A Miracle Called James

James Rui-An Gifford

Baby James Gifford arrived on 7 Feb 2008 (1st Day of the Lunar New Year) at 6.58pm. He weighs 3 kilos and measures 51 cm long. He is a beautiful baby with lots of dark brown hair and a small handsome looking face. Debbie was very tired after a long day and we were too, waiting at home for news from John who was by her side.

All day long I was mulling over the birth of my first grand child; not knowing what we will receive. Parents and grandparents relied entirely on God’s grace. Awed by the miracle of birth and groping to find its meaning, the song “I believe” came to mind. There is line in the lyrics - “Every time I hear a new born baby cry, I believe”. 

I believe for every drop of rain that falls

A flower grows
I believe that somewhere in the darkest night
A candle glows
I believe for everyone who goes astray
Someone will come to show the way
I believe
I believe

I believe above the storm the smallest prayer
Will still be heard
I believe that someone in the great somewhere
Hears every word
Every time I hear a newborn baby cry
Or touch a leaf
Or see the sky
Then I know why
I believe
I believe

“What’s the nearest thing to proof that God exists?” David Frost, the famous TV interviewer asked Dr Billy Graham the evangelist once. “The birth of a baby,” Graham answered, “I watched my younger son being born. And the doctor that was delivering the baby looked up at me and he said, “How can anyone see this without realizing that there is a God?”

I was anticipating James throughout these 9 plus months of pregnancy the same way as I was anticipating his mother’s birth 28 years ago. Back then I was more naïve. I was excited for my firstborn. Nevertheless, I felt the same anxiety and restlessness over the uncertainty of what will come. The same resignation that we can do nothing and that the gift we will receive is entirely up to God. Hardly a day passes without invoking God’s grace, mercy and provision for our family.

Kent Nerburn wrote in Simple Truth, “A child whether of your blood or someone else’s, whether healthy or ill, whether beautiful or misshapen, is one of life’s greatest miracles. It opens your world into a new sunlight and is a gift greater than a dream". Similarly, David the psalmist and king, contemplated, 

'Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous -- and how well I know it.' Psalm 139:14.

I am blessed to be a grandfather. We received a miracle called James. Praise God along with us.

Lionel

The Transition of a Good Life

Contemplation
Originally uploaded by Lees@Hollandia

Death is not a snuffing out of life; it is a transition into eternal life.

In the early morning of the 3 Sep 2007, my brother in law, Jimmy Goh died. A small malignant tumour in the lung had spread relentlessly over three years. It eventually spread to the brain. By God’s grace, in a coma, unaware of pain and other discomforts, he drew his last breath.

Jimmy was once a rotund, ruddy faced man. A man of sure faith who will not give up, the kind of faith that should God have willed it, he would be healed. All throughout his three years of struggle, he never gave up hope in the miracle of healing.

With every visitor to his bedside, he would always share the simple graces God has bestowed on him that day. There were many stories of his relationship with fellow patients almost always ending with the sharing of the Gospel of Jesus. His journey with God during his illness became a source of inspiration to visitors, many of whom were members of his cell group. They would later share of his optimism, his endearing friendship, his genuine love, his faithfulness to God, church and friends. Many spoke of his practical piety. Some shared that he always interpreted scripture in manner of attesting the goodness of God to him. He was a grateful fellow, testifying always to the faithfulness, grace and providence of God towards him and his family.

At some point in time, Jimmy must have discerned that it was not God's plan that he would receive a miracle healing. God must have gently alerted him that he would die soon. It did not break his faith. He did not intimate this to his family. If he had any complaints he probably admitted them quietly before God, never betraying his belief that God had his best interest at heart.

At the point of realisation that healing will not come, how does one interact with God and live the remainder of one's days? Frankly, I would not know how. All I know is that part of the Christian witness is to value the sanctity of life and the dignity of death.

As friends and relatives we may have to accompany these loved ones onwards in their journey. I greatly admire the pastors and priests who have been called ever so often to take on this journey with the dying.

One such person I found on the internet is Norman Ingram-Smith, who was Director of Saint Martin-in-the-Fields Social Service Unit from 1965 to 1985. He wrote an article, Facing Death.

"When companioning dying people I have always felt, at the moment of death, a going away rather than a snuffing out of life. The first time that I was asked to companion a dying person I spent a great deal of time preparing myself for what I then pictured to be a difficult matter. I thought about my attitude as I was to sit by his bed in that hospital ward. I rehearsed the words, both of my own and of scripture, that I would say to him as together we waited for him to be dead. In the event I found his bed in the ward, pulled up a chair and settled myself ‘to do this thing’ as I saw it. I was still young enough at the time to think that my greatest contribution to any situation was bound to be wrapped in words. I started on this dying man. Barely had I begun when his fleshless hand came from under the bedclothes and he said to me, ‘There’s no need to talk – just holding my hand will do.’ Not very many minutes later, still smiling, he slipped from his body which would now be pronounced as being dead and the essential ‘him’ had crossed, by dying, into whatever state there is for those for whom Jesus conquered death.”

Death is not the worst thing that can happen to us. After all, it is the spirit that gives life - the body is useless without it. Norman Ingram-Smith said, “Christians can only view life and death as parts of a single continuum. To see the process of dying as a sort of cut-off point is to deny the eternal life in which the body and blood of Christ are keeping us, which is the assertion at every communion service.”