Good News October 2017 Broward

sat down and I prayed for him. I said my good byes, walked down the large stair- case and departed the house. I never saw my grandfather again, never spoke to him again. The call I received a telephone call from my father months later with the sad news that my father had received a call from an attorney stating that his father, my grandfa- ther had passed away. No funeral, no knowledge of where he was buried, no me- mentos, just memories. I don’t know why God had me go and pray for him that day. I don’t know what was necessarily accomplished by doing that. I also don’t know if God ever healed Philip. I do know, however, that God had interrupted my life on that pristine beach walk with a chance to interrupt the lives of two very sick people and their caregivers. I learned that God dispatches His people for some very inordinate assignments, not always knowing the who or the what, but knowing that He is up to something more then I will ever see or understand. I must say that my last memory of my grandfather is a sweet one. I do believe that despite the fact that his life was such a disappointment to so many, God loved him. His soul appeared alive though his sickness bound him. He could feel but could not speak. He could hope but could not act. Perhaps his regrets bound him, and per- haps my visit and my prayer gave him a sense of a redo… God is in the business of redo’s. Stephan N. Tchividjian is the president and founder of the National Christian Foundation South Florida. Visit southflorida.ncfgiving.com to learn more. PERSPECTIVE 6 october 2017 Good News • broward edition an unannounced visit would not hurt. He was not the kind of grandfather that you would schedule a meeting with anyway; just simply show up. I made my way to his island home, a small area several miles from downtown Miami. The island was gated and several celebrities call it home. The tropical trees lined the island in a manner that did give the visitor a sense of entering into another world, per- haps that world we all imagine when we think of a tropical paradise. The island was beautiful and the homes majestic. I pulled up into the driveway of my grand- father’s home. I was the only car in the driveway, and there was no sign of life. I parked and made my way to the front door and knocked. The door opened, and I was met by an aunt of mine who graciously ushered me in and quietly escorted me up the monumental staircase to the my grandfather’s bedroom. The scene appeared somewhat staged yet au- thentic. I found my grandfa- ther sitting in his chair, oxygen tubes connected to his nose, covered in sweaters and blankets. He appeared comfortable and happy to see me. My aunt stayed by his side, a care- giver sitting quietly by in her chair. My mind began to connect the dots. We ex- changed pleasant words, and I knew he was gen- uinely happy to see me. Loneliness, sometimes self- inflicted, does carry its re- grets, and when you embrace the genuine heart of someone who loves you, it soothes in ways that you forget. I sensed my grandfather was being soothed. I shared with him my beach walk story and was honest enough to say that God had told me to come and pray for him as I had for Philip. My grandfa- ther’s demeanor immedi- ately changed, and he responded that he would not accept my prayers because there was division within our family. I was acutely aware that he and my father had had a falling out. My father, a psychologist, had resisted some of my grandfather’s controlling methods, and it had cost our family. I was proud of my father. He led our family in a manner that protected us but at a cost, both financially and rela- tionally. I responded to my grandfather that though I was aware of the differences between he and my father, that I was the father of my own home now and that God had told me to pray for him, and I was going to pray for him. I added, with a degree of renewed courage and conviction, that if he did not allow me to pray for him, I would kindly leave; however, I would pray for him on my way home in the car, and there was nothing he could do to stop me. He listened to me. He glared at me. He heard me. He began to stand, as feeble as he was. I stood as well. I was not sure what was going to happen next. He looked at me and with his misaligned charm simply said, “good answer,” and he kissed me as the French kiss, both cheeks, and gave me a big hug. He (Continued from page 4) Trapped