There are times in our lives when we question ourselves: “What's the point of struggling any more?” During these moments we feel that even though we can see the shore and are swimming as hard as we can it feels like we are only treading water of being dragged out to sea with the current.
Some of us are either at the point or already passed it, where we have given up any resolution to the political crisis in the immediate future. Some of us receive our salaries and try not to burst into tears as we wonder how our families will survive the next fortnight. Some of us wonder how our businesses are going to survive the global economic recession that is causing established companies to close down and how to tell employees that there might not be a job for them next week.
Some of us, as we clean up a desecrated house of worship, burgled home or bruised, battered and violated body wonder whether our faith in God, in humankind and love conquering all is strong enough to survive the injustice we have faced.
Yes, there are times when it is easier to throw in the towel. To say, “I've done all I can do,” and give up, and move on to where everything seems less of a struggle.
But, for the most, we find something makes us carry on. Shouldering the burden of injustice, ignorance, arrogance, jealousy, or apathy. Rather than seeing the light as too far away in the dark tunnel of circumstance, we grab hold of that pinprick of light and use it propel ourselves forward, onwards and upwards – into the light.
The road is hard and even though we know deep in our hearts that like all tribulations, this too will pass and that there are others struggling as we struggle, we feel alone with the weight of the world on our shoulders.
I hope the following story, recently sent to me as an email from a friend of mine will help those of you who are struggling with labours of love, making sense of the world or just trying to survive, to keep on keeping on. The Creator of the Universe has a way of making things work out.
“The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned to their first ministry, to reopen a church in suburban Brooklyn , arrived in early October excited about their opportunities When they saw their church, it was very run down and needed much work. They set a goal to have everything done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve.
They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc, and on December 18 were ahead of schedule and just about finished.
On December 19 a terrible tempest - a driving rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two days.
On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church.
His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster about 20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high.
The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor, and not knowing what else to do but postpone the Christmas Eve service, headed home.
On the way he noticed that a local business was having a flea market type sale for charity so he stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful, handmade, ivory coloured, crocheted tablecloth with exquisite work, fine colours and a Cross embroidered right in the centre. It was just the right size to cover up the hole in the front wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.
By this time it had started to snow. An older woman running from the opposite direction was trying to catch the bus.. She missed it. The pastor invited her to wait in the warm church for the next bus 45 minutes later.
She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry.
The pastor could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and it covered up the entire problem area..
Then he noticed the woman walking down the centre aisle. Her face was like a sheet..
"Pastor," she asked, "where did you get that tablecloth?"
The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria.
The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor told how he had just gotten the Tablecloth. The woman explained that before the war she and her husband were well-to-do people in Austria .
When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave. Her husband was going to follow her the next week. He was captured, sent to prison and never saw her husband or her home again.
The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth; but she made the pastor keep it for the church.
The pastor insisted on driving her home, that was the least he could do.. She lived on the other side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn for the day for a housecleaning job.
What a wonderful service they had on Christmas Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the spirit were great.
At the end of the service, the pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door and many said that they would return.
One older man, whom the pastor recognized from the neighbourhood continued to sit in one of the pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he wasn't leaving.
The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on the front wall because it was identical to one that his wife had made years ago when they lived in Austria before the war and how could there be two tablecloths so much alike.
He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and put in a prison. He never saw his wife or his home again all the 35 years in between.
The pastor asked him if he would allow him to take him for a little ride.
They drove to Staten Island and to the same house where the pastor had taken the woman three days earlier.
He helped the man climb the three flights of stairs to the woman's apartment, knocked on the door and he saw the greatest Christmas reunion he could ever imagine.” (A true story submitted by Pastor Rob Reid)
May your week be blessed with light, love peace and hope!
Reverend James Bhagwan is an award-winning radio and television producer and writer. He is currently on leave from the Methodist Davuilevu Theological College where he is a member of the Faculty. All opinions expressed in this article are personal and do not necessarily reflect the opinion and policies of the Methodist Church in Fiji or any organization that Rev. Bhagwan is affiliated with.