If someone asked if you live in an enchanted world, what would you say? I ask because, lately, we have approached the mystical realm, considering the evidence from terminal lucidity, near-death experiences, and religious experiences to support an argument for the existence of the human soul and its capacity to engage with a higher dimension. Somewhat selfishly, I ask the question because I sometimes struggle with the reality of living in an enchanted world. In fact, sometimes the world feels so very disenchanted. Sometimes the ministering spirits, and the Spirit of God Himself, feel so very far away, and so very, silent.
When I was a child, in bed late at night, sometimes I would ask God to just flicker the light switch, just for a second so that I would know. It would be our secret, “just flicker the light, just for a moment.” Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time, but what I was asking God to do was to enchantmyworld.IwasaskingGod to make His supernatural presence so apparent that there could be no way not to know that He was there, that He was listening. That He caredaboutme.Imightaswellhave asked: “Father, enchant my world,” because that was really what I was asking for: “By angel or spirit or by your own hand, flicker the light, and enchant my world!” But He didn’t. And since He didn’t flicker the light in my childhood bedroom, I wondered if He really heard me. More than that, sometimes, I wondered if He existed at all. I’m not saying that over the years since God has never made His presence known to me; He has. Rather, I am sayingthatdaybyday,Iamworking to open my eyes—working to see the spirit of God everywhere and in everything—all day, every day. I’m looking to see the enchantment that is in the world around me. I am looking to see the beauty of God in the sunrise, to see the power of God in the heat of the sun, to see the benevolence of God in the food that I eat, and the air that I breathe. The ever-presence of God’s divine providence. And more and more I am aware that I am living in an enchanted world. And I know this to be true. If you will bear with me, I would like to tell you a story.
A few years ago, I lost my mother to Alzheimer’s. She lived in a memory care facility in Austin, Texas, and I had visited with her a few days before. We knew her time was short so on Sunday of the next week, I went back to Austin. By the time I got there, she had taken to her bed and was now in a deep and unresponsive sleep. So my sister and I determined to camp out in her room until the very end. And that is exactly what we did. For the next three days, one or the other of us, it seems, was constantly by her side; holding her hand, cooling her forehead with a towel, kissing her cheek, telling her how much we loved her. There was nothing else that we could do. And so, it went like that, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day.
OnTuesdayafternoon,therewas a very subtle change; her breathing became just ever so slightly faster, and just ever so slightly louder. My sister and I pulled chairs up close to her bedside and each of us took a hand, and with the other, took one another’s. Over and over, with tears pouring down our faces, we told her how much she meant to us, how much we loved her, how much we were going to miss her. Then, we would sit silent for a few minutes only to begin it all over again. It was precious time. And as that precious time passed by, like two young children crying for their Mama, we sat there, hand in hand, and hand in hand, and hand in hand.
After some time, my sister asked if I would pray, and so I did.
In prayer, I praised God for the gift that Mother had been to us. I thanked Him that He had given us, to her. I prayed that she knew just how much we loved her, and I prayed that my shortcomings as a son be forgiven. I prayed that our grandparents, her parents, just over the river, might be eager in anticipation, and I prayed that their reunion be of indescribable joy. I prayed, and I prayed. Then, last of all, I prayed for God to come. I prayed that He come quickly, and I prayed that in His mercy He might “take her now.” All of these things I prayed in Christ’s name.
But on the word, not one second before, not one second after, at the very instant of Amen, Mother stopped breathing.
Eyes flew open wide. Mouths gaped open. Goosebumps raised upon goosebumps; every hair stood on end. Electricity shot through our held hands. Linked together in that moment by hands and by blood, God gave my sister and me a priceless gift; “The Gift,” of all gifts. In that enchanted moment, in that last living moment between the three of us, in that profound silence, God revealed Himself with unmistakable clarity: “I Am here, I Am watching, I Am listening.” God had flickered my light.
Gloria in excelsis Deo!
Ty B. Kerley, DMin., is an ordained minister who teaches Christian apologetics, and relief preaches in Southern Oklahoma. Dr. Kerley and his wife Vicki are members of the Waurika church of Christ, and live in Ardmore. You can contact him at: dr.kerley@isGoddead.com.