Mason grumbled to himself as he drove to the men's prayer breakfast. He hit the steering wheel and cursed, "All such a big bait and switch." His wife was still asleep when he left, and probably still would be when he got home. She had been sleeping till noon lately. Lazy was the word going through his head. And she had gotten in the habit of wearing frumpy clothes and hadn't done much with makeup, and always felt 'icky,’ at least for the past six months or so. He had tried to tell her multiple times they made her look bad and in his mind it would only take a little bit of effort on her part to not embarrass them around folks when they went out, that is when she felt well enough to do so. Well, he didn't actually tell her he was embarrassed but pretty much everything else. And he was thinking about it. Maybe then she'd try harder.
Maybe these men from his church would have some advice. He pulled up to the house. It was big and beautiful. The other men's shiny silver and black SUVs were parked around the street in the cul-de-sac, stickers of their prestigious alma maters on the backs. These men were serious movers and shakers. One was a movie producer, another ran a financial planning firm. One was even a fairly famous musician. Mason was flattered that they had invited him, a lowly accountant from a non-profit.
"Mason! Welcome to my house, brother." Oh yeah, and today's host had been a NFL football player. Ronald was a built, bald black fella and he wore a neatly pressed button up shirt and khakis. "Let's get you acquainted with this place and these guys." Ronald showed Mason around and Mason shook hands with a few of the guys, just trying not to make a fool of himself. When they walked past a door on the main floor that was slightly cracked he told Mason, "My wife was diagnosed with Parkinson's last year, but likes to be part of the action. Can I introduce you?"
Mason nodded. Ronald cracked the door and Mason saw a woman whose face was pale and waxy and had her hair pulled back with the exact same yellow hair band that Mason's wife had been using a lot lately. Suddenly her face lit up and the sweetest joy shone from her as she leaned to shake Mason's hand.
"Do you remember Mason from our Philippians class, my Dear?" Ronald's smile was so kind to her. "I do remember you, Mason. Welcome to our house." She smiled sincerely back at her husband. Their exchange was so much different than Mason and his wife, which was one of... well, competition and proving which one of them was making this marriage difficult.
Mason was lost deep in his head through the rest of the greetings and even as they sat down in the bright living room with plates of pastries and coffees. One of the fellas shouted to Ronald, "It ain't as good as your wife’s, but these pastries aren't bad, Maestro."
They prayed, and began. Their protocol was to go around the circle and catch each other up on what they needed prayer for. There was a strange theme Mason noticed: these men felt very little concern for what they were getting out of life, and far more concern for helping those in their lives that were struggling. The fella before Mason told a story of how his girlfriend's family had a lot of alcoholism they were having to deal with and how he had spent three days this week just helping her brother who had gone to the hospital for a drug overdose.
Mason was blown away. This guy and his girlfriend weren't even married and he was caring that much for her and her family. Taking time away from his veterinarian practice. His prayer was for the family and the brother. There was not even a hint of his frustration with her or what burden she brought to the relationship.
"Alright, Mason. You got anything for us? What can we pray for you, brother?" It was suddenly his turn. His face got hot. He stuttered. "I--I--" He looked around. All the guys were looking at him, though very compassionately. "I'm just so impressed at how well you care for others in your life. I admire ya'll a lot and I was just..." He paused, feeling like his ugly selfish uncompassionate motives would be shone bare in such stark light of these men's lives. He noticed the sunlight from the big window somehow seemed to be spotlighting him. "I was," He swallowed, "I couldn't get out of my head on the way here. I was just complaining about stuff my wife is struggling with and how... it's making my life so much harder and more frustrating. I--" He glanced at the door, planning his quick exit afterwards. "You guys are really, really great. I'll just pass. No requests for me. I'd rather just observe."
Mason looked down, grateful it was another's turn. He had been shown less worthy and just wanted to disappear so others would forget him. Then he felt two big hands rest lightly on his shoulders. And the deep voice of Ronald had come up behind him. "Mason, we are so glad you are here. And you are in good company my friend. I see a contrite heart within you, and that is the start of greatness in our father's kingdom. Can we pray for you, my friend?"
The others were nodding, fully seeing Mason and his feeling of unworthiness, but instead of discounting or forgetting him, they felt overwhelming compassion for a humbled man. Mason simply nodded in response to Ronald's question. Ronald began to pray for him, the beautiful humility he saw within Mason, and for Mason’s wife's struggles. And as he prayed, one by one many of the other men got up from their seats and placed their hands on his arms or hands or shoulders and whispered prayers.
One moment in the prayer as he realized what was happening, Mason was struck with extreme embarrassment. He opened his eyes to glance, like a scared gazelle, toward the door again. But what he saw was these men kneeling around him, looks of gratitude, acceptance and love on their praying faces. The eyes of the cool movie producer were moist and looking straight into Mason's face, with a kind and hidden smile as if he saw what was going on inside of Mason. He gave a little squeeze of Mason's knee, winked and just held his gaze. He prayed next, even holding Mason's gaze as he did it. "God, we love our brother Mason already and we are excited to see the story you are working out in his heart. Take hold of the humble heart of our brother, and fill it with our love, and then your limitless love, so that he can give more love to his lovely wife and everyone around him."
The prayer for Mason went on for ten minutes.
---
As Mason drove home, he felt markedly different, relaxed and content.
He stopped off at Starbucks and ordered his wife's favorite drink. When he got home he sat on the side of the bed and stroked her hair until she woke up. He handed her her drink as she propped herself up. She offered a careful smile to him as she sipped it. A moment later she said, staring at the covers, I think I need to go to my doctor today. Something doesn't feel right.
"Okay.” He paused. “Would you like me... to go with you?"
She looked up at him. "Don't you have work and your stocks trading and stuff?"
"Um, that's there, but I remembered this morning that you are far more important."
She discerned his unfamiliar words, questioningly. He held her gaze. Until he relented. He looked down and said, "Hunny..." he struggled with the words, "I have been the opposite of supportive. I've been... um... probably holding you down, even though you've been telling me you haven't been feeling well. I'm really sorry."
She looked at him skeptically. "Okay... thank you. The doctor might take a while today."
"Would you feel supported if I went."
"Will you criticize me?"
He bit his lips, saddened at his previous actions, and said, "I see that I was doing that now. I'm really sorry. I'll go if you want me there."
She nodded.
---
Sitting in the waiting room, they sat side by side silently. He was doing his best to reproduce the safety and love he had seen Ronald do with his sick wife. Really, of everyone he had met that morning. Being before them had revealed his heart and had given him a contagious vision of a better way.
Then she did something she hadn't done in six months. She reached and took his hand. He squeezed it and rubbed it with his thumb. They sat in silence. This seemed like the first glimpse of the type of marriage he now wanted to have.
---
I was angry at my wife for petty things that felt like they were putting me out, being much more concerned about my own wellbeing than hers. And I read in 1 Corinthians how God will bring all things into the light. And I pictured what it would be like to be in God's presence and see how impure my thoughts were compared to what God calls us to be.
What resentments do you carry that, if you spoke them around the men in the story above, would be shone as shallow and worthy of letting go in exchange for a more grace-filled, compassionate reality?
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