Once a woman asked me to come and pray with her father, who was dying of cancer. When I arrived, I found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows and an empty chair beside his bed.
I assumed the old fellow had been informed of my visit. “I guess you were expecting me,”
I said. “No, who are you?”
“I’m the new associate at your parish,” I replied. “When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to show up.”
“Oh yeah, the chair,” said the bed-ridden man. “Would you mind closing the door?”
Puzzled, I shut the door.
“I’ve never told anyone this, not even my daughter,” said the man, “but all my life I have never known how to pray. At the Sunday Mass I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head. I abandoned any attempt at prayer,” he continued, “until one day about four years ago my best friend said to me, ‘Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here’s what I suggest. Sit down on a chair, place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It’s not spooky because He promised, “I’ll be with you all days.” Then just speak to Him and listen in the same way you’re doing with me right now.’
“So, Padre, I tried it, and I like it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day.
I’m careful though. If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she’d send me off to the funny farm.”
I was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old guy to continue on the journey. Then I prayed with him, anointed him with oil, and returned to the rectory.
Two nights later the daughter called to tell me that her daddy had died that afternoon. “Did he seem to die in peace?” I asked. “Yes. But there was something strange. In fact, beyond strange—kinda weird. Apparently just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside his bed.”
From Abba’s Child by Brennan Manning
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Portrait of the Son
Years ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for art collecting. Together they traveled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and many others hung the walls of the family estate.
As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The father anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic.
Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness.
On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the man by saying, “I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you.”
As the two began to talk, the solider told of how his son talked about his love for his father and his father’s love of art.
“I’m an artist,” said the soldier, “and I want to give you this.” As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man’s son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man’s face in striking detail.
Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace.
During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy’s life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As he continued to hear stories of his sons compassion and bravery the painting of his son soon became his most prized possession.
The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation. With the collector’s passing and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas day, the day he had received his greatest gift. The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world’s most spectacular paintings.
The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum’s list. It was the painting of the man’s son.
The auctioneer asked for an opening bid. The room was silent. “Who will open the bidding with $1000?” he asked.
Minutes passed. No one spoke. From the back of the room came, “Who cares about that painting? It’s just a picture of his son. Let’s forget it and go on to the good stuff.” More voices echoed in agreement.
“No, we have to sell this one first,” replied the auctioneer. “Now, who will take the son?” How about for 100?
Still the room was quiet and the people began to get angry?
50 dollars will anyone pay fifty dollars for the son?
Silence.
Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. “Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That’s all I have. I knew the boy, so I’d like to have it.”
“I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?” called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, “Going once, going twice. Sold.” The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, “Now we can get on with it and we can bid on the real treasures!”
The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, “What do you mean it’s over? We didn’t come here for a picture of some old guy’s son What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars of art here! I demand that you explain what’s going on here!.”
The auctioneer replied, “It’s very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son..gets it all.”
As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The father anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic.
Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness.
On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the man by saying, “I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you.”
As the two began to talk, the solider told of how his son talked about his love for his father and his father’s love of art.
“I’m an artist,” said the soldier, “and I want to give you this.” As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man’s son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man’s face in striking detail.
Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace.
During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy’s life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn that his son had rescued dozens of wounded soldiers before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As he continued to hear stories of his sons compassion and bravery the painting of his son soon became his most prized possession.
The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation. With the collector’s passing and his only son dead, those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas day, the day he had received his greatest gift. The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world’s most spectacular paintings.
The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum’s list. It was the painting of the man’s son.
The auctioneer asked for an opening bid. The room was silent. “Who will open the bidding with $1000?” he asked.
Minutes passed. No one spoke. From the back of the room came, “Who cares about that painting? It’s just a picture of his son. Let’s forget it and go on to the good stuff.” More voices echoed in agreement.
“No, we have to sell this one first,” replied the auctioneer. “Now, who will take the son?” How about for 100?
Still the room was quiet and the people began to get angry?
50 dollars will anyone pay fifty dollars for the son?
Silence.
Finally, a friend of the old man spoke. “Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That’s all I have. I knew the boy, so I’d like to have it.”
“I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?” called the auctioneer. After more silence, the auctioneer said, “Going once, going twice. Sold.” The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, “Now we can get on with it and we can bid on the real treasures!”
The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced the auction was over. Stunned disbelief quieted the room. Someone spoke up and asked, “What do you mean it’s over? We didn’t come here for a picture of some old guy’s son What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars of art here! I demand that you explain what’s going on here!.”
The auctioneer replied, “It’s very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever takes the son..gets it all.”
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