Category Archives: Memories with a Child

Overwhelmed by God

Have you ever had a moment when you were completely overwhelmed by God? What happened? How did your spirit, soul, or body react to his touch?

Perhaps you wept…laughed…collapsed…rejoiced…shouted…were totally confounded…or just went silent.  All of us are different and all of us respond somewhat differently to God’s touch. But one thing is for certain, when God touches a person, that person knows they’ve been touched.

Yesterday, as we were ministering to people who came forward for prayer, I saw the touch of God on a shy, blond-headed little girl. The fact that she came forward and waited patiently for her moment of ministry in front of almost a hundred people amazed me.

In fact, when I turned to assist her, I was struck by the matter-of-fact manner in which she stepped forward. No hesitation. No fear. It was as though God himself was escorting her toward her heart’s desire and she would not be denied. This little girl was waiting patiently in line to be hugged and prayed for by a ninety-nine year old lady who had just spoken for about ninety minutes. She carried her burden quietly but confidently, as if she knew somehow she would not return to her seat with it.

Her voice was so soft that the praise and worship music seemed to drown her words out. Ms. Ruby motioned for me and told me she could not hear what the child was saying. So I leaned in and asked her what her need was. She replied very calmly, “My Papa died!” A knot welled up in my gut, and tears flooded my eyes, but I relayed the message to Ruby, who took this precious baby in her arms, hugged her like there was no tomorrow, and began to quietly pray with here. Two people, one ninety-nine and the other seven or eight took a load far too heavy to bear into the very throne room of God and I was an overwhelmed witness of the power of God.

I was transfixed and undone—knowing I was standing in a holy place where all the presence and power of God was being brought to bear on an unbearable burden that was crushing a child. I was afraid to move—it was such a holy moment. I stood still and gazed at the wonder of God’s love at work.

I watched as God embraced this tiny girl because she was his most important treasure in the world at that precise moment. Her burden became his burden as he lifted it off her petite shoulders. Ruby’s arms became God’s arms as he drew her close to his heart. Ruby disappeared, and in her place stood the King of kings and the Lord of lords—the Lord Jesus Christ himself.

I couldn’t think. Or say anything. Or do anything. I was confounded and confronted with the gentleness of omnipotence. I was overwhelmed by God, touched by his power, yet torn apart by the tenderness of that touch.

That same touch carved out the Grand Canyon, dug out the depths of the oceans, and tossed the mountains into place. This touch, that flung the stars throughout the universe and gouged out the pathways of the rivers, had just wiped the tiniest of tears of the cheek of a little girl. His touch had reached deep into her chest and lightened the heavy load crushing her broken heart.

And…I was overwhelmed by God. Overwhelmed…because I know that I know he loves you and me in the exact same manner. He is omnipotence willing to touch frailty and give power to the powerless. He is unbounding grace willing to caress the powerless, the vulnerable, the helpless and the impotent. He is infinite love swallowing up the unlovable and the unwanted.

Oh God, I am overwhelmed by your presence! May I reside here forever more?

The Tea Party: Take Two

Several years ago I shared my disastrous experience as a guest at an imaginary tea party hosted by my granddaughter who was then four years old. Audrey became exasperated because of her Papa’s loud slurping of the make-believe tea and his refusal to hold his cup with pinky finger extended. She promptly banished me from what she obviously considered the social event of the season in Helena, Alabama.

Time (three years to be exact) has a way of healing those egregious lapses of etiquette and social graces. A few days ago, while visiting her at her new digs just outside Little Rock, Arkansas; I was once again invited to a tea party. This time I decided to do whatever it took (within reason) to be a humble and courteous guest. I feared if I were asked to leave this fantasy function I would be black-balled forever from the elite society my granddaughter rubs moves in.

The guest list was rather short, but it included Big Al and me. Big Al is a stuffed elephant (the mascot for the University of Alabama—Audrey has particularly good taste in football teams). The only things we two had in common were we were both male, a little overweight, and obviously not in charge. Audrey, our “hostess with the most-ess,” seated us in imaginary chairs at an equally imaginary table, which in reality turned out to be the floor. This was not an issue for Big Al, who is only a foot high and weighs only a few ounces, but it was a bit uncomfortable for me since I weigh quite a bit more.

imagesOur hostess went over to her closet and took out the perfectly manicured box that holds the sacred miniature china tea set and lace table cloth, and proceeded to give both of us very detailed instructions of what each piece represented and how it would be used. Amazingly, the description sounded exactly like the one her Tats (Cathy) had given her the first time they hosted one of these events together.

I kept quiet fearing I might mess up and be asked to summarily leave. I just could not stand the public embarrassment of being thrown out of such a high society event being held in the suburbs of the capital of Arkansas. If that happened I would never be able to live it down, so I chose to let Big Al be the center of attention.

After the cups and saucers were carefully placed before us, Audrey began pouring the make-believe tea hot from her dainty little china tea pot. From time to time, she would refill the pot from one of the handles on her dresser which she claimed was the steamer. In a matter of moments this bedroom in Arkansas turned into a scene from Alice in Wonderland.

“How many sugar cubes would you like in your tea?” asked Audrey. The last time I was faced with this question I asked for far too many and was verbally given a public rebuke. Timidly I requested one—to which our host responded, “Why not take five!” My! My! Things have changed in three short years. So I said, “Five it is—fill her up!”

Things were going so well. We were laughing, sipping our tea (with pinkies extended—all except Big Al who has no pinkies), and snacking on make-believe chocolate chip cookies. When all of a sudden, Big Al put his trunk into the tea cup and began blowing bubbles. I will always believe this happened due to the sugar induced high he got from the five imaginary sugar cubes that were put in his drink. All of sudden Big Al became the life of the party blowing tea out his trunk like a water fountain.

Audrey was mortified (after she giggled so hard she fell backward, but she quickly regained her composure) and promptly began lecturing Al on the finer points of etiquette concerning tea cups, black currant tea, cookies and elephant trunks. Big Al took a beat down for his indiscretion, but his facial expression never changed—he kept his poker face. After all, he is what many would call a “party animal,” and he was certainly the life of this upper crust shindig.

Eventually the pretend party came to a close. We all hugged and made plans to do it again. Audrey packed up the tea set and carefully put it away. Big Al made his way back to “T-town,” with a designated driver due to the sugar- induced coma he was struggling with. And I—I savored the memory of a moment I will never forget and silently rejoiced in my somewhat temporary acceptance back into the high society circles that my glamorous little socialite granddaughter travels in.

Moments like these are too few and far between. They are fleeting and are usually missed by most of us because we are too busy—too involved with things that really don’t matter in the long run.

What’s more important—imagination or reality?

For me—it’s an instant spent looking at the world through the eyes of a child.

Is it make-believe?

Perhaps—but in those transitory moments at the tea party imagination became reality.

By the way, I learned a valuable lesson in case I receive another invitation to tea party—real or imaginary. Whatever you do, never, never put your trunk in the tea cup. It is considered rude and atrocious behavior by the citizens of Wonderland.