Brother George

Kat and I went for the ‘people helper’ course yesterday and Rev. David gave a lecture on handling stress. However, I will always remember yesterday’s session for a testimony that one of the church members shared on how he handled a stressful situation. He was an old man, and looked to be in his sixties. Pastor called him Brother George. He spoke in a raspy voice, and we found it really difficult to try to understand what he was saying, but what I was able to hear and understand filled me with admiration for him. We learnt that he spoke in this manner because he had cancer, and the ravages of the disease have left him with damaged vocal chords. I cannot remember his exact words, but I can remember the firm and strong way in which he spoke, as if he really believed every word he said. It went something like this:

When the doctor told me that I had cancer, and that I may not have much time to live, my son was about to go to Australia to further his studies. I knew it would affect him, so I knew that we had to work this out as a family. The first thing we did was to think about the worst case scenario. What will be the worst thing that could happen? I will die. But everyone dies. It’s just a matter of when. So it is not an issue. It’s not your problem. It’s not my problem. It’s God’s problem. It’s not an issue. Next will be my son. If I die, he will have more money than if I am alive. I have life insurance. So, it is not an issue as well. Thirdly is my wife. She can always find another boyfriend (We could see he was joking here, and we all laughed). So it is not an issue as well. So what should we do? I believed I needed to fight. And I needed my family to fight with me. We will pray, find the best doctor, and find a cure. I told my wife: I need to fight. And I need you to fight with me. If every time I see you, you cry, it makes me cry too, and I become weak. Please, I need you to be strong. Then I can be strong too. We can fight it together.

15 years down the road, by God’s grace, Brother George lives on and fights on. What a wonderful testimony. But what touched me most was not that God extended his life, surprising even his doctors. It was his inner strength, his courage, and most of all his faith. I wonder if I will be able to handle it this well in such adversity. It’s not about being afraid to die. It’s about the people I leave behind. How will they take it; my parents; Agnes? Colin shared about similar sentiments the other day over dinner. Annette was right though, when she asked this question: Don’t you think that God can take care of them?