Over the last few days I have been privileged to witness three different acts (not sure that is the right word) of humility, and they were all beautiful. The first two were by carers who had brought their charges along to church for communion on Sunday. One pair came to each of the morning services I was leading and they both struck me by the gentle and loving way they responded to the people in their care, making sure they were able to participate in the service.
At the first service the young woman brought an elderly man from a nearby residential home, she walked patiently with him, making sure he could hold the book and the communion glass in his shaking hands, gently raising the glass to his lips so that he could receive and making sure she walked at his pace.
At the second service a young man came with another man, I'd guess he was in his mid forties and clearly had learning difficulties as well as having trouble with balance and movement, they were a bit late but the younger companion helped his friend to find a seat, and then helped him at enormous physical cost to stand for the hymns, when I spoke to him afterwards I mentioned that it would have been OK for his friend to sit he simply remarked that he knew that, but his friend wanted to stand!
In both of these carers I saw the love, patience and grace of Christ reflected, they both came forward at communion and I am glad that they both received the elements, because to me they were a better sermon than I could give, they showed me the Christ who supports and walks with us in our brokenness, the Christ who does not despise our frailty but supports us in it, the Christ who enables us to be more, and to do more than we ever could without him. They displayed gentleness, kindness and patience but most of all humility, as if they recognised in their companions a reflection of their own humanity a beauty in their brokenness that made them worthy of care, time, and consideration.
The third act of humility was different, I was visiting a member who is recovering from
by-pass surgery, he is truly "lucky" to be alive, a fit man who walked and practiced yoga he went to the hospital for a check up only to find himself whisked up onto the ward to wait for by-pass surgery, the arteries around his heart were almost completely clogged up. A four week wait, a seven hour operation and a couple of weeks in recovery later and he is home, when I offered to pray with him at the end of the visit he sank to his knees. I was surprised, but did the same, he'd never done anything like that before, now he says he has to, he has recognised his own vulnerability and need of God!
It left me wondering how often we are aware of our very real and deep need for God, and how we respond to his promise to be with us always, how we receive his words of affirmation and acceptance when we are at our most vulnerable. Do we know he is standing alongside us, standing with us and supporting us? Do we acknowledge that presence and receive support? As one who suffers from depression I know that there are times when if I try to be strong and to appear whole and healthy then I can come dangerously close to rejecting that the help that I need, and then the clay pot of my life becomes emptied, the well spring of my life dries up, and it seems that the glory of God is dim, and indwelling life giving Spirit of God is far away. But always somewhere deep within I know the truth, that God is standing with me, even in the darkest places, and that if only I could turn and sink to my knees and hold out my hands to him then he would help me to stand. It is then, when I am at my lowest that I discover that when I have no words to say and no strength even to turn in his direction that God comes, kneels before me and gently washes my feet. When I need rest he leads me to a place of rest and demands nothing of me, and asks me to ask nothing of myself, and if I respond with the humility that acknowledges my need then the healing can begin.
