By Jeff Watson
THE ERICKSON TRIBUNE

According to Kierkegaard: “Life must be lived forward, but can only be understood backward.” He makes me wonder what my life will look like, gazing over my shoulder from the finish line. What will it look like to me? To others? To God?

Cleland McAfee could not have known what his life would look like from the  outset. Born in Ashley, Mo., one year after the stillness of Appomattox,  McAfee was destined for a simple kind of fame.

His family might have guessed that Cleland’s prominence would emerge from his education at McCormick Theological Seminary in Chicago or from his  writings. Among those who heard him speak, all bets would have been on his eloquence.

But God had a different plan.

Diphtheria’s reach
In 1901 Cleland McAfee received the news that diphtheria had stolen his two beloved nieces. For a man of words, McAfee was speechless.

The grimaced uncle set out to find his brother, Howard. Struggling for rational thoughts, the mourning professor heard the words of the Apostle James whispering in his soul: “Come near to God and God will come near to you.”

On that slow, sad ride across Chicago, McAfee’s forehead never unwrinkled: “I…could not say that we understood what had happened,” his biography reports. “We cannot understand the mind of God…but we can understand God’s heart. We can trust God’s love…if we stay near to the heart of God.”

As if this gloomy man were eavesdropping, he connected with God’s sentiment for the Weeping Prophet: “I know the plans I have for you…plans…not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future…You will…find me when you seek me with all your heart.”

Clerics know that clichés set people’s teeth on edge in the face of sorrow. He could have agreed with C. S. Lewis: “Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall  suspect that you don’t understand.”