One of my roommate’s friends since childhood came to visit him tonight. This fellow sang an old gospel song to him, then reminisced. I am finally beginning to understand the damage done to Sam by his stroke. There is a tragic disconnect between his thoughts and his words. He honestly cannot get out what he is thinking. But he can still laugh, which is something I find poignant in consideration of his current lot in life. His friend prayed for him. I felt compelled to ask him to pray for me.
This fellow--and I am sorry to not recall his name--happily agreed. He knelt between Sam and my beds. He told me that he had suffered a crack in his pelvis two years ago. He could not walk with his injury, but now that he had a steel plate covering the crack, he could both walk and kneel. The latter was important in humbling himself before God. He he held my hand and asked my name. I told him, and added that I had been abandoned by my family in order to give him something for which to pray on my behalf. I kept my emotional turmoil hidden. So I thought, at any rate.
Two parts of his prayer struck me. One, he prayed that God would relieve my anger. My inner turmoil must radiate off me. Perhaps he could simply feel it in my hand. They still shake. The other part was praying that I would learn, just as Jesus was abandoned by his disciples while he hung on the cross, that I can be abandoned in the midst of turmoil and still fulfill God’s will. It was an extremely powerful point that spoke to my way of thinking. I remain skeptical Christians are given life abundant. A burdensome cross to carry while following Jesus? Much more likely.
I repeated his amen, then thanked him profusely. He said he would come around often to see Sam. He said we would all be friends and heal each other. It sounded like a good plan to me. He appeared to have much wisdom to offer. I could kick myself for not catching his name. But I am prone to self-abuse, am I not?