The "Finger Prints of God" Are All Over This

Dr. Robert Ganges refers to God as One "Whose intelligence and Whose fingerprint seems to absolutely everywhere." Steven Curtis Chapman, in his song of the same title says, "I can see the fingerprints of God when I look at you." Fingerprintsofgod.org has an intriguing 10 minute video on the creation of the earth and its purpose. (Be sure to click on the "video" tab if you go there.) I am sure that there are other well-known references to this phrase, but for me it was new, and it resonates with truth.

Terry Larose is a son-in-law of Murray Holmes. Murray died last week after suffering a massive heart-attack at the age of 82. If it wasn't for the fact that Murray and Peggy were planning for a very public renewal of their 55 year old vows the next day, his death may not have come as such a shock to us. But they were, and when the news of the heart attack came, the weekend had all the earmarks of disaster. But when the funeral was over four days later Terry (whom I would describe as basically a non-churched man) looked at me and exclaimed, "I don't know if you are supposed to say this after a funeral or not, but ... this was wonderful. The fingerprints of God were all over it."

And I have to say, it was true. The emergency room became a sanctuary, and the stretcher became an altar. At the suggestion of a very cooperative nurse, I was able to perform the renewal of the vows ceremony. Nearly 50 people crowded into the small cubicle and listened as grandchildren read the Scripture, a daughter read the words of welcome, and we sang "Find us Faithful". (The words of verse three become especially powerful when sung in triumph in the death room.)

After all our hopes and dreams have come and gone
And our children sift through all we left behind
May the clues that they discover, and the memories they uncover
Become the light that leads them to the road we each must find

Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the foot prints that we leave lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful

And we all wept as I read a poem that Murray had given to Peggy many years ago.

Somewhere in the Darkness

When time has stolen away our stars, and only the night endures
Somewhere in the darkness, “Love”, my hand will still seek yours

When youth has danced its party dance and tasted its last sweet wine
Somewhere in the silence, “Love”, your hand will still find mine.

When God has taken away our years and our sun ceases to shine
Somewhere up in Heaven, “Love”, our hands will still entwine.

And through all of these things, the fingerprints of God were everywhere. I introduced them as the world's newest married couple, and one by one the family members came forward to say "Congratualtions ... and good-bye". Everyone knew what was happening. The doctor had told Murray and then the family that we were looking at a four hour window. I felt like an intruder standing near the head of this "stretcher/altar" in a scene that resembled an Old Testament patriarchal blessing. One by one they came forward, and one by one Murray reached out and blessed them with that great big hand and its gnarled fingers.

What a marvelous gift God gave this family, (and our church) as we witnessed His presence during this experience. When it was all done, another grown son looked at me and said, "On Friday, I was not a believer. Today I am."

Yes, Terry, the fingerprints of God are all over this.

Thanks be to God

Every step is half a mile

He called on Saturday night, obviously well inebriated and saying, "I need your help, and I'm coming to church tomorrow." We talked for a while, I asked if he wanted a ride to church, and he said, "No, I can walk." The last thing I heard him say as hung up the phone was, "Every step is a half a mile."

How true. When it is time to go back to church, the Enemy will make every step seem like half a mile. Amy, now the children's pastor at our church, tells of the times before she was converted. On several occasions, I had invited her to church, and on several occasions she had siad she would come. What I did not know was that on several Sunday mornings she actually left her apartment, walked right up to the door of the church, but could not find the strength to open the door and come in. Every step is half a mile.

As caring Christians. maybe a good part of our job is simply to help shorten the walk.