After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to view the tomb. Matthew 28:1
Several years ago, I was asked to teach a Ladies’ Sunday School class. Although I had been teaching a delightful group of Senior High students and had years of children’s ministry work under my belt, I was absolutely terrified by the prospect of teaching my peers. What could I possibly tell them that they didn’t already know? What if they thought I was too old/young/dramatic/boring? And (foremost on my list of fears) what if they compared me to the beloved teacher whose shoes I was being asked to fill?
With much trembling and trepidation, I said yes and then begged God to teach me how to teach these women who ranged from fifteen years younger to twenty years older than me.
God’s first lesson came a couple of Sundays after I took the class. As I made my way from the worship service to the education building, I learned the 21-year-old son of one of our class members had just been killed in a hit-and-run accident. I lived in a neighboring community, so the mother of the boy had been a stranger to me until I started teaching the class. Although I had met her youngest son in the youth department, I had never seen her eldest son or the one who was now the victim of this terrible tragedy. As I entered the classroom, I felt myself starting an argument with God. I knew He was telling me to go to the woman’s home. But I barely know her. She has plenty of family members and tons of friends. I don’t belong there. She’ll think I’m intruding.
I’m not sure what made me decide to go. Perhaps I had learned by then that, no matter how uncomfortable the task, it cannot compare to the misery of standing outside the will of God. With my heart in my throat, I made my way to a home I knew would be filled with unspeakable grief and prayed the mother would recognize me. I reminded God I didn’t want to do this, and asked Him to give me the words of wisdom I felt others would expect from a Sunday School teacher.
People were everywhere and more were pulling into the driveway as I stepped out of my car. Grief was written on every face. I could hear people discussing details of the accident as they evidently tried to make sense of the shocking disaster that had claimed the life of a young man I would later learn was personable, popular and loved by the entire community. I could feel my legs begin to shake as I entered the house and looked for the woman I had come to see.
When I saw her, our eyes met and we were no longer a Sunday School teacher and student. Instead, we were two moms who could not imagine life without one of our precious children. As I embraced her, my heart filled with her anguish. I never said a word. I felt totally inadequate to utter anything that would bring any sanity to this devastating nightmare, so, for probably the first time in my life, I kept my mouth shut and simply asked God to comfort the grieving mother I held in my arms.
I was a little surprised to find her turning to me throughout the day, so I hung around a long time. I was there while she discussed funeral arrangements and I listened as she told me about her son who loved rodeos and country music and working with his dad. When I finally left, I simply told her to call me at any time, and I remember thinking how stupid I was, since I wouldn’t know what to say if she called.
She did call. And I didn’t know what to say. So, I said nothing. Instead, I let her tell me about her son and I listened as she tried to explain the sleepless nights, the haunting nightmares, and the heartwrenching ache that had invaded her new life as a mother who had lost a beloved child.
Over the next few weeks and months, as we met for lunch and spent hours on the phone, Liz and I became best friends. Her husband became buddies with my husband, and her son would end up dating one of my daughters for more than two years. Our families took vacations together and she and her husband were honored guests at our daughters’ weddings.
It was years after her son’s tragic death before I learned why Liz had been drawn to me. “Everyone else was trying to say things to make me feel better or to make sense of what had happened,” she told me, “But you never said anything at all. You just let me talk it out.” In spite of and even through my inadequacy, God had supplied exactly what Liz had needed. I learned an important lesson from the Lord. Sometimes all He wants us to do is just show up.
The women who encountered the angel at the tomb of the risen Lord had done the same thing. They had shown up. The disciples had scattered. But the women were there. They must have had to overcome great fear of the guards, they had to be ready to perform a distasteful task with a body that had been brutalized, and they had to make the decision to get up early and get going. When they got there, they encountered Christ.
As Mike and I prepare to leave Houston and our beloved Starting Point class, I find myself wanting to shout out to every member of the class, “Just show up!”
Where has God placed you at this moment? Don’t think you have to have something wonderful or unique to offer. Just be there. God will equip you with all you need to serve Him, even if it’s just a warm smile so that someone else feels they have a friend. When God calls us, He may use us. But, more than anything else, He'll make sure we encounter Him.
Just one thing: live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then, whether I come and see you or am absent, I will hear about you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind, working side by side for the faith of the gospel. Philippians 1:27
With much trembling and trepidation, I said yes and then begged God to teach me how to teach these women who ranged from fifteen years younger to twenty years older than me.
God’s first lesson came a couple of Sundays after I took the class. As I made my way from the worship service to the education building, I learned the 21-year-old son of one of our class members had just been killed in a hit-and-run accident. I lived in a neighboring community, so the mother of the boy had been a stranger to me until I started teaching the class. Although I had met her youngest son in the youth department, I had never seen her eldest son or the one who was now the victim of this terrible tragedy. As I entered the classroom, I felt myself starting an argument with God. I knew He was telling me to go to the woman’s home. But I barely know her. She has plenty of family members and tons of friends. I don’t belong there. She’ll think I’m intruding.
I’m not sure what made me decide to go. Perhaps I had learned by then that, no matter how uncomfortable the task, it cannot compare to the misery of standing outside the will of God. With my heart in my throat, I made my way to a home I knew would be filled with unspeakable grief and prayed the mother would recognize me. I reminded God I didn’t want to do this, and asked Him to give me the words of wisdom I felt others would expect from a Sunday School teacher.
People were everywhere and more were pulling into the driveway as I stepped out of my car. Grief was written on every face. I could hear people discussing details of the accident as they evidently tried to make sense of the shocking disaster that had claimed the life of a young man I would later learn was personable, popular and loved by the entire community. I could feel my legs begin to shake as I entered the house and looked for the woman I had come to see.
When I saw her, our eyes met and we were no longer a Sunday School teacher and student. Instead, we were two moms who could not imagine life without one of our precious children. As I embraced her, my heart filled with her anguish. I never said a word. I felt totally inadequate to utter anything that would bring any sanity to this devastating nightmare, so, for probably the first time in my life, I kept my mouth shut and simply asked God to comfort the grieving mother I held in my arms.
I was a little surprised to find her turning to me throughout the day, so I hung around a long time. I was there while she discussed funeral arrangements and I listened as she told me about her son who loved rodeos and country music and working with his dad. When I finally left, I simply told her to call me at any time, and I remember thinking how stupid I was, since I wouldn’t know what to say if she called.
She did call. And I didn’t know what to say. So, I said nothing. Instead, I let her tell me about her son and I listened as she tried to explain the sleepless nights, the haunting nightmares, and the heartwrenching ache that had invaded her new life as a mother who had lost a beloved child.
Over the next few weeks and months, as we met for lunch and spent hours on the phone, Liz and I became best friends. Her husband became buddies with my husband, and her son would end up dating one of my daughters for more than two years. Our families took vacations together and she and her husband were honored guests at our daughters’ weddings.
It was years after her son’s tragic death before I learned why Liz had been drawn to me. “Everyone else was trying to say things to make me feel better or to make sense of what had happened,” she told me, “But you never said anything at all. You just let me talk it out.” In spite of and even through my inadequacy, God had supplied exactly what Liz had needed. I learned an important lesson from the Lord. Sometimes all He wants us to do is just show up.
The women who encountered the angel at the tomb of the risen Lord had done the same thing. They had shown up. The disciples had scattered. But the women were there. They must have had to overcome great fear of the guards, they had to be ready to perform a distasteful task with a body that had been brutalized, and they had to make the decision to get up early and get going. When they got there, they encountered Christ.
As Mike and I prepare to leave Houston and our beloved Starting Point class, I find myself wanting to shout out to every member of the class, “Just show up!”
Where has God placed you at this moment? Don’t think you have to have something wonderful or unique to offer. Just be there. God will equip you with all you need to serve Him, even if it’s just a warm smile so that someone else feels they have a friend. When God calls us, He may use us. But, more than anything else, He'll make sure we encounter Him.
Just one thing: live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then, whether I come and see you or am absent, I will hear about you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind, working side by side for the faith of the gospel. Philippians 1:27
4 comments:
wow, Cindy, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that today. I know Kyle and I have not been members of the class for very long, but you and Mike have blessed us tremendously. We will miss you so much, but we are so happy for you guys and know you will love living near your family again! Continue to bless everyone around you as you have done here. I know you will. Thanks so much for sharing your heart with us.
Love,
Lindsay Silvio
As I read this I thought of me and how much I try to "talk" things better and explain away circumstances. Thank you for the reminder that sometimes the best thing to do is just be present. I cannot begin to explain the impact you and your family have had on our life. We are a different family because of your willingness to let God use you for his Glory. It's an understatement to say you will be missed.
ditto to what April said. I have learned there are times to just be quiet, but I still find myself having to literally bite my tongue. Isn't it wonderful when we do take that step to "just show up" and His power and plans work through us when we can't do it ourselves?!
Thank you for listening. I love you and Mr.Mike and Lia.
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