Orchestrating Heaven and Earth

Grandad,

I knew the day would be special, I just didn’t know how special. I had no clue what God really had in store. I made a comment to Mom while we were getting ready that this day was a day you would have loved. Our church was doing a weekend of baptisms, and without calling it such it sure felt like a mini-revival (although, 73 individuals signed up for baptism – with 133 total that ended up being baptized? Not mini, not in the eyes of heaven). You, who felt so strongly about baptism. To you, there was nothing better to see lives changed and the ultimate symbol of such – baptism. I knew you would have loved it,  no matter that you didn’t personally know those being baptized, that part never mattered to you.

What a powerful service it was. The stories coming from the big screen, individuals of whom some just recently made a decision to follow Christ, some who had been believers for a long time, some who had strayed and came back into their family… story after story, and the tears flowed.

I knew it would be powerful. I had taken a moment at the beginning of the service to calm my heart, clear my head, and pray, “God give me more of You today. Meet me. Don’t let me leave unchanged.”

“Go.”

What? No, no. We’ve been through this Tiff. You were baptized the week after you gave your life to Christ. Yes, yes you were four years old or so, but it counts and you have forever been comfortable with it.

“Go.”

I know I prayed “Meet me,” but this isn’t what I was expecting… I remember my baptism, I wasn’t a baby. It wasn’t just tradition…

“Was it?”

Well, sure. I mean, yes, it was the normal thing – Pastor Tim makes an invitation. Someone walks down the aisle, the next Sunday they are baptized. No, nobody really asked me if I wanted to be baptized, but I would have said “Yes”. I would have said “Yes” because everyone always got baptized… oh. It was the tradition of the church. Oh.

“You cry out for more of Me. You beg the Spirit to intercede. You want more, yet you are unwilling to take the first step. Take the step.”

“Do you not think I’ll show up?”

Well, I, no, I… I hate going up. I do not enjoy it, I make my chair an altar if I need. I don’t like asking individuals I don’t know to pray for me, let alone a baptism? This is asking too much. I can’t do it. I’ve only went forward twice in ten years to ask for prayer, walking away both times embarrassed and not enjoying the experience, feeling empty.

“If you cannot be vulnerable with your God then who can you be vulnerable with?”

“You have gotten to know more of me the past 17 months. You are changed, you are seeking, you are desiring. Go.”

I just kept listening to testimony after testimony Grandad. And it’s like He wouldn’t let me alone. He kept pressing. I’ve never had a clear experience such as this. Looking back I’m sure memories of Moses must have been running through our Lord’s mind or something… I had every excuse in the book. But even before I could grapple with one, another message kept coming.

“You pray every week for those who are thinking of becoming a believer. You pray for courage for them, the courage you don’t have. Today, grab onto the courage you pray over others.”

“You want to be a strong example for your daughter. You want her to love me with all of her heart. Be the example. Go.”

“We’ve been building a love relationship for the past 17 months. You have been finding yourself in me one step at a time. Take this next step.”

“Do you think I won’t bless you?”

That one got me. Do I doubt His goodness once again? Or do I trust what I have been learning about God’s character and not just recognize it, but actively trust. Taking a literal step, then another, and then another.

And so I did. I found myself in a room, shaking – but grabbing a pair of men’s boxers, men’s large shorts (thank goodness for drawstrings), and a men’s black shirt. I saw two of our pastors with hugs and smiles and for once? I wasn’t embarrassed.

Shaking, I wrote my testimony, not even sure it was a testimony. Leaving out the whole part about believing the past 26 years. It didn’t seem to matter. I only knew I’d been on this journey, a journey with multiple facets – new relationships, new challenges, the realization that I do have a story to tell – the realization that so much of what I thought about myself, about our faith, about the God of the Universe – a lot had been accusations not from our Father, but from the enemy. And I knew that this time, this time – it was about transformation, not tradition.

Walking out into the sanctuary and keeping my eyes on the screen to try to keep the shaking in control and I heard the sweetest little voice, music to my ears, “Mommy!” He had gotten her from children’s church. Amazing. One of my former excuses of, “She’s not even here to watch.” had just been knocked down. And do you know how much P kept grinning at me and asking me about this baptism? All morning long, it was almost like I was her hero. That broke me, the final submission and realization that this was indeed what was supposed to be happening.

I didn’t see the angels singing as I came up out of the water, but I knew walls had been broken. I knew I had taken a step. I obeyed in the way that was the hardest for me. I knew at that moment that the relationship with our Savior that I have been longing for? Well we were on our way. I would find what I was looking for on this journey. This journey that you, Grandad started strangely enough with your heavenly promotion.

I won’t thank you for that. No, not when every day I long to see you and to talk to you. But I will always thank you for the legacy that you have left. Later after the service I was nursing Xavier in the Mothers Room and looking out over the almost empty sanctuary. I thought of you and my conversation with Mom that morning.

“God, I don’t know how heaven works. I know that no one but you is omnipresent. If he couldn’t see it, could you show him please? If he missed it, could you rewind the tape at least? I don’t even know if it’s legal, but I have to ask.”

“My child, don’t you know I orchestrated heaven and earth for this moment? They collided. He is proud. I love you.”

You were not the reason for that moment, but it is strange that even in death I want you to be proud of me. I am glad we have a God who will orchestrate heaven and earth for the moments that simply can’t be missed.

I love you.

Tiff