One of my good friends who lived in America recently died , passed away, passed on. Several weeks after his son wrote and we exchanged words on his great ‘ teddy bear ‘ father. The son relayed that his father’s last words uttered were ‘ God is faithful ‘.
Faithful is a word yet its picture of steadfast allegiance is the reassurance that is so sadly missing in our world today. Faithful contains trust, trust in our leaders to do what they said they would do. To keep your word and come through is faithful. Parents faithful to the children they bring into the world, faithful to our partners.
The twist and turns of life challenge all of us in the ability to remain faithful to whatever. It is a lasting testimony and legacy to remain faithful. In the 91st Psalm , David tells us that God’s faithfulness to us is our shield of protection, yes not that simbiotic move , not our being faithful to Him with return but pure unconditional faithfulness to us. That grace and mercy extended to the often undeserved.
God is faithful and we see that often in times of waiting, trial and travail. Some of course don’t believe in God , yet they see and experience faithfulness in their lives. Where does that come from ? God shows His faithfulness through others that He brings into our lives and we have all seen that at times.
Faithful is a product of trust, it is the envelope of restoration, the cover of friendship and the healer with hope. My friend, my great friend passed uttering those words ‘ God is faithful’ because he had that blessed assurance and in that the purposeful peace. His final words on earth were spoken in recognition and final salute before entering that new eternal life promised by the one whose word does not return void.
qbitblogger 
Hello. Thank you for today’s blog. It’s been a long time since I felt moved to make a comment, but the dying words of your friend “God is Faithful” remain very resonant for me as this was a favourite saying of my mother. She had it inscribed on a wooden plaque that sat prominently on a shelf in our family home throughout my childhood and proclaimed the powerful belief that I was brought up on.
I was with my mother when she died, holding her hand as she breathed her final breath. She had been in a comma for several days following a severe stroke and my wife and I took it in turns to be with her day and night during that time.
I managed to find some of her favourite evangelical hymns online to play while I was with her. The list was constantly expanded through the algorithms and on the morning she passed it played ‘Nearer My God to Thee’ for the first time.
For me however, although I was able to respect and support my mother’s religious beliefs, I lost them following my baptism at fourteen. This was because I failed to experience anything on a personal level after what was considered to be the ultimate act of commitment and dedication according to the beliefs I was brought up on. And at the time I did feel strongly that it was me who had failed. This wasn’t a case of teenage rebellion or the rejection of faith on my part but a powerful experience of my faith having left me. Moreover, I was faced with the stark choice of faking my faith into the future or letting it go to allow room for something else to grow.
Fortunately I made the choice to let go as the first option felt fundamentally hypocritical. But it has been a long and difficult path which culminated when my mother chose to move into a care home close to where I live and I began to take her to a local evangelical church. This was a strange reversal of roles which led to an unexpected but powerful experience of redemption. My dear mother began our closer connection by frequently reminding me that I “must come back to the Lord.” But one Sunday morning at church with her by my side the usual service was extended to include holy communion which I declined while my mother shared. The minister was reminding us how we were all sinners who needed to ask God for forgiveness and my thought was that I needed to forgive my mother for forcing me into a belief before I could even talk. The next thought that occured to me was that I had already forgiven her without knowing it, and then I had the powerful realisation that she had given me her faith out of love because it was so true for her so there was actually nothing to forgive her for. Following this I felt a tremendous sense of relief, release and joy, together with an overwhelming urge to jump in the air with my arms above my head to shout out loud “I’m free . . . I’m free!”, which fortunately for the gathered congregation I refrained form doing.
Unfortunately my younger brother, who I was very close to in age and personality, was not so lucky. He had remained very angry with my mother, moved to Australia – as far away as he could get – and wasn’t able to speak to her on the phone for more that ten minutes before feeling overwhelmed with rage. I know this from our continued conversations over the years until three years ago when he turned this rage on himself and took his life. My older brother by five years has remained in the faith but found a different, less dogmatic version and we frequently converse on spiritual matters.
I write this rather long comment because I feel the need to demonstrate the damage that can be done, for the best of intentions and even out of love, by bringing a child up in a belief before he or she can make that choice for themselves. Dogmatic beliefs separate and devide people between, or even within religions eg Catholics/protestants Sunni/ Shia.
To return to my dearest mother, her strong faith was a real rock for her, but always led her to try and convert others of different persuasions rather than converse with them and find something they might have shared in common. For me and my brothers it was if we were converted before we could converse and this can be very damaging both individually and collectively.
I shall finish with two of my favourite aphorisms:
Troubles begin when we try to define the Devine.
And:
It’s not what we believe but how we behave that matters most.
Best wishes,
Andy Taylor
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