My Friend
In the aftermath of the miraculous healing of my friend’s father, there arose a bit of palpable resentment followed by open sarcasm toward me by some in the church leadership. Rumors had arisen regarding our small gathering to anoint, declare and pray for his healing and it seemed to offend some in prominence who wanted to delegate the healing event solely to the prayers of the church and relegate our efforts to pride or showmanship. Although I loved it there, I knew I had to leave in order to find a place where my newfound faith would be accepted, nurtured and allowed to grow.
I found such a place in the spring of 2007. (While I was searching, I read . . . voraciously . . . everything I could get my hands on that revealed this new way of thinking, of learning, of relating, of experiencing God, of loving and being loved of God, of partnering with God, of nearly everything!) I went to this church, which was about 25 miles away, solely on the advice of a friend. The moment I walked through the doors I knew I was home despite not knowing a single person there. It was the “next” part of an already extraordinary journey.
For the first few weeks I would sit in the back and just observe. I watched the people, meeting a few as relationships began to form, but mostly just observing this completely different environment. I would get there early, stay until almost everyone had left and intently, purposely watch: how people worshipped, interacted with one another, responded, especially after the “preaching” or “sermon” was finished, to the “ministry” time, a phenomenon I found quite fascinating.
The most significant observation centered around one man who sat in the front row for whom, Sunday after Sunday, people would queue simply to get a hug or word of encouragement. This man became my mentor and my friend. He was like the father I never had, even though we were just several years in age apart, and the brother I never had. I have met very, very few who loved, honored, valued and esteemed others the way he did. He was one of the most powerful men I have ever known and yet one of the most humble. They way he listened was extraordinary and in the years I knew him, he never interrupted or rebuked anyone and would lovingly offer guidance only when asked. There was never the hint of control or self-centeredness about him; his boundless strength was in the way he loved.
I asked him to mentor me early in our relationship and he consented as we also formed a deep friendship. For three and a half years we met at least weekly and then almost daily for the nearly five weeks preceding his death. He died from the effects of brain cancer.
In the months prior, there were constant prayers and declarations being made from many people whom I personally knew had been part of past healing miracles. We contended faithfully, battled courageously and our faith was strong in the belief that our friend would fully manifest the healing that had been provided him at the Cross.
I miss my friend.