It was a busy Tuesday morning and I almost forgot that
I promised a friend that I would go pray with her dad that day. Russ’ health
was fading fast as complications from a long journey with Parkinson’s was
coming to end. I jumped into my truck
and headed to the home of this dying man.
As I sped through the church drive, a sobering thought hit me. “I’m
rushing through my day to go pray over a dying man. I have spent no time in thought or prayer preparing
my heart to enter this sacred moment in a man’s life.” I stopped the truck and confessed my lack of
attention for this man’s situation. I
asked God to slow my heart, my mind and pace.
I prayed, “God, I don’t want to wing it!
I need your grace. I need your Word.”
As I pulled into the driveway, an idea came to mind. “I
need to bring this man a cross!” I
backed out the drive and retraced my route back to my computer bag I had left
at my office. I carry a couple handmade
wooden crosses in my bag that were specifically designed for situations just
like this. Let me explain.
I have a dear friend. His name is Trent and he’s a man
in his late 70s. Over the years, God has called him and his wife into a unique
prayer ministry. It’s a prayer ministry
for people they will probably never meet this side of heaven. Trent has a work shop in his garage and here
he cuts, sands, stains and polishes crosses.
These crosses are specifically cut to have soft, rounded edges and they
are all the perfect size to gently and comfortably fit into someone’s
hand. A small, simple and detachable
card is placed with the cross reminding the recipient of some of Jesus’
comforting words. It also informs the
receiver that the extensive sanding and polishing of each cross provides Trent
and his wife the time to pray for those who give these crosses and for those
who receive them. When I first met
Trent, he brought me a box filled with these crosses. He offered them for me to
give away to anyone that God leads me to pray with.
I entered the home of this dying man with cross in
hand. I was greeted warmly by his wife
and daughter as they showed me to his room.
Russ was struggling, every breath labored. His time to leave this life was getting
close. I showed his wife the cross and
explained to her what it was and who provided it. She took the cross and placed it in his
contracted, tension-filled hand. You
could see him squeeze the cross and though he couldn’t speak, it seemed he
liked the cross in his hand. I prayed
over Russ and his family. We cried some
and chatted about the hope we as believers have in the middle of the most
difficult times in life. His wife commented
on how good it was to be a Christian on days like these.
That night, Russ’ daughter called to inform me that
her dad had just passed. She said,
“Phil, you need to know that he clung to that cross until his dying
breath.” As I put down my phone, my mind
went back to those hurried moments, rushing through my day and through a church
parking lot to go wing a prayer for a dying man. I became very grateful for a God who not only
loves me but also this precious family enough to slow me down before he put me
into a very sacred moment. I became very
grateful forTrent who prays in faith for people he’ll never meet. But most importantly, I renewed my gratitude
for the power of the cross, not just that little handmade cross in Russ’s hand
but the Cross that Jesus willingly wore so that we could have life, so that we
could have hope.
- Phil Niekerk
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