My father is in the Alzheimer’s unit. When his caregiver became aware I was his son from Hawaii, her eyes brightened and voice lifted. Piecing the puzzle, she inquired if I was the son who was also a minister. I responded in the affirmative, then held my breath.
She abruptly chose to open the vault of her heart. By her own admission, she is not religious, not a Christian, but is investigating. In candid, respectful, and sincere conversation, we referenced my parents, particularly their vibrant faith. She concurred then shared a vignette that deeply moved me.
A verbatim quote paints the picture. “I see your father often praying in his room. Even in his condition, he prays a lot. The thing he prays about most is for the people, including me, who are keeping him from seeing your mom.”
Profound. Surely in Dad’s jumbled mind, being kept from the woman he has dearly loved and protected since she was sixteen represents the greatest injustice he could bear. His response: to pray for the perpetrators.
Picture this feeble 89 year old man practicing the habit he has donned for over forty years; second nature. That is living to glorify God in whatever condition. The true measure of a man is found when all pretense of life is stripped away. Only then do you find your real metal. My father, in his inner and eternal core, is rock solid. Still.
That, my friends, is a faith that functions in any circumstance of life. Does yours?
