost completely separated from the organ it fed. Almost immediately she was given no chance to live by everyone in the medical community. Yet, no one had any idea as to how many lives she would touch in such a short period of time. (For some of us live many decades, yet don’t have the impact for His kingdom that Amya Porter had while here on earth)

The wonderful group of friends I associate with on Sunday nights met at the Children’s Hospital to visit and pray with Amya and her family that night. I’ll never forget the stirring of the Holy Spirit in my heart for this family as I found out the details of what had taken place. Wendy, the mom had been severely beaten by her baby’s father and had to be taken to the emergency room – she had no choice but to leave Amya and her two other children with his mother. He went into his mom’s home and took the baby, and then the abuse and cruelty to her truly began. Sadly, I’ll never forget the frustration I felt from learning on that same night our state agencies were trying to take Wendy’s other children away from her through legal means even while she was at the hospital praying over the life of her precious baby girl.

I’ll also never forget the overwhelming response we saw when the call came to help buy diapers and wipes for Amya after she left the hospital, the couple of times we were fortunate to see her at church with her great- grandparents Larry and Joan, or the heart-felt joy of hearing reports of her development - even if at times it was simply that she had “cooed” the night before. Then her development stopped almost immediately, and she returned to the hospital for the last time a few weeks ago. More progressive damage throughout her body, more fluid seeping into her skull, more holes in her tiny little brain, less hope for recovery, less faith in a miracle, less belief that there was going to be a happy ending to this story. “Don’t bring her back, because there isn’t anything that can be done for her” – was the word from the hospital staff.

Yesterday she was seven months old when she was laid in the ground. She was an absolute vision of God’s beauty. She has touched so many hearts in such a short period of time. She has stirred so many to pray, and to cry out to God that probably may have never done so during this same period of time. After all had been said and done there had been a miracle delivered – and there was a happy ending to the story, which will continue to play out for generations to come in the Porter family. For she lives even today in the hearts of all that came to know her! If only it could be said of our own lives - that we had this type of impact while we were here….

Let me ask you, how long have you been given to live? A single day? Some forty years? Until this November? None of us know! What’s ultimately important isn’t how long - yet how much will we accomplish for Him. How many lives will we touch? How many lost souls can we help lead to the cross? How many will we make smile with a real joy in their hearts? How many lives will be altered by their encounter from seeing the Hope that lives within us?

Then God said unto me, “For death has no grip on you! You have been delivered from your past, from your sins, and from your self. Pin your hopes on things eternal, and live each day as if it is your last, and if I give you a tomorrow, then again.” Holding to His hand…. Doug