Golden Threads

There I was - entering a church building where I knew no one; not a single soul.  And oh, happy providence, I sat next to Lillian.  She became one of the precious golden threads that brought me into fellowship at West Toronto Baptist Church,(WTBC).  She was an older lady; petite and sharply dressed.  Twinkle in her eyes and hands folded so demurely on her lap, she held her purse in that sweet manner of her generation.

Our first conversation:

“Anyone sitting here,” was my question.

“Sit next to me, dear,”  was her response.

Well, as a Cape Bretoner, that ‘dear’ got me comfy 'right quick.'

 “What’s your name, dear?”

“Francine.  And yours?”

“Lillian.  Lillian Scott.  I love you, dear.”

I nearly burst into tears right then and there.  “Oh God,” I prayed, “You have given me such a gift!”

And so the treasury of a thousand smiles and sweet fellowship began.   I met her husband on that first night.  Jim.  I couldn’t bring myself to call him by his first name.  My father would have given me quite the lecture.  I ended up calling Lillian by her first name but called Jim, Mr. Scott.  I couldn’t help it.

I didn’t know it then, but I came to understand that dear Lillian was slipping into that uncertain world of Alzheimer’s - a disease that bullied its way into her life. Mr. Scott loved her so; with a fierce and yet gentle passion that encouraged my heart perhaps more than they both knew.  I needed them.  I learned from them.  They loved me; this stranger in their midst.  They wove me into the very fabric of WTBC, where I became a full time Outreach Missionary. For 15 of those 20 years in the Junction, the west end of Toronto, Lillian and Mr. Scott were there, sometimes literally holding my hand.  Starting with them, many wonderful seniors became intricately entwined with my life.

Over time, Lillian and Mr. Scott moved into a Seniors’ Residence.  And then she moved to the TLC unit.  Visiting Lillian was such an honour. We would chat about anything and everything.  I would sing and read Scripture and pray with her.  She didn’t remember me, but I remembered her.  Oftentimes,  Mr. Scott would be there.  His face would crinkle up in a smile and his eyes would light up with such delight.  Oh- the gift of those precious moments I had with them. 

There were challenges, and heartaches, as the disease stole away some of Lillian’s sweet nature.  I would say to Mr. Scott: “I know her ways of behaving have changed, but we also know that the real Lillian is still there - in need of joy and grace; deserving dignity and respect.”  His eyes shining with tears, he would nod his head and we would pray.

As much as Mr. Scott loved Lillian, he loved Jesus more.  Every month, when a few of us would meet for prayer in his apartment, we spent no time on small talk.  We spent time on our knees before the Lord.  And I am grateful.  I have no doubt that his prayers are still being answered on my behalf, and for the teens in the Junction who are now adults,  for West Toronto Baptist Church, and for the missionaries whose names he had written on sheets of paper - paper that became soaked and blotched from many a tear.

I thank God for these dear saints.  Both of them were already well into their senior years, their golden years, when I met them.  God used them in my life in more ways than I can count.  I pray that I will always have time for seniors. May I serve them well and love them well; these golden threads, woven into the fabric of my life, and into the life of the church.  

Every church needs them.  They need the church. 

Speaking of the church, Paul says:

 “Knit together in love”(Colossians 2:2); 

knit together by God’s grace and design.

Even now I miss Lillian and Mr. Scott with an aching in my soul

that I hope never goes away this side of heaven.

(Photo used with family’s permission)

Breaking

Ice breaking up in the brook.

Snow banks breaking down as they melt into the ground. 

Sun breaking through the wintry snow-laden skies. 

Bird calls breaking into my reverie.

Grace and mercy of God breaking over my soul.

“Let it come, Oh Lord we pray Thee.

Let the showers of blessing fall.

We  are waiting, we are waiting.

Oh revive the hearts of all.”

"Lord,

Break in and steal my heart again.

Break down my defences that keep me from You.

Break through my façade, so others can see You.

Break up the fallow ground.

  Break over my soul in grace and mercy."

A Great Legacy

Acts 20:17-38

 I’m struck by Paul's deeply personal tone, as he bids farewell to the elders of the church at Ephesus.  He had been with them for three years; with tears and trials; with them the whole time; night and day; teaching publicly and house-to-house.  He tells them that they will see his face no more, leaving them in tears.  He commends them to God.  He prays with them before he leaves. 

And yet, he also reminds them of things he did not do, while with them:

Ë Did not shrink from sharing what was profitable

Ë Did not shrink from declaring the whole purpose of God

Ë Did not cease to admonish each one

Oh my!  He was not afraid to remind them of his relentless pursuit of molding and shaping their leadership.  He was not afraid to “speak the truth in love”(Ephesians 4:15).  We have become somewhat of a fearful bunch, us Christians- we don’t want to offend anyone.  And so, we offend our God instead.  We shrink from sharing the truth and declaring God’s purposes and admonishing one another.  Instead, we obfuscate the truth, tone down the difficult providence of God and placate egos. I need others to be willing to point out to me where I’m wrong; to lovingly point me back to the cross.  I need a true spirit of humility to speak to others when they have moved away from the gospel.  If, however, I speak from a place of pride, I’d best not speak at all.  Taking the beam out of my own eye should occupy me for a long enough time that I may even forget about the speck in someone else’s eye.

Paul, he had earned the right to speak.  He loved them well.  He was not on a witch-hunt, sussing out those believers who were disobedient.  On the contrary, he was reminding these church leaders that they could be easily fooled if they were not alert.  If they did not guard against falsehood and “savage wolves,” the flock would be scattered and destroyed.  He reminds them that it’s really all about Jesus: “But I do not consider my life of any account as dear to myself, in order that I may finish my course, and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify solemnly of the gospel of the grace of God,” (v.24) and he says that he was “solemnly testifying to both Jews and Greeks, of repentance toward God and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.”(v.21)

Solemn is not a word often seen in direct connection to the gospel, but Paul links them here, twice.  Is it not a solemn thing that Jesus actually died on a cross, to deliver us from the penalty of sin and give us new life?  Is it not a solemn thing that people reject this and find themselves at the edge of eternity, with no Saviour?  Is it not a solemn thing when a fellow believer is in open public sin and we dare not love them enough to speak with them, to admonish them?

 “And now I commend you to God,” he says, “and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you up and to give you the inheritance among all those who are sanctified.” (v.32).  Precious words of encouragement, from a man who knew that his own road ahead would be marked with more trials and more tears.  In his final words, he quoted Jesus: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (v.35)  He loved them to the end, with a lasting legacy that was personal, powerful and practical. 

  Will I share what’s profitable?  

Will I declare the whole purpose of God?  

Will I admonish when necessary?  

Will I give encouraging words and solemn words?