It was a routine call to the Chaplain's office. A young psychiatric patient wanted to see the Chaplain. I arrived at her bedside to find a distraught, unattractive, pimply 17 year old, sobbing and red faced, looking miserable and lost. It was 1968, in the autumn, and here she was, a psych patient instead of a student. God wouldn't talk to her, she said, and she ruminated on scripture, finding herself more wanting each passing hour. She looked awful, she felt awful, and life was awful…
In saw her a few times over the next few days, and one time, following a hunch, I directed her to the story of Elijah asking God to speak to him (1 Kings 19:11-19) God's voice does not come to Elijah in fire, or storm, or earthquake, but finally, in a "still small voice" (KJV). More contemporary translations call this "a gentle and quiet whisper." More like an interior voice. So, I suggested that Julia listen for that interior voice, and know that God was in it.
On the last day that I saw her, I brought her a book to take home. I suggested she read it a few times, and then write a reflection on it. The book was The Ugly Duckling. She said she would, and I left her with a handshake and a hug. That seemed to be the end of it.
And then, one day, I got a package in the mail. It was the book I had given Julia, with an enclosed note. The note began, "It has taken me twenty years to complete the homework assignment you gave me…" It was 1988, and I was packing to leave the Health Sciences Centre in Winnipeg. The note went on to explain how she had read the book, and re-created herself in life as the swan she was. By now, she had completed seminary and was an ordained minister of the denomination of which I, also, am a minister. She was married, and living and working in the suburb of a large eastern city. I later learned that she had two children, and was loved by them and her husband, and was living the happy, chaotic life of a minister who is also a parent.
I pondered then, as I have many times since, about the way God had seemed to use me, a fledgling hospital chaplain, to touch and change a hopeless young woman's life. She moved from being the ugly youth she had been, to being the beautiful swan of an adult in ministry. When I thought of this today, the third Sunday of the Advent season, I remembered that we were talking about John the Baptist. John was Jesus' cousin, and had felt called to prepare the way for the Messiah into the life of the world. "Make a straight highway for our God." I thought how I had somehow prepared the way for this young woman to be touched by God in a healing and renewing way, and how that had made all the difference in her life. God had indeed 'come' into her life. Adventus.
Over the years, as I have remembered this event, I have been comforted by the fact that, if I have accomplished nothing else in 50 years of ministry, I have made a straight path for God to find and heal and use Julia. May you ponder the same possibility in your own life. Merry Christmas.
In saw her a few times over the next few days, and one time, following a hunch, I directed her to the story of Elijah asking God to speak to him (1 Kings 19:11-19) God's voice does not come to Elijah in fire, or storm, or earthquake, but finally, in a "still small voice" (KJV). More contemporary translations call this "a gentle and quiet whisper." More like an interior voice. So, I suggested that Julia listen for that interior voice, and know that God was in it.
On the last day that I saw her, I brought her a book to take home. I suggested she read it a few times, and then write a reflection on it. The book was The Ugly Duckling. She said she would, and I left her with a handshake and a hug. That seemed to be the end of it.
And then, one day, I got a package in the mail. It was the book I had given Julia, with an enclosed note. The note began, "It has taken me twenty years to complete the homework assignment you gave me…" It was 1988, and I was packing to leave the Health Sciences Centre in Winnipeg. The note went on to explain how she had read the book, and re-created herself in life as the swan she was. By now, she had completed seminary and was an ordained minister of the denomination of which I, also, am a minister. She was married, and living and working in the suburb of a large eastern city. I later learned that she had two children, and was loved by them and her husband, and was living the happy, chaotic life of a minister who is also a parent.
I pondered then, as I have many times since, about the way God had seemed to use me, a fledgling hospital chaplain, to touch and change a hopeless young woman's life. She moved from being the ugly youth she had been, to being the beautiful swan of an adult in ministry. When I thought of this today, the third Sunday of the Advent season, I remembered that we were talking about John the Baptist. John was Jesus' cousin, and had felt called to prepare the way for the Messiah into the life of the world. "Make a straight highway for our God." I thought how I had somehow prepared the way for this young woman to be touched by God in a healing and renewing way, and how that had made all the difference in her life. God had indeed 'come' into her life. Adventus.
Over the years, as I have remembered this event, I have been comforted by the fact that, if I have accomplished nothing else in 50 years of ministry, I have made a straight path for God to find and heal and use Julia. May you ponder the same possibility in your own life. Merry Christmas.
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