Shirley

Fading sunlight flickered through stained glass as my husband and I sat side by side in the pew of a church that Sunday afternoon. I watched as the altar was being prepared for the service. Candles were lit; white vestments with gold embroidered trim were carefully laid over the rails, prepared for I knew not what. Being in a church was not unfamiliar to me; being in a church of this particular denomination was. We were there to attend a memorial service for a neighbor.

We had arrived early. There were just a handful of people present, mostly family; I recognized them in the small group that sat in the front pews. I thought how sad it was that there were so few people present, but then reminded myself it was still early.

The woman had requested that some of her ashes be scattered in the Church’s memorial garden, so a few minutes before the service was to begin, those of us present were invited to step outside for a brief service in the garden. It was a lovely, peaceful place, surrounded by hedges and rose bushes. A small garden bench had been placed in the center—a place of solitude and serenity. The minister explained that this part of the service was to celebrate the woman’s earthly life and to serve as a reminder to us that we are formed from dust and that one day we will return to the ground as dust. Those in attendance were invited to offer a short word of prayer, and many did, giving thanks to God for the opportunity of having known this woman.

When we re-entered the church, many more people were filling the pews. By the time the memorial service began, the sanctuary was full and people were standing around the perimeter of the room. The minister warmly welcomed everyone on behalf of the family. A number of praise songs were sung and verses from Scripture that had been her particular favorites were read. He explained that while the service outside had been to celebrate her earthly life, this service was to celebrate her eternal life. He gave a short review of her life, filling in many of the blanks in my own knowledge of her. He told how she had grown up in upstate New York, but had come, all on her own, to California as a young woman in response to a newspaper advertisement. In addition to all the normal things that can be said about a life once lived, he told too of her salvation experience—how she had accepted the Lord Jesus as her Savior as a young girl, but had wandered away from Him in her youth. How later she had recommitted her life to Jesus and had served Him faithfully in so many ways.

The time came, during the service, when others were invited to share their own special memories of this woman. One by one, people on every side stood to share how this woman had touched and enriched their lives. They told of her wonderful sense of humor, her kindness and generosity. She had an interest in writing and had been a member of a “Write Group”, a group of aspiring writers who met regularly to critique each other’s writing and encourage each other in their writing endeavors. They told how she took the time to drive all the way out to the desert to visit a young man in prison on a regular basis. They told of how, upon retirement, she had spent four years working with her brother and his wife in France with Greater Europe Mission—of the many friends she had made there and the lives she had touched. They spoke of her firm belief in the power of prayer and of her willingness to pray with anyone about anything anytime of the day or night. The words “Prayer Warrior” were mentioned over and over again.

As I sat and listened, an unbelievable sense of remorse and regret settled upon me. It was as if the Lord were speaking to me and saying, not unkindly, but in love, “I brought you here because I wanted to show you what you could have had. Learn from this.”

You see, this wonderful woman, whom I barely knew, had lived directly across the street from me for twenty-five years. Twenty-five years! In the years that have passed since her death I have repeatedly asked myself how I could have possibly deprived myself of someone that I not only had so much in common with, but who most certainly would have made a difference in my life.

I am not, by nature, a gregarious person. It is not an easy thing for me to reach out and initiate friendships. But this special woman’s home-going prompted me to re-evaluate some of my attitudes. It also caused me to ponder some of God’s special gifts.

The gift of this woman’s friendship sat right across the street from me for a quarter of a century. It couldn’t have been more obvious if it had been wrapped in bright paper and tied with a giant bow. Yet, there it sat, unopened and inaccessible because I was too timid, shy, busy, didn’t want to appear nosy…whatever. You name the excuse because I’ve used them all.

Another gift God has given to all of us is the Body of Christ—followers of Christ who gather together to worship and praise God in homes and churches, storefronts and cathedrals all over the world. This gift crosses denominational lines. As I sat in this woman’s home church, taking in the beauty of the stained-glass windows; as I followed the unfamiliar liturgy of the service yet sang the familiar hymns and praise songs; as I felt and observed the warmth and love and friendliness of the people who had gathered to share their memories, I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit as surely as if I had been sitting in my own familiar place of worship. Surely, the presence of the Lord was in that place. Don’t let inconsequential doctrinal differences rob you of precious friendships. Denominational ties are not as important as the content of your faith or the spiritual health of your heart.

Of course, God’s ultimate gift is the gift of His Son, Jesus Christ. The Giver of this gift will never impose it on you. He will never shove it into your arms and say “Here!”, forcing you to accept it. He simply set His Treasure down on earth and said, “This is for you, because I love you so much.” What is even more amazing than that though, is that so many refuse to reach out and accept the gift so freely and lovingly offered. There He stands in all His resplendent glory, wrapped up in love and mercy and forgiveness, waiting for us to reach out and accept Him. Instead, we turn aside. “I’m too busy.” “It couldn’t possibly be meant for me. I don’t deserve it.” “I don’t want to get involved.” “If I accept this gift, I’ll have to commit to something.”

I’ve come to realize that reaching out and accepting God’s gifts, whether they are friendship, spiritual family ties, or salvation, does involve time, does involve a certain amount of courage, and does involve commitment. And, in the case of salvation, it’s totally undeserved. However, I would not be living life the way it was meant to be lived if I were to turn away from any of them. I know that one of my biggest regrets will always be that I didn’t pursue the gift of friendship that God so lovingly placed in my path. But I also know this: When we all get to heaven, Shirley will be there, and she will be my friend.

“Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.” – Revelation 3:20