Scotch College

CONTINUING IN PRAYERChaplain’s Reflection

The recent tragic death of Nathan Francis has shocked us all.

We find our own lives scarred with sadness and can scarcely imagine how totally overwhelming the loss must be for Nathan’s family, at this grief’s epicentre. While our minds seek refuge in other things, good and necessary things, we know that for Brian, Jessica and Justin and their loving family circle, there is scant relief. We think about them often. We pray for them. We pray for all who mourn.

But what good is that? Hadn’t this chaplain prayed in the last assembly - the very day the boys left on bivouac – that they would enjoy the Easter break and return safely for the new term? Didn’t Nathan die on the day of the 12th Annual Prayer Breakfast? That very morning Bill Morgan, the oldest surviving School Captain, led in prayer for the welfare of the boys of the school, and all 170 of us echoed ‘Amen’!

I have been very conscious of all this; several people have explicitly mentioned the Prayer Breakfast and the tragic events of later the same day. ‘What good is prayer?’ is the implicit question.

For the atheist this question does not arise. Their alternative viewpoint is to suppose life is founded on randomness. The writer of Ecclesiastes observes that it appears that: ‘The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favour to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all.’ In view of this, one can do nothing but be careful and hope for better luck and a longer life.

This worldly wisdom presents tragedy as random misfortune, grist for the media news-grinders’ mill. The common response is evasion. Paul Simon’s lyrics express it beautifully ‘so I continue to continue to pretend/that my life will never end/and that flowers never bend/with the rainfall’. We typically seek diversion from the daunting reality of our mortality. However, the biblical writers move onto a different plane. Our Judeo-Christian heritage sheets the outcomes not to time and chance, but firmly with God. We cannot escape this.

We have seen it in the experience of Jesus and he taught that it is so. ‘Not a sparrow falls…’ how much more a child. Christians have discovered God to be both personal and loving, and though we cannot comprehend God or his purpose, we trust him. Peter said, when asked by Jesus if he too would leave on account of ‘hard teaching’: ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.’ (John 6:38). That eternal quality-of-life is found in a lived relationship with God.

This relationship is why we pray. Like our lives, our prayers, at such times as these, will be tortured and angst-ridden. The biblical Psalms catch this well. Life’s journey, with its sorrows, is a shared discourse with God. Prayer is not an insurance policy, and it doesn’t work by magic. Jesus was not spared, and we have no immunity either.

We are called to share the pain of losing Nathan. Which parent was not moved when, at Nathan’s funeral, his father related that he had accepted an invitation from Nathan a few days before the bivouac to play tennis after work? Love is of God. As we love and cherish our children we deepen the potential in our relationship with God.

We will never forget Nathan. In God’s name we will share his family’s grief. We will offer our love and support, and as we journey with them in our hearts, we will continue to pray for them.

Graham Bradbeer