Something Else (Intercession, part 2)

A couple days after posting my last entry (Intercession), I was watching the video of U2 playing "40". I noticed that for this song Adam Clayton and The Edge had switched positions on stage and also switched instruments. Adam played lead guitar and Edge played bass. I found this intriguing and I just couldn't "let it go". As I wondered about this, I vaguely remembered reading something about it. I checked with Wiki and it says that this is their routine.

"During live performances (of "40"), Adam Clayton and The Edge would swap instruments so that Adam played guitar and Edge played bass, and the band members would progressively leave stage, with Bono the first to depart, then Clayton, then Edge, and finally, Larry Mullen, Jr. The crowd would often continue to chant the refrain of "How long...to sing this song?" even after the band had left the stage." -Wikipedia

As I thought about this and reflected on "Intercession", I heard the voice again (or maybe I should say I saw a vision). What I was seeing on video was in some ways similar to what I had witnessed in my friends as they reached out of their struggles to lift up someone else. Had I posted a video illustrating what I had been experiencing without knowing it? (I had initially included a different song (Yahweh) with the post. I switched it to "40" because, well, I felt it gave me the words to pray for my friends. How long?)

Quoting myself from my last post, "I don't know how things like this "work", but it is here that faith happens for me. The fact that people can bear the burdens of others while they are struggling under the weight of their own, engenders a belief in something Bigger and Better, but somehow similar to people, to human beings. It inspires in me, belief in a being whose likeness surrounds me."

Adam and The Edge were playing each others guitar. Adam was "bearing the burden" of The Edge, and vice versa. They were doing the work of each other, with each other. The writer of Galatians said, "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ (NIV). Theologically, this gets way above my head in a hurry. But in my heart it seems good, and right, and true. I "understand" it in my heart.

The response in me to watching those I love carry the burdens, heartaches, and struggles of others was the encouragement or prompting to have faith in God and a desire to lift them up to Him. It also encouraged me to reach out to them and try to help "bear their burdens". And finally it prompted me to type a blog, post a video, and share this with you. Why? I don't know.

I used to wonder whether these "voices" and "visions" were just me, or coincidence, or something else. Now, at age 41, I am finally beginning to believe, thank God, they are Something Else. I hope this fact somehow helps me (and us, if sharing it with others helps them, or you) to bear our own very real burdens, and also the burdens of others.

Intercession

It has been pretty tough lately for some of our closest friends and for some members of our family. They are all dealing with major concerns of different types. A few are battling life and death issues, and others are fighting things that can seem worse than life and death. I am close enough to  many of these folks to see the depth of the darkness they find themselves in, and to feel the anxiety and fear that come with a future that is so uncertain, but looks so potentially unpleasant. It is quite humbling to feel that my immediate family is "safe" and yet to see loved ones in so much pain of various types. 


However, in the midst of this, a very interesting thing happened this week. One day I "felt" that one of my friends may be in the middle of a crisis and so I gave him a call. My hunch had been correct, and he shared with me some news that would significantly alter his family's immediate, and possibly, distant future. After listening to him and offering him love, encouragement, and friendship, I encouraged him to call anytime to talk or to share concerns. He seemed very grateful, and we are close enough that I fully expected to hear more from him soon after that.


The next day when I picked up my phone after being away from it for a few hours, I was a little surprised to see that he had tried to reach me. He had left a voicemail. I was even more surprised when I listened to it. He had not called to tell me more about his situation. He had not called to ask for help or to get encouragement. He called because he had run into another one of our friends battling "issues" as mentioned above. Even in the midst of (or, perhaps, precisely from) his trouble he could see the pain and anxiety of someone else and wanted to let me know so that I could reach out to them if possible. 


Later, when I was able to return his call and confirm his suspicions that our friends were also in a crisis, he seemed completely focused on them. He and his family were still certainly in the middle of their own storm but he was wiling and able to be consumed with the well being of our mutual friends. I don't know how things like this "work", but it is here that faith happens for me. The fact that people can bear the burdens of others while they are struggling under the weight of their own, engenders a belief in something Bigger and Better, but somehow similar to people, to human beings. It inspires in me, belief in a being whose likeness surrounds me. 


Unfortunately, this doesn't solve the problems for any of these folks, at least not in a way I can see. However the response that somehow now seems natural (to use the term loosely) is to invoke the name of this being and expectantly (if only tentatively) wait for the help, assistance and comfort from him. Help, assistance and comfort are offered by the people I encounter everyday, and many times I have been offering as well. So that is what I find myself doing, and I am told it is called intercessory prayer. Tonight that is all I have, while those I have mentioned may be facing another sleepless night, I am wide awake as well, "on my knees" while at my desk. If you are reading this and are facing the darkness I mentioned, this is a prayer for you. If you are not facing the darkness, feel free to offer your own intercession for some of my friends and family who are or for friends of yours in similar spots.

I consider myself a novice at most types of prayer (all except mealtime grace, to be honest) especially intercession. However I remember learning that the book of Psalms was a collection of hymns, or poems to be prayed or sang. I also remember listening to the first compact disc I ever heard. I remember the conversation with my oldest brother, Scott, as we sat upstairs and listened to U2 War. Scott told me that U2 sang "their" song "40" as the last song at every concert for much of their early career. I close with it tonight and have included a snippet of the New Living Translation of the 40th Psalm. 

 ¹ I waited patiently for the Lord to help me,
      and he turned to me and heard my cry.
 ² He lifted me out of the pit of despair,
      out of the mud and the mire.
   He set my feet on solid ground
      and steadied me as I walked along.
 ³ He has given me a new song to sing,
      a hymn of praise to our God.
   Many will see what he has done and be amazed.
      They will put their trust in the Lord.


For those I love who are struggling tonight, I ask of Him, 
How long?

One, Shining, Moment

I shed a few tears while watching this years Final Four. This came as no surprise. After all, I usually get a bit misty-eyed when they show "One Shining Moment" at the end of the tournament. This year, however, this wasn't the "moment" that brought the lump in my throat. And though my heart was beating faster as Gordon Haywood's last second shot fell off of the front rim taking my hopes for a Butler University (my alma mater) national championship with it, this wasn't the moment that made my heart pound. The moment that got me this year happened in the game I wasn't really very interested in.

After watching Butler beat Michigan State to earn their spot in the championship game, I started doing other things and checking on the Duke-West Virginia game only occasionally. I finally sat down to watch it with full attention about mid-way through the second half. West Virginia was struggling to stay with the Blue Devils, and WVU Coach Bob Huggins appeared frustrated, bordering on angry towards his own team. It was right about this time that one of WVU's best players, Da'Sean Butler, fell to the floor and began writhing in pain. His cries and moans were painful themselves. The trainer, or team physician, came onto the court and tried to assess his player and had little success even getting an idea of the exact nature and location of the injury. It seemed that the pain of the injury and the pain of the realization of its finality with regards to his efforts for WVU, himself, and his coach were almost more than he could bear. He was in agony.

It was at this moment that Coach Huggins strolled over to his player and knelt at his side. His initial attempts to console his player had minimal success. He then knelt over him, nearly laying on him and wrapped his arms around Da'Sean's head and shoulders. Huggins moved his face inches away from his player's and cupped it in his hands. It appeared he began repeating himself over and over to Butler.  As I watched sitting in silence on the couch next to Holly, my heart began pounding, a lump formed in my throat and tears began to roll. I was amazed, but not surprised by what I was seeing. It dawned on me that the only thing that could intervene and bring some relief to the suffering we had witnessed was love. I knew that Coach Huggins was somehow loving this young man in, and through, his suffering, and Holly and I were watching it along with millions of folks across the country. Huggins looked as if his compassion and care for this young man were more than enough to soak up his pain.

After a few moments, Butler was calm enough to be helped up and off of the floor. Huggins appeared transformed. He continued to coach WVU with intensity, but it seemed much more positively focused. Late in the game he called time-out and substituted to get his remaining players an experience they can tell their grandchildren. When his starters came off and hugged each other in an emotional embrace Huggins wrapped them up in an embrace of his own. He was again loving his players through the pain of their defeat, and the realization that their dream, and their time together, was over.

It was clear to me what I had just witnessed, as I think it was to most of the people who saw it. Two days later, it was confirmed by DaSean Butler as he was interviewed by CBS. When asked to describe the on-court exchange, Butler responded,

“Coach demanded my attention, he talked to me, and I was apologizing to him ‘Coach, I’m sorry I couldn’t get you your first national championship.’ I was really genuine about it and I apologized because I wasn’t playing that well and I wanted to let him know I really wanted to get him his first championship. All he said was ‘Don’t worry about it’ and ‘I love you’ and ‘You’re a special kid’ and 'I love you to death' and ‘Don’t let this stop you from doing what you’re doing’ and 'I love you.' He continued to say those things to me and it calmed me down … I’ll remember that moment the rest of my life.”

"He continued to say those things to me and it calmed me down..."

It was One, Shining, Moment.