An intriguing story appeared sometime back in USA Today. It seems that a Miss Candy Postlethwaite received a sizeable check from the Veteran’s Administration. That’s not the strange part. The strange part is that the check was not made out to her, nor did she know the person to whom the check was made out, nor had she ever been in the military.
She put an envelope containing the check back outside for the postman to pick up on his next round. Five days later she got it back in a different envelope. She telephoned the V. A. office in her district and was directed to send the check there. She did--one week later she received the check back, in the same envelope.
Next she mailed it to the Treasury Department office in Kansas City where the check was originally issued along with a certified letter advising that it did not belong to her and that she did not know the person to whom it had been issued. The check was returned to her in a different envelope.
Somewhat befuddled she took it next to the local postmaster. After explaining her situation to him, he advised her to give it to him for return to the Veteran’s Administration. Relieved she returned home. Two weeks later she received the check again! She was then instructed to mail it to Waco. It then returned yet another time! After the seventh delivery she called the Dallas V. A. people and was told they didn’t know what else they could do.
In desperation she called the secret service office and told one of the agents she intended to destroy the check. He informed her that to destroy the check would be against the law--it was government property! She told him she’d just cash it, to which he answered that she could not keep it either-- it wasn’t hers! The paper went on to say she is awaiting further instructions. (1)
That must have been a frustrating experience for Candy, though somewhat amusing to us. Sometimes in life there come similar experiences that are not amusing. I would liken it to a frustrating telephone call. That is where the title for this message comes from. It is addressed to anyone who has ever been “put on hold.”
Being put on hold is a familiar as well as frustrating experience for many of us. It is particularly frustrating when the matter you’re calling about is urgent. They’ve added pleasant music to hold buttons nowadays. It doesn’t help when the situation is serious, however. In fact, it is even more irritating! Life is no fun when you are put on hold.
Picture a frantic father whose daughter is dying. He has no phone but he has heard that there is a specialist nearby who may be able to save his daughter’s life. He puts on his coat and searches the community for this esteemed physician. When he finds the physician he hurries up to him. Even though he is a man of some prominence and power in the community, this worried father lays aside his pride and literally gets on his knees at the physician’s feet and begs him to come see his daughter. The father’s name is Jairus. The esteemed physician’s name is Jesus. Would Jesus come lay his hands on the girl? Of course he would. Mark tells us simply, “Jesus went with him.”
But wait. There’s a break in the story. While Jesus is making his way through the throng after Jairus, a woman with an issue of blood reaches out and touches the hem of Jesus’ garment. Jesus stops, engages her in conversation and ministers to her in a beautiful way.
Can you imagine, though, how Jairus felt watching this? His young daughter is dying and this irksome woman is tying up Jesus’ time with her complaint. Can you imagine the stress this frantic father was under at this particular moment? Put on hold while the Master ministered to another.
The same thing happened to Mary and Martha. They sent for Jesus at the sickness of their brother Lazarus but it was days before Jesus responded. “If you had been here,” they said, with a hint of accusation, “our brother would not have died.”
Why does the Master seem to dawdle sometimes? Why isn’t he quicker to respond to our requests? Doesn’t he know that the matter is urgent? Is there anyone here who has not asked that question at some time or another about God?
This question goes right to the heart of prayer. Why do our prayers sometimes seem to go no higher than the ceiling?
A third grade teacher had been working long and hard to help a certain student improve his behavior and attitude. After a reading session that was continuously disrupted by this student, the teacher in her frustration said to the boy, “John, I am going to turn you over to God.”
Another boy who happened to be walking by said, “Mrs. Jones, God is going to give him right back to you.” (2)
Why does that seem sometimes to be true of our prayers? Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn prayed for a fishing pole and hooks. When he got only the pole, he gave up prayer. Most of us are not that rash. We know God loves us. We know He is aware of our concerns. We have confidence that he is moved by our prayers. It’s just that sometimes he seems to move very slowly. And it is difficult for us to deal with those delays. We feel so helpless.
An O’Hare Airport study of air traffic controllers, completed just prior to the controller’s strike several years ago, confirmed the high stress level that these controllers are under. The job is stressful, however, not simply because these controllers have to make decisions that affect the lives of others. They are stressed also because, although they are called controllers, they often feel they are anything but in control because of fluctuating weather, pilot error, equipment failure, etc.
So also, we are told, nurses have more stress than physicians because they have less control while still having the responsibility. (3)
In such situations where we have responsibility but not control we have learned to depend on prayer. But anyone who has long had an active prayer life knows that there are times when we confront a profound silence on the other end of our prayer line.
North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina houses the center of an international cult called “The Lovers of Meher Baba.” Meher Baba means “loving father” in Hindustani. Baba was a real person, born Merwan S. Irana in 1894 in Poona, India. He proclaimed himself the new incarnation of Jesus Christ. He recruited many wealthy followers thereby establishing many orphanages, hospitals, schools, and shelters for the poor.
Baba is most noted for his silence. From 1925 until his death January 31, 1969, he spoke not one word. He wrote volumes and gave lectures with the help of blackboards and alphabet boards. He promised to eventually speak the “One Word” that would bring world peace and spiritualize the world. He set dates to break his silence and postponed each one. Ironically, however, Baba died in an auto accident near Knoxville, Tennessee before he had a chance to break his silence. (4)
He never spoke that one word that would solve the world’s problems. Sometimes God is like that. We know He knows about our distress. We know He cares. He just seems to dawdle. He seems to put us on hold.
Picture this frantic father waiting for Jesus to minister to the woman with the issue of blood. Then his worse fears are realized. Some friends come from his house. He could probably sense the news even before they spoke. It’s the news no parent wants to receive. “Your daughter is dead,” his friends say. “Why bother the Master any longer?” Poor Jairus feels a sudden terrible ache within. His friends try to give him their support but there is a limit even to the help your best friend can give you at a moment like that. Something more is needed.
Fortunately Jesus was still there. He had not forsaken Jairus just as he does not forsake us. He probably touched him on the arm or the shoulder as he said, “Don’t be afraid, just believe.” He was asking a lot of this man.
There is on record a conversation between Daniel Webster and some of his friends concerning the most beautiful passage in literature. Webster slowly quoted these exquisite words from Habakkuk: “Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.” (3: 17-18). And of course this is the central message for today. When we are put on hold, as we sometimes are, we hold on ever firmer to the promises of God. We know God will not forsake us even if He does not work on our time schedule.
Author Tim Kimmel tells about tiny cemetery that sits outside of Phoenix, Arizona blown by hot desert winds and rarely visited. Amidst the Bermuda grass and west of a pond lies a modest grave marker: PUNKIN--In loving memory--Jennifer Marie Strader--August 11, 1975--December 13, 1984.
Young Jennifer’s life was snatched away from her on a tragic drive home from school one afternoon when a young man ran a red light, and crashed into her. What makes this tragedy worth noting is how Jennifer’s parents dealt with the worst phone call a parent can receive.
Roger Strader is a song writer, and was conducting a Christmas choir in Salem, Oregon when he got the call. “There’s been an accident, and Jennifer didn’t make it.” Just like that. A father of three becomes a father of two. With a funeral to plan. And Christmas presents to unwrap.
When Roger returned home his normally confident spirit was crushed with gut-wrenching longings for his little girl. Everywhere he turned he was reminded of her--an unfinished project, artwork in her room--memories of his nine-year old haunted him at every turn.
Roger had prayed a hundred times since the tragedy, but a few days before the funeral he tucked his wife and children in bed and walked to the stillness of his study. And he wept. And he poured out his heart to God. And God visited him with peace. Roger, as I said, was a hymn writer, and his study had a stereo system and a bunch of tapes. He walked across the room and plunked in an old song he had written and heard many times. But this time the chords were from heaven and he hung on the lyrics as if he were hearing them for the first time.
In a world that’s wracked by sin and sorrow,
There is peace.
When you find no hope for your tomorrow,
There is peace.
When it seems your heavy burden is much too much to bear,
In Jesus, there is perfect peace. (5)
Jesus made his way to Jairus’ house accompanied by his three closest disciples--Peter, James, and John. When he came into the house he saw family and friends weeping loudly. “Why all this crying and commotion?” Jesus asked. “The girl is not dead. She is only sleeping.”
Those gathered there ridiculed his diagnosis. He asked them to leave the house. Then he went into the room where the little girl lay. Taking her by the hand he said to her, “Talitha cumi.” “Little girl, I say to you arise.” And she arose.
Does this story disturb you? Do you believe Jesus could perform this kind of miracle? A prominent neurosurgeon recalls an incident that occurred when he was a senior medical student. He was working in an emergency room when an unconscious 12-year-old boy was wheeled in with a stab wound to his heart. The cardiac monitor showed a straight line. The boy’s skin was cold and his pupils didn’t react to light, indicating that the boy’s brain was not functioning.
Rainer looked to the nurse and said, “He’s dead,” and told her to turn off the monitor. Just then a doctor came in, felt the wound on the dead boy, grabbed a needle and stuck it into the boy’s chest. Immediately the boy’s heart began to beat; a few hours and an operation later he was moving his legs and mumbling.
Rainer comments, “I left the room and wandered down the hall, discouraged. I had just pronounced a boy dead who had been saved seconds later while I watched.” (6)
Is it really any more difficult to believe that the Lord of Life can take a little girl’s hand and bring her back from the dead than that a surgeon can perform the same miracle with a needle pressed into the chest?
We hold on to Christ’s promises because we know that he is the Lord of life and death. When our lives are put on hold we do not let go, because we know that he does not let go of us.
Ivan Turgenev (1818-1883) is regarded as one of Russia’s three greatest novelists. He was the first Russian writer to win wide recognition outside Russia.
In his book Fathers and Sons, Turgenev tells about a father and mother whose only son had been killed in a war. They go out to another poorly kept cemetery to visit his grave. The weeds have grown up, the fence is down, the trees have fallen and been left where they fell. But there is one grave that is well kept, green and smooth as velvet. It is the grave of their son.
As the elderly couple stand holding hands, looking down on the green, flower-covered grave, they bow their heads in prayer. “O gracious Heavenly Father,” they pray, “grant that one day in [your] homeland and in your own eternity we three may be together again, and know each other and love each other and live down the centuries together. O God, please grant this one thing, that we may live together again.” (7)
What a profound prayer. This couple’s lives had been put on hold in terms of their relationship with their son, but they trusted God that the three would one day be reunited. They had come to know Christ as the Lord of life and death. They held on ever tightly to God’s promises. And so should we whenever our lives are put on hold.
1. From a sermon by Pastor Don Emmitte.
2. Richard A. Jensen, Telling the Story (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House).
3. William E. Hulme, Managing Stress in Ministry (San Francisco: Harper and Row Publishers).
4. From a sermon by Rev. Ernie Nivens, Tranquil United Methodist Church, Greenwood, S.C.
5. Little House on the Freeway (Portland: Multnomah) p. 47- 52.
6. J. Kenyon Rainer, M.D., First Do No Harm: The Making of a Neurosurgeon (New York: Random House).
7. C. Ray Angell, Rejoicing on Great Days (Nashville: Broadman Press), p. 20.