The Old Man and the Miracle

“God is in the business of doing miracles! He can do miracles, he wants to do miracles! He’s waiting for his people to ask for them!” The preacher had reached the climax of his sermon and was lightly slapping the pub table on stage for emphasis. There were head nods and murmured “amens” throughout the sanctuary (or worship center, or gathering place, or whatever they’re calling it nowadays), and the old man in the eighth row could tell the crowd was on the verge of a round of applause, which he always thought was awkward and patronizing.

The band (or worship team, or rock band, or whatever they’re calling it nowadays) had arrived on stage and the pianist was playing some emotionally charged chords as background noise for this poignant moment. The old man returned his attention to what the preacher was saying.

“Jesus says ‘Ask and you shall receive.’ Church, what do you need to ask for? Because I’m here to tell you today that God is going to do miracles if you ask for them!” The preacher paused just slightly, signaling to the congregation that now would be a great time for some clapping. The audience obliged, adding a few shouts of excitement.

Once the applause had died down, the pastor leaned on the round table and lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. “If you pray to the Lord, with faith as small as a mustard seed, he will answer your prayers. Right now, let’s do it right now--bow your heads with me. Think right now about your greatest request. Put it in your head. Think about the thing you want so badly to happen.

“Maybe it’s that your child returns to the Lord or a financial need that seems impossible. Is there a relationship that needs to be fixed, but you’ve tried so many times that you feel like giving up? What about a family member who’s sick and the doctors have said they’re never going to recover--God can do a miracle in that situation.”

At this, the old man felt a pang in his heart. With his chin on his chest and hands folded in front of him, the old man risked a glance toward the empty seat on his left.

This was where his wife would have been sitting. This was where he would have put his arm around her, lovingly stroking her opposite shoulder as she snuggled into his side. This was where he would have leaned over to whisper an inside joke in her ear while he was supposed to be listening to the sermon. This was where he would have bumped into her every once in a while during worship as they both swayed to the music. This was where he would have patted her leg and held her hand and kissed her head.

But the old man’s wife had died two years ago after a fast, aggressive, excruciating bout of cancer.

While he was thankful the Lord took her quickly so the pain didn’t last long, the old man still found himself upset with God occasionally. He thought about the hours he and others had spent in prayer for his wife. Their whole Sunday school class (or life group, or small group, or whatever they’re calling it nowadays) had prayed for weeks for a miracle to happen.

Never had he wanted something so badly, had he prayed for something so fervently. He remembered one session of chemo when the pain of seeing his once lively wife, now frail with sickness, drove him out of the treatment room and into the hospital chapel. There he had prayed for hours, down on his old knees for so long that he struggled to walk back to the treatment room afterward.

And he had believed God was going to do it! He had become convinced that the combination of his wife’s feisty stubbornness and God’s omnipotence was going to save her.

Yet for some reason unbeknownst to the old man, God hadn’t done a miracle.

Now, listening to this inspirational sermon, the old man couldn’t help feeling a little skeptical.

Oh, he knew the young preacher didn’t mean any harm. It was a good sermon, he supposed, and the others in the room seemed to enjoy it. But the old man was grateful most people had their heads down as he wiped tears from both eyes.

“Our God is powerful,” the preacher continued. “And our God is good, unbelievably good. Pray right now, where you are, for that powerful, good God to do a miracle.” The old man kept his head bowed, but couldn’t bring himself to pray. What could he possibly ask for at this point?

After a minute or so of the mumbled prayers from around the room mixing with the background piano, the preacher concluded the prayer and invited the crowd to stand and praise the miracle-working God.

As the last song ended, the old man picked up his Bible and coffee cup. He walked toward the doors at the back that were now standing open, letting light stream into the sanctuary. He waved at a couple of old acquaintances across the room, stopped and shook hands with someone from his Sunday school class, gave a side hug to a friend of his wife.

The old man ambled across the parking lot, pulling his truck keys out of his pocket along the way. As he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot, the old man sighed. Again he wiped tears from his eyes as he remembered the weekly conversation he and his wife had as they left the church: “Whatcha wanna do for lunch?” he’d ask.

“Oh, I don’t know dear. We could eat at home or we could pick something up, whatever you’d like,” she’d respond.

Then they would weigh the pros and cons of the four different restaurants in the town that were open on Sunday afternoons, finally settling on whichever one was next in the rotation. She had reached 64 years old: long enough for a good life, but not nearly as long as he would have liked.

Now, the old man was headed home to warm up a frozen pizza and fall asleep in the recliner.

Had he ever heard a sermon about what to do when God denies a prayer request? If he had, he couldn’t remember it. Before the diagnosis, he wouldn’t have needed that sermon; it wouldn’t have meant anything.

But now, what he wouldn’t give for some answers. What he wouldn’t give to hear God explain himself. What he wouldn’t give to hear that young buck pastor stutter and stammer as the old man hurled tough questions at him.

What happens when God doesn’t heal? Where do we turn? Why do bad things happen to good people? He knew all the answers, of course. There are things at work that we can’t understand. The Lord works in mysterious ways. At least when bad things come, we can lean on the Father. God’s will is far greater than our own. But those answers didn’t help. Those things that he had said to friends when their house had burnt down, or to his son when he got cut from the basketball team, or to his coworker when he lost his job -- they were meaningless and hollow.

For this old man, the preacher’s encouragement about God’s miraculous power and its availability was empty, frustrating, and meaningless. The Christian-ese that seemed so sweet and nice were actually bitter and heartless in his ears.

The old man pulled into his driveway, parked the truck, and went inside to start the oven. Perhaps next week the sermon would bring some sort of answer.