God with Skin

CHAPTER 6

Tuesday, May 13
17:00 pm
Las Cruces, NM

"Jesus might have said, 'I became man for you. If you do not become God for me, you wrong me.'" Meister Eckhart

"Christ has no hands but our hands to do His work today
He has no feet but our feet to lead men in the way
He has no tongue but our tongue to tell men how He died
He has no help but our help to bring them to His side.
- Annie Johnston Flint"

"Where two or more of you are gathered in my name, there I am in your midst." - Jesus of Nazareth (Matthew 18:20 NIV)

Fred tells a familiar, “chicken-soup-for-for-the-soul” kind of story about a young girl who had been tucked into bed, said her prayers with her mom and dad when a thunder and lightning storm struck with bone-chilling force and window rattling sound.Her mom and dad sensing her fright told her that she need not be afraid, “God is always with you.” They made sure her night light was on and closed the door. The thunder and lightening increased in its furiousness. After an especially loud clap of thunder the little girl bounded out of bed and ran to her parents. They held her close and reminded her that she didn’t need to be afraid, God was always with her. To that she replied, “I know that, but sometimes I just need God with skin on.”

It was about 5:00 in the afternoon several days after Fred’s accident. I had spent hours that day beside his bed in ICU. I was feeling a little light headed and hungry. I didn’t want to go to a restaurant or the hospital cafeteria so I decided to drive home. Fortunately, our home was only about 3 miles from the hospital. As I drove through our neighborhood on this sunny afternoon I started to ponder, “I wonder what I should to be feeling right now? You would think that someone who has had a relationship with God for most to her life, a pastor’s wife notwithstanding, would be feeling very close to God. She would be overwhelmed with his presence and peace. As the car curved around the street I admitted to myself I felt none of these things. Instead I felt incredibly sad, very tired, and just plain empty.

I know that our walk of faith is not one that is to be based on feelings but I love those times when feelings line up with what you know to be true; when you can literally feel the presence of God, you know he is as real as the furniture in the room or the clothes on your back. This would often be the case for me during the singing of worship and praise songs or on a hike on a beautiful day in the mountains where the magnificence of creation would shout, “I AM!” I wished for that reassurance on my ride home. I longed to see and feel Jesus. I wanted God with skin on.

I was about a half block from our home when I saw him. I pulled over to the side of the road and watched. I saw him coming out of our home with a mop and a bucket, with a broom and a dust pan. Recently I found an open letter that I wrote to our Northminster congregation during this time.

May 18, 1997

What a week this has been. I’m not sure what I thought I would feel – you know, being a Christian facing the trial of a lifetime. To be honest there were not a lot of warm fuzzy moments in which I felt a supernatural surge of God’s power. My cry to God was that I felt weak and so brokenhearted that I didn’t think I could stand it. It would tear my heart out to hear Fred cry out in pain and not be able to do anything. When I would go home and see Fred’s tennis shoes, Brandon wagging his tail expectantly, or even see the TV that should be tuned to a sports station with Fred eating chips and salsa in front of it, all I could do was cry. I love Fred so much, I can’t imagine life without him.

It was in the midst of this weakness and sadness, however, that I did see Jesus. I saw him leaving my house after cleaning it one afternoon. He left fresh bread on my counter and food in my refrigerator. He even replenished my favorite flavored coffee creamer. He held my hand when I needed to cry, wrote me notes, and sent me flowers. He stayed all night with Fred so that I could go home and rest peacefully. He mowed my lawn, fixed the cooler, and saved seats for us at Melissa’s graduation. He prayed with me and for me.

Thank you for being God with skin this past week.Judy

God with skin on is what Christ has called us to be here on this earth. If that was how we acted, if that is what was on display to the world, it is my guess people would flock to the Church. Instead of that, the stories that make the headlines are of misuse of funds by a church leader, or that a pastor or church leader has had an affair with a church member or even worse molested a young person. If that is what I thought being a part of a Christian church was all about, I too would turn the other direction.

If you have had the wonderful privilege of being part of a caring family of believers - usually that means a part of a local church family - you know that there are a thousand other stories that could and should be told about how Christians care for one another. Ours is one of those stories that never made the news but should be told.

From the first minute of the night of the accident when Melissa and I were led to the small, private waiting room we were not alone. Dave Sallee, a colleague and friend of Fred’s was there with his wife Nancy from the beginning of the night to the end. He would go to the larger waiting room and give updates to those that had come to the hospital. God with skin on.

Our church was home to a Montessori Preschool. Some of the little children were being picked up when the accident happened. Several of the families with young children were the first to come to the hospital and begin a vigil of prayer and support. During the evening, someone counted 70 people that had come to the hospital. They spilled out from the Emergency Waiting Room, to the Hospital Lobby, to the Prayer Chapel. Some would go home, others would arrive as the news spread through the community. College students mingled with the concerned elderly. God with skin on.

I had developed a wonderful friendship with a colleague from the Head Start program that I directed. She was a gift to me. Betty was also married to a pastor but had maintained her own career throughout their time of ministry. She was a nurse who had spent time in public health prior to joining the Head Start staff. We had long talks and could gracefully move from talking about children and families in our program to our own personal lives. This interchange was sprinkled with times of prayer.

Betty sat beside me in the small waiting room, holding my hand and explaining the implications of the reports that the doctors and nurses would give us. She was a calming, reassuring presence. It was Betty who took Melissa aside and said, “if your mom is having a bad day, just give me a call. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Kresta, who arrived two days later, and Melissa took her up on that offer just a couple of days later. God with skin on.

At one point a man threw open the door to the small waiting room to extend his support and tell me the people at his church were praying for Fred. “And who are you?” He explained he knew Fred from Rotary. It was then that I realized the news of Fred’s accident was spreading like wild fire. The base of support was reaching far beyond our close friends and church members. God with skin on.

When Fred was moved to ICU where he would spend the next 28 days, there was a constant flow of people to sit beside me, touch me, encourage me and even laugh with me. Morphine masks not only the pain but the brain! Fred said some of the most hilarious things in his attempts to talk people into helping him get out of the bed that was so restrictive.

“Get me out of bed. I need to get the megaphone for the line dance.”

“Get me out of bed. I need to go see the Soup Natzi (from a Seinfeld episode)”

When those didn’t work, he turned to a more spiritual argument.

“Get me out of bed. I need to process the paperwork for the conversions from last night.”

We started keeping a notebook for people to sign, leave messages, and also funny things that Fred said. God with skin was there every day.

It was Sunday morning, three days after the accident, and I was alone in ICU with Fred. I couldn’t emotionally face going to church that morning and seeing someone else in the pulpit.

The quiet of the morning, however, allowed me an opportunity to talk with Dr. San Filippo. I asked him in the typical American, instant everything manner, “So, are you going to do surgery on his neck tomorrow or the next day?” His answer startled me. He said, “It’s not when he gets to surgery, it’s if he gets to surgery.”

Dr. San Filippo then explained to me what I turned into the Big Four. He said that due to the number of bones that were broken, there was a risk of developing blood clots. These clots could break loose and move to his heart, lungs or brain. Pneumonia could set in because of Fred’s immobility. His external wounds could become infected and his wounded internal organs could develop internal bleeding. Each of these things would be addressed medically but there were no guarantees.

Fred’s rotating bed would promote circulation and help reduce the chances of pneumonia, they would put in a vena cava filter to help catch blood clots, they would clean and monitor his wounds and his vital organ signs. But he reiterated again, there were no guarantees. Each of these things could take Fred’s life before surgery. He gave and example of a young man who had had pelvic injuries just a few weeks prior and had died of a blood clot.

I’m sure it is necessary for doctors to give the worst case scenarios and to not give false hope to patients and their families, but wow, hearing this news felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over me. At that moment, I sarcastically nicknamed Dr. San Filippo, Dr. Sunshine!

As I gained my composure, I told Dr. San Filippo that I knew there were people in the hospital right now who believed in God and were praying for recovery but, due to the seriousness of their conditions, were going to die. That is what we do. We are born, we live, we die. Many times death comes when we yearn for longer life, more time with our families, more time to do things that are undone, to see places we have not seen.

"But," I continued. "I believe that God is able to intervene in areas that are out of our control." So, I would be praying that God would be the attendant of the “Big Four,” that he would take care of the things that were out of our control. “You do your job, Dr. San Filippo, and we will leave the rest to God.”

Prayer was another area where there was real and overwhelming support. God was in skin by Fred’s bedside when colleagues from the Ministerial Fellowship would stop by and tearfully share Scripture and prayer. God was the Episcopal Priest who made the sign of the cross on Fred’s forehead each time he visited and told how his congregation had said prayers for us. God was incarnated in the presence of the Elders who came to the Trauma room the first night to anoint Fred with oil and pray for divine healing. God was there in the lives of those who came, and without saying a word out loud, put their arms around my shoulders. I knew their loving presence was a cry out to God on our behalf. And though not visible to us, there were thousands of people across the country and around the world, who, when Fred’s injuries reached their respective ears, fervently prayed for him and for me.

Having always believed in the power of prayer, this new outpouring for us was both humbling and powerful. Prayer became something more than a routine function; it became our lifeline to God’s healing grace and sustaining strength. And it was all because of the promise Jesus had once made: “Wherever two or more are gathered in my name, there I am in their midst.” (Matthew 18:20)

Sometimes we do need a God with skin! Knowing Jesus was with me in such precious, tangible ways was an absolutely life-giving source of grace and strength that helped calm the stormy seas and give the courage and peace to make it through this part of my life’s journey.