JesusFreak727: As Iron Sharpens Iron

It was the night before my 18th birthday and I was sour. We were in Spokane, WA, at a youth conference, staying in the dorms of Gonzaga University. In ninety minutes I would be an adult man in the eyes of the law, freed from the court system, and yet somehow I was extremely frustrated about it all. So I went into the community room on the fifth floor and sat, alone, on a couch, staring out the window at the late night bustle in Spokane.

Soon, a few guys came and sat down next to me, my friends Cade, Martin and Hayden. I was silent, and they followed suit. For two hours we stared at the window in total silence. I don't remember who began the conversation, but someone got me talking about what was on my mind, and I spilled the frustration in my heart to them. About how turning 18 would make me exempt to child custody laws while my sister would be forced to go to our dad's alone for another five years. About how God takes so long all the time to bring about justice. About how I was ready to take matters into my own hands.

They all listened silently and patiently. When I was finished with my profanity-laced tirade, Hayden spoke up. "You need to remember that God takes His time, Jacob."
I know that.

"He's a crockpot God," he said quietly. "He's not a microwave God that we can put something in and get what we want in a matter of seconds. He is just, but sometimes He likes to move slow."

We talked for a few more minutes and I said my sullen good nights and Hayden and I headed back to our dorm room. That night we welcomed in my adulthood by talking until almost three in the morning, sobbing on the dorm floor and praising God for always welcoming us back into His open arms. I was filled with such a sense of gratitude for real friendship, for these young men that had stared at a wall for two hours just to be with me and pray.

We woke up around seven the next morning and our youth group started the trek over to St. Aloysius parish, for morning Mass at 8.

Mass was going along smoothly until the homily was about halfway over. I had tuned most of it out, considering we were functioning on four hours of sleep and an emotionally tiring night, until the priest suddenly said something about "the slow work of God." I tuned back into what he was saying because it sounded familiar to the discussion the night before.

"We need to trust in His slow work, well, because our God is special. He's like a crockpot God."
No way.

"He moves slowly and deliberately. And sometimes He likes to let us simmer a little bit."

My jaw dropped and I put a hand to my mouth. I looked at Hayden sitting on my left and he had the same reaction. We both started laughing and I thought for the first time in my life that I might need to step outside the church to get under control. People were looking at us with judgmental smirks but we didn't care. No one else had seen it and no one understood except the four guys that had sat in silence for two hours. We knew God being compared to a crockpot was an abnormal analogy. But twice in a span of twelve hours was pretty special, and it was just what we needed.

That story would be funny if it was a miracle that happened once in a lifetime and then it was over. But Hayden and I have seen God move like never before since we've been friends for the second time.

You see, Hayden Gorham and his family left for Maryland when we were friends in the second grade. We carpooled to religious ed on Tuesdays and I would get to their house thirty minutes early so we could play for a while before we had to leave for class.

Fast forward a couple months; we've both received our first communion and the Gorham brothers had begun telling me of plans to move to Maryland for their father's new job assignment. When they left, it was hard, but it was only going to be for two years and then they would most likely return, so I patiently waited.

Two years passed.

Then three. Four. Five. Six.

They had been gone for over seven years. I was now a 17-year old young man. I thought of the Gorham's once a week, when I drove past their street on the way to Sunday Mass. Every time I got this little sadness and shot a prayer heavenward for their family, wherever they may be. I had accepted that I would never see them again, but I knew they could still benefit from some long-distance prayer. Meanwhile, Hayden who was in Tennessee, was offering up prayers of his own.
Please, Lord, he prayed, give me another friend like Jacob.
Both of our prayers were answered. And the answers were yes.

I was sitting in Mass on a nice fall evening and saw a family sitting to my left. I looked closer and recognized Mrs. Gorham first. As my eyes followed down the line of men I started getting excited. I got a bounce in my step. Sung a little louder. And when Mass was over I hurried over to them and gave her a hug. I asked the boys if they remembered me. Hayden looked me right in the eye and nodded, a big smile spreading across his face.

*********

The Gorham's have been in the Tri-Cities for a year now, and its been one of the best years of my life, faith-wise. When Hayden and I get together, God is always present and crazy stuff happens. Our closeness began in early July in Klamath Falls, OR. Our small group from Holy Spirit was headed to San Francisco for a mission trip (read the post about it here) and we stayed at the Running Y Resort in Oregon. That night, Brian, Cade and I watched a few minutes of Thor and Hayden went out to the balcony to pray. When he came in, we all gathered in the living room.

"So, guys," I began. "It's time for real talk." And thus real talk was born.

"So, Jacob," said Brian a few minutes later, "How's your love life?" And thus our now-famous beginning sentence of real talk was born.

"Well, man, it's pretty rough these days. I still like this girl but she doesn't even know and with me discerning the seminary and everything we'll probably end up staying brother and sister." We went around and got the hoedown of each other's love lives. I noticed Hayden hadn't said much and so I opened the question to him. "Hayden, what about you?"

To my surprise, he started slowly and began opening up. He told us some of his prayers, desires, dreams, all with a peace about him that was contagious.

"Real Talk" became a regularity, often at four, five or six in the morning or past eleven at night.

One afternoon in August I was pretty down. My aforementioned love interest had moved off to college that morning and I felt as if the Lord just had me running in circles. In my time of sadness my friends reached out. They all told me I was in their prayers, to let them know if I needed to talk, etc. Brian told me I was coming over at six that night to talk so I said sure. And Hayden texted me at 2:45 asking what I was doing at the moment. I told him I'd gotten up and done some yard work and he replied this:

So he came over and we talked for a few minutes. He said he had the entire evening free and had told his parents he would be out till late. We went to Mass together that night (it was Saturday) and then headed to Brian's. It wasn't a good night to be cooped up, so all three of us left his house soon and went on a drive. With Hayden's direction we found our way up a big hill to a viewpoint overlooking the city and we parked. We stayed there talking and praying until 10:30 and then headed for home. And thus our tradition of going to a viewpoint to cry was born.

A few weeks later, after many return trips up there to cry and pray, we met at five and went up on a Sunday morning. This time we were prepared; we brought Bibles, an acoustic guitar and blankets. I laid down and Hayden started reading aloud from Paul's letter to Timothy. Soon slowing footsteps approached us. I leaned up and Hayden paused. We looked at our visitor: it was a middle-aged man dressed in white. He had been on a run.

"You guys praying?"

"Yes," we replied in unison.

"I figured you were either praying or smoking weed out here."

We chuckled. "Well, we're not smoking weed."

"What parish you guys from?" He was breathing heavy from his workout.

"Holy Spirit Catholic," Hayden replied.

"Can I pray over you guys?"

"Uh, yeah."
"Lord, thank you for these young men who are here to pray and learn about You. I ask that you would bless them and fill them with your Holy Spirit. Lord, make them warriors for you and show them how much you love them."

He finished and looked up for a second at us. "God bless you guys."

Then without waiting for a response or a thank you, he took off in the other direction to finish his morning run while we sat dumbfounded.

Hayden turned to me. "Duuuude, what just happened?!"

We burst out laughing in wonder of our God and the weird ways in which he works.

*********

It took me a while to get the message across, and you're probably not even reading this far right now, but the key point of everything I've said is best written in the words of the Proverbs: As iron sharpens iron, so man sharpens his fellow man. I feel sharpened by the friendship I have with Hayden. And the cool thing is that God is just beginning His work. There's a lot more to come, and I can't wait to see what else He has in store; even if He does move kind of slow.

Love people.

Jacob