A dear friend has buried 4 family members in the past 6 months. Another friend just buried his twenty year old son, a handsome young college student who loved the Lord. A precious young mother delivered a beautiful baby boy one day and buried him the next. Why, God? Why do these horrible things happen?
Like many Christians searching for answers, I turned to the book of Job shortly after Allison was diagnosed with leukemia. I was determined to find some explanation, some great reason, some purpose, some meaning for all the tears, all the pain. When God finally appeared and spoke to Job in chapter 38, I read each word carefully, desperate for answers. God is right in front of Job, speaking to him; surely now he will confront Him with his questions. . .but Job's words are simply, "My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. Therefore, I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes." (Job 42:5-6)
No explanation, but there was an answer: "Be still and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10)
And there were blessings for a man who dared to be angry with God for the hard times life had given him, and rebukes for the self-righteous friends who presumed it was their place to explain the mind and the actions of God. Many years ago, I heard James Dobson tell a young girl with cystic fibrosis that he wished he could tell her why she was suffering. I screamed at the radio, No! This child's suffering must be too big for even you to understand, Dr. Dobson! I don't want anyone less than the God of the universe to understand why my child suffered and died. And, like Job, when I stand before Him, the question, "Why?", will be the farthest thing from my mind.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
The Beginning, Part 3
Within an hour of her admittance to Vanderbilt, Allison was sent to ICU where she was intubated and I was ushered into the waiting area. I still felt confident that this was just going to be another difficult, sleepless, stressful time, but that we would soon be home again. I called my friend, Ginny, from the waiting room phone, and she assured me that she would care for Bethany as long as necessary. She asked if I wanted her to call anyone for me, and I told her that we appreciated prayers, but that I was okay and didn't want anyone to make that long drive to Nashville on a Thursday night.
The rest of the night is a little fuzzy in my mind. I remember the phone on the wall started ringing. Someone answered it and then called out my name. Surprised, I took the phone and started talking to our rear detachment commander, offering his help and support. The phone kept ringing, each time for me. . .Fort Campbell people expressing their prayers and concern, seeking ways to help. Each time, I assured them that we were okay. A short time later, our off-post pastor, Rev. Walker, walked into the room. He sat with me, and we talked and prayed. About midnight, the nurse came in to tell us that Allison's blood pressure had dropped, and she was having some complications that required her to stay in ICU for the night. Anticipating a very long night, I encouraged Rev. Walker to go home, but he told me firmly that he was going to stay. Over the next hour, Allison's two special oncology nurses arrived as well as four more friends from Fort Campbell - my dear friend, Reva; our installation chaplain and his wife, and the Fort Campbell hospital chaplain. Again, I was stunned that people were coming to be with me! I hadn't asked anyone to come! The nurses found us a private waiting room, and they became blessed messengers for us, traveling in and out of ICU with bits of news and hope. About 4:30, we were told that Allison was stable! We were rejoicing at the thought of "joy in the morning", and said good-bye to one of the nurses and the oncologist. Just thirty minutes later, the other oncology nurse, Ann, rushed in to tell me that she had taken another turn for the worse. I'm not sure why, but I quietly told her that if Allison was dying, I needed to be in there with her. Unbelieving, I stood in the hall as Ann ran into the ICU. . .seconds later, she was running back to me, telling me that if I wanted to be with her when she died, I needed to come now. I almost fell to the floor with the shock, but Ann grabbed me and she and another nurse supported me as we rushed into ICU. Nothing could possibly have prepared me for what I saw. . . my beautiful little girl was bloated, cold, and unmoving. Air was being forced into her little lungs and compressions were rhythmically moving her chest. I pleaded with them to keep trying, don't give up. . .I reminded Allison that her favorite waffles were in the freezer at home waiting for her. . .keep breathing. . .keep living. . . please don't stop. On October 26, 1990, Friday morning at 5:00, my Allison died.
The rest of the night is a little fuzzy in my mind. I remember the phone on the wall started ringing. Someone answered it and then called out my name. Surprised, I took the phone and started talking to our rear detachment commander, offering his help and support. The phone kept ringing, each time for me. . .Fort Campbell people expressing their prayers and concern, seeking ways to help. Each time, I assured them that we were okay. A short time later, our off-post pastor, Rev. Walker, walked into the room. He sat with me, and we talked and prayed. About midnight, the nurse came in to tell us that Allison's blood pressure had dropped, and she was having some complications that required her to stay in ICU for the night. Anticipating a very long night, I encouraged Rev. Walker to go home, but he told me firmly that he was going to stay. Over the next hour, Allison's two special oncology nurses arrived as well as four more friends from Fort Campbell - my dear friend, Reva; our installation chaplain and his wife, and the Fort Campbell hospital chaplain. Again, I was stunned that people were coming to be with me! I hadn't asked anyone to come! The nurses found us a private waiting room, and they became blessed messengers for us, traveling in and out of ICU with bits of news and hope. About 4:30, we were told that Allison was stable! We were rejoicing at the thought of "joy in the morning", and said good-bye to one of the nurses and the oncologist. Just thirty minutes later, the other oncology nurse, Ann, rushed in to tell me that she had taken another turn for the worse. I'm not sure why, but I quietly told her that if Allison was dying, I needed to be in there with her. Unbelieving, I stood in the hall as Ann ran into the ICU. . .seconds later, she was running back to me, telling me that if I wanted to be with her when she died, I needed to come now. I almost fell to the floor with the shock, but Ann grabbed me and she and another nurse supported me as we rushed into ICU. Nothing could possibly have prepared me for what I saw. . . my beautiful little girl was bloated, cold, and unmoving. Air was being forced into her little lungs and compressions were rhythmically moving her chest. I pleaded with them to keep trying, don't give up. . .I reminded Allison that her favorite waffles were in the freezer at home waiting for her. . .keep breathing. . .keep living. . . please don't stop. On October 26, 1990, Friday morning at 5:00, my Allison died.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Easter Reflections
"A man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." Isaiah 53:3
Jesus said to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. . .If it is possible, let this cup of suffering be taken away from me." Matthew 26:38-39
Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Matthew 27:46
In the days and weeks following Allison's death, I felt abandoned by God. I prayed, screamed, cried out, but heard nothing in return. C.S. Lewis expressed that same feeling in A Grief Observed: "Where is God? When you are happy . . .and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be, or so it feels, welcomed with open arms. But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face. . .Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble?"
As the months and years passed, though, I began to realize that my wounded heart had gone into a spiritual hibernation. In the same way that a wounded animal can awake from hibernation healed, my heart began once again to sense the love and presence of God. Four years after Allison died, I wrote the following in my journal: " Thank you, Lord, for feeding me. You've been my sustenance for the last few years, but now you're drawing me out of this dark hibernation. And, it's time to start eating and growing again. Thank you for being my 'bread of life'."
Jesus, too, pleaded with God to take away the pain and suffering. I can't begin to imagine the magnitude of His pain, but, since we know the 'rest of the story', we know that God never truly abandoned Him, but was accomplishing His purpose for the salvation of the world. What a precious example! When I feel alone or forsaken by God, it's okay to scream and cry out to Him, to feel all the horrible feelings that come with grief and loss, and yet know, as time passes, that He is always there.
Jesus said to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. . .If it is possible, let this cup of suffering be taken away from me." Matthew 26:38-39
Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Matthew 27:46
In the days and weeks following Allison's death, I felt abandoned by God. I prayed, screamed, cried out, but heard nothing in return. C.S. Lewis expressed that same feeling in A Grief Observed: "Where is God? When you are happy . . .and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be, or so it feels, welcomed with open arms. But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face. . .Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble?"
As the months and years passed, though, I began to realize that my wounded heart had gone into a spiritual hibernation. In the same way that a wounded animal can awake from hibernation healed, my heart began once again to sense the love and presence of God. Four years after Allison died, I wrote the following in my journal: " Thank you, Lord, for feeding me. You've been my sustenance for the last few years, but now you're drawing me out of this dark hibernation. And, it's time to start eating and growing again. Thank you for being my 'bread of life'."
Jesus, too, pleaded with God to take away the pain and suffering. I can't begin to imagine the magnitude of His pain, but, since we know the 'rest of the story', we know that God never truly abandoned Him, but was accomplishing His purpose for the salvation of the world. What a precious example! When I feel alone or forsaken by God, it's okay to scream and cry out to Him, to feel all the horrible feelings that come with grief and loss, and yet know, as time passes, that He is always there.
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