The God Who Sees and Wants to be Seen
After I was diagnosed with cancer January 5, 2022, I posted a request for prayers on my Facebook page to my 5,000 FB friends. For years, I have prayed through a long prayer list kept on my computer, asking God to bless specific people with all kinds of needs, some of whom I didn’t know personally, along with their families and all who were impacted by their situation. I believe that simply the mention of their names and problems to God makes a difference. On the days when doing this seems a bit laborious, after having finished my personal prayer times, I always had this thought: one day I am going to be in a serious situation in which I am going to want my name brought before God’s throne by as many as possible. With that motivation, I always get past my selfishness and respond to the Golden Rule of Jesus and pray through my list.
That “one day” became Wednesday, January 5th. The response to my request has been overwhelming. I can’t stop crying right now as I write this. God has been kind beyond comprehension in giving me so many friends. At my age, most of them are as my spiritual children. They care deeply and want to help, just like my physical son and his family. Bryan and Joy asked us to move close to them, for two reasons. One, to enjoy their three sons as kids more, since they had lived in Hawaii for 25 years and the boys were fast approaching adulthood. When we moved to Dallas at the end of 2014, a mile from where they now live, Bryce (Bryce Gordon, by the way) was in high school, Blayze was in middle school and Ronan was in elementary school. Watching them grow into men has been indeed special.
Two, they wanted to help take care of us as age takes its toll on us, which it inevitably does. Bryan has the heart of a natural caretaker, as does Joy, who is also a nurse. Although we haven’t yet needed much help from them yet, they still look for opportunities to give it. We are ever so thankful that our son and daughter by marriage (daughter-in-law doesn’t work for us) wanted us close by. It has been very special. Right now, God has seen fit to bless us with many who share that same heart for us, and it is very humbling and wonderful beyond words. The scope of our blessings far surpasses anything we deserve, especially me, which speaks volumes about God and the impact of Jesus upon the lives of those whom he has brought into our lives.
Into a Writer’s Mind
I do a lot of prayer journaling. As a writer, I can express my feelings better through typing than through speaking or writing with pen and paper. On most days, I don’t save what I write. It is very personal and not something I would want others to read, for a number of reasons. You understand that I imagine. Because of the wild emotional and spiritual roller coaster ride that started on January 5th, with its unexpected twists and turns, I knew instinctively that I needed to save what I wrote. In this case, I wanted to keep a record of the events and my prayers in response to those events. I thought of titles for two different books in the process, in which to include what I was writing as a framework for them at some future point.
Some of what I wrote in this present long account will probably end up a part of at least one book, but that isn’t why I wrote it. I wrote it because I felt compelled to record what God was doing in my life, the insights I was gaining and the spiritual growth I was experiencing. I was unburdening my heart and having my heart filled by God at the very same time. It has been a life-changing journey thus far. On February 7th, which happened to fall on the 19th birthday of our fourth grandson, Cody, who lives in Arizona, I received the results of two scans and a key blood test. No cancer. (As you will later see, this diagnosis was soon revised to “not much cancer,” not a welcome development, but one in which I must trust that God has his reasons. The continuing story is found in Part Two of this article.)
As I mentioned in a FB post a day later, that report put me in shock. I did have the faith as I prayed beforehand that it was not only possible that God might heal me, but probable. Prayers offered by so many people all over the world simply had to make a difference. That said, it was still a shock. After sharing the details with Theresa about it all, putting her in shock with me, I went on a long prayer walk. At one point along the way, and I remember exactly where I was at the time, a thought hit me that caused me to burst into tears. It was not produced by a sense of relief that I didn’t have cancer, although I was understandably very, very relieved. It wasn’t caused by a heightened feeling of gratitude, although I was filled with gratitude.
That overwhelming thought was the realization of how much the past month had changed me spiritually. I told God that I would not eliminate a single thing in that wild and scary ride or change it in any way. I told him that I would rather have the cancer back than lose what I had gained spiritually. And I meant every word of it. I still mean it. Being in my 80th year of life means that I am nearing my end anyway. When that comes, I won’t feel any differently than I do now about life and death. The real me, the part made in God’s image, doesn’t age. Only the body ages and passes away. Plus, time goes by fast. I will be on death’s door soon enough. Staying alive on planet earth isn’t the big issue or anywhere close to it. Staying close to God and falling more and more in love with him is the big issue. Actually, it’s about the only issue.
Enter the Big “C” Word
Cancer. That’s a really scary word to most people. I remember being with my dad when the doctor told him he had cancer. Hearing it almost took my breath away. Daddy and I were really close. He lived another six years, but that word always hung in the air when I was with him. It was a tough six years for him and for those who watched him endure treatments and surgeries. In June of last year, I had my third rectal surgery. The pathology reports began as indecisive but later progressed to a diagnosis of adenocarcinoma. At the initial indecisive stage, the surgeon said that she needed to go back in and get a deeper sample, and she would get the best margins she could in an attempt to get all of the cancer if it were cancer. Oddly perhaps, hearing that wasn’t scary to me at the time. I simply told the doctor that we all have a shelf life, and I was almost 79 at the time and had lived a very blessed life. I always think of the old version of Psalm 90:10, “The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.” After that surgery ten days later, the pathology report came back clear.
She wanted to see me again every few months to remove tissue in her office for continuing tests. It was after the second of those on December 29th that led to the call on January 5th saying that I did have adenocarcinoma and would need to start treatment by oncologists. She was pretty positive about radiation being able to cure it and was going to have an oncology service contact me for an appointment. At that point, I was amazingly calm and at peace. Surrendered. I slept like a baby that night. A part of that peace was my “impossible” prayer list those in my church were encouraged to write in conjunction with reading Kit Cummings’ book, “Forty Days of Prayer.” The first item on my list was to not have cancer, but that if I did, that it would be God’s way of exposing it early so it could be treated successfully. The second item on that prayer list started with the words, “More importantly,” followed by a request that no matter what happened with the cancer, up to and including a terminal stage of it, that I would trust God and his timing implicitly and unquestionably. So, in any case, my prayers were being answered and I was at peace, a truly wonderful feeling, that peace that surpasses human understanding described in Philippians 4:7.
That peace lasted just over twenty-four hours and was beautiful while it lasted. However, that was soon to change and change radically. I decided to call Mark Mancini, a fellow minister and longtime friend, the next afternoon just to find out how the radiation affects you. He did cover that, for his surgery had failed to remove all of the margins of his cancer, thus necessitating the radiation treatment. His situation reminded me of my father’s surgery that ultimately led to his death, a result of the surgeon not removing all of the margins, leaving cancer where it shouldn’t have been. I couldn’t help wondering if that might be true in my own case as well, an unsettling thought. But back to the unexpected direction in my conversation with Mark. His main emphasis was his absolute insistence that I contact the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center for a second opinion. To say that he was pushy would be to make an understatement. He wouldn’t let up on that one, which left me very disturbed at the end of the call. I felt like I got robbed of my surrendered sense of peace. I was very troubled and unsettled. I was actually ticked off at Mark, a dear friend.
The question that came to mind at this point is the one that has come up hundreds of times when circumstances seem difficult or impossible to interpret. Was this just another test of my surrender, since I was definitely surrendered prior to the call, or was this a circumstance designed by God to lead me in another direction? I believe God has sent both my way hundreds of times. I hate the feeling that my wisdom, human wisdom, is in the driver’s seat and it’s up to me to make the right choices in serious situations. I just despise the idea, a popular one with many people (especially the driven, successful types), that “If it is to be, it is up to me.” No, no, no – not that! I want it to be, “If it is to be, it must be up to Thee.” But there I was, caught between two choices in interpreting the talk with Mark – a test of surrender or a circumstance designed to lead me in another direction, a needed one. Oh no! Not again!
The Wrestling Match Continues
Like Jacob of old (Genesis 32), I was wrestling with God, but not fully realizing it yet. For the next several days, I was up and down and all around. Fortunately, those days were very busy ones, occupying my mind (mostly) with other things. Theresa had two doctor appointments the next day and I had to prepare to deliver a lesson on Zoom the next day, Saturday, for a conference in London. Thankfully, my lesson went well in spite of the disturbance in the force (a la Star Wars). Those events were helpful just as distractions if nothing else. I watched lots of football that weekend, an NFL playoff weekend, providing more distraction for which I was grateful. But underneath the surface, I remained filled with angst. On Tuesday morning, I had a virtual appointment with the oncology radiologist, which generally went well. The proposed treatment sounded about like I expected, and the doctor seemed nice enough and competent enough, answering all my questions well. There was just a hint of arrogance on his part that made me a bit nervous (God opposes the proud – James 4:6). Otherwise, it was good.
I think it may have been the next morning that I woke up with the memory of what a perky, petite redheaded doctor had said in reply to a question I asked her years ago after she had just performed a sigmoidoscopy on me. My curiosity about what would motivate a doctor to pursue a specialty in dealing with this part of the body led me to ask, “Why would a doctor go into this line of work?” A few years earlier, I had asked this same question to another doctor in a similar circumstance, also a female physician, and it flustered her. She just said, “That’s a good question” and left the room (and didn’t come back).
The little redhead, whose husband was the head of that department, wasn’t flustered in the least. “Easy answer,” said she. “If you catch this kind of cancer early, you get it every time!” Out of the clear blue that memory appeared. I thought of John 14:26 where Jesus promised the apostles that the Holy Spirit would bring things to their remembrance. I know that this was a promise to them of the Spirit doing it in a miraculous inspired sense, but I have long believed that for all of the miraculous gifts of the Spirit, there are non-miraculous counterparts. So, in my mind, I had such a blessing that early morning to ease my mind. It was a special beginning to the day, a needed one.
That Fateful Thursday
On Wednesday, one week after my talk with Mark, I called Mike Isenberg, my friend in church who is a PA (physician assistant). He listened carefully and said that continuity with my present doctors was important if I trusted them and that he thought either place could do the needed job. He did say that UT Southwestern was a great place, but that he didn’t think I could make a wrong decision either way. In other words, both would be competent to do the job well. That was reassuring, as Mike always is, and tilted me back toward feeling good about staying the original course. I even told my sister on the phone that I was almost certainly going to do that and quit being torn between the two. I felt much more settled out. The only question in the back of my mind was prompted by some underlying feelings about my surgeon. While I liked her and mostly trusted her, the confusion about the first pathology report and the failure to take out a little lump that I could feel myself and had told her about several times stayed in the back of my mind. However, I was pretty much settled out about my present fairly firm decision and still a little ticked off at Mark’s pushiness.
Since the next day was nice day outside and I hadn’t walked for a while due to the residual pain after my last tissue removal for pathology, I decided to take a walk. My wound was mostly healed by then, thankfully. As I walked out of the house, I saw my neighbors pull up and start getting out of their car. We have a little cottage in East Texas across the street from a lake and they live on the lake. Robin isn’t out in the front yard nearly as often as Harry and knowing that she had been through cancer treatment recently, I wanted to show her a calm, faithful reaction to having cancer to encourage her. So, we talked. I found out that she had radiation for her breast cancer that put it in remission or eliminated it. Then I had to ask, “Where did you get your treatment?” Of course it was UT Southwestern – of course it was! And like Mark, she gushed about doing research and UT SW being the cat’s meow. She wasn’t as pushy as Mark, but just as gushy. Okay, unsettledness again. Ugh! The big question popped into my mind once more: test of surrender or circumstantial guidance of the Holy Spirit? Aaaggghhh!!!
Then I continued my walk. Danny and Jynae, neighbors opposite our garage, were out in their yard talking over some construction plans they had for their house. I’ve probably not said ten words to Jynae before, and her being out in the front yard was rare. Those on the lake usually hang out in their back yards for obvious reasons, but there they both were. They asked how I was doing, and in my reply, I included the cancer diagnosis and upcoming radiation treatment. Danny said that they had a good friend who just finished with that type of treatment. Keep in mind that I’m talking to people out in the countryside nearly 100 miles from that medical center.
Where their friend lived, I had no idea. They could have lived anywhere in the world. But of course I had to ask the question, right? Of course. When I did, Jynae answered, since it was her female friend who had been treated. By now you can easily guess the answer. UT Southwestern, followed by more glowing reports of this place being the best of the best, with people coming from all over to go there for cancer treatment. Amazing, simply amazing! Where were the odds of this being mere circumstance – both women being out in their front yards on the same day at the same time – in the winter at that? I’d never seen it before. With both women having the same story about UT Southwestern too?
I See You Now, God
Okay, give-up time, God. I’ll seriously start looking into the option of getting a second opinion. I began calling that afternoon, but that wasn’t a good initial experience. I pushed my phone key #1 two different times, the option for new patients, and the woman who answered sounded muffled and not nearly on top of her game. Disappointing. Nothing like Mark and Robin had described. I was in a bad place emotionally, to put it mildly, although I didn’t show it to avoid unsettling my dear wife. I didn’t sleep well that night and felt drained when I woke up the next morning. Otherwise, the morning went okay. I had the virtual appointment with the medical oncologist, the chemo doctor. She was very pleasant and explained things well and answered my questions thoroughly. But the amount of chemo she described was disturbing. The one positive thing that the call did accomplish was that I was even more motivated to get a second opinion. I did not like the sound of the treatment described and wanted that second opinion.
That same morning as we started heading back to Dallas and Theresa’s two medical appointments, I called UT Southwestern once more, pushing the #1 button for new patients. The same woman answered and still sounded muffled, so I pulled off the road in an effort to try understanding what she was saying. It was frustrating and I got nowhere. Not good. I dropped Theresa off at the medical facility for her appointment and tried to take a nap in the car. I was too geared up to sleep. I called UT Southwestern again, either in the parking lot or right after arriving home, intending to apologize for being a pest but just wanting to see if I had done all I could to push the process forward. I simply could not get through. The woman or the system finally just hung up on me. Aaaggghhh! Again! But by then I was determined to try once more, and this time I pushed the button for “existing patients.” When a woman answered, whose name I found out to be Rosie, I explained that I wasn’t an existing patient but was trying hard to become one and was hitting roadblocks. She was the type person Mark and Robin described – precisely. She was super nice and super helpful. I had the thought that she might be an angel. Seriously. She was that good. From there we got the balls rolling in several directions.
She fairy quickly said that she knew exactly which doctor I should see and if everything fell into place, she might be able to schedule me on Wednesday (five days later). Timing meant a lot to me. If cancer metastasizes, it has to begin at a certain point in time, right? That seems logical. Ahh! Good news, finally. After finding out the referrals and reports they required, I started doing my part. It was Friday afternoon and their admitting department was about to close for a long weekend, since MLK Day was on Monday. But Rosie assured me that if I could get everything in by early Tuesday morning, she would make it happen for that Wednesday appointment. Getting in to see specialists just doesn’t happen that way, and I speak from experience. It was almost too good to be true and thus difficult to trust what I had been told.
However, I was set on doing my part as best I could. They wanted reports and referrals from both my surgeon and my primary care physician. I sent written messages through the internet portals of both. I made phone calls and left voicemails, including one to the nurse of my primary care doctor and another to their remote emergency nurse. Then I thought of pushing the button for contacts from doctors or hospitals. When a live person answered that line, I told her that I was calling on behalf of the Simmons Cancer Center at UT Southwestern (sorta true). I explained what was going on and she said she would send it over, hopefully that same afternoon (late Friday afternoon).
The pieces all seem to be falling into place, good places. So far so good, although gut-wrenching at times. Just about then, it hit me that the answer to the question of whether the situation was surrender being tested or the Spirit leading me in another direction was both/and, not either/or. I looked up and said, “Good one, Lord. I hope you are enjoying this. I’m starting to. You are doing your thing again, jumping out from behind bushes to scare the liver out of me. Okay. I’ve still got a sense of humor and an appreciation of yours. We’re good for now. More to come, I’m sure.” I often talk to God, not just pray to him. Friends do that, right? (John 15:15)
Where is the Peace?
I was at that point thinking about what was keeping me from being surrendered and at peace again. God knows how much I love being there when I do get there. It is the greatest feeling on his green earth – an at-oneness with him that has no superiors. But I hadn’t had it recently, although by that Saturday, I got back close to it. I think my problem was that until I got the UT SW appointment nailed down completely, I couldn’t relax enough to be totally at peace. That realization disturbed me. Complete trust in a God who works everything together for good (Romans 8:28) should have produced peace in me. I’m slow to learn, no questioning that, thus slow to trust.
When will I ever learn that God will take care of the details if I will simply just let go and let God? Ferguson, you wrote a book on this. Why in the name of common sense don’t you listen to your better self? Goodness gracious! Trust is the issue. The call to Mark set me on my ear. But then the sequence afterwards should have put me in a good place, right? I made out a list of what God had done since that fateful call to Mark, a list of what should have stopped me from being untrusting and stupid. What’s the matter with you anyway, Gordon? Why don’t you stop this faithless stuff and quit going down rabbit holes? (Do you talk to yourself too?)
Without the absolutely pushiness of Mark, I wouldn’t have followed through. I needed to hear from Robin and Jynae too, but I wouldn’t have reached out to them without Mark’s getting under my skin. To top it off, Joy informed me that our mutual friend, Bethany Smith, got her treatment at UT SW too, which was confirmed by her husband Adam. He said a cancer specialist friend in another city advised them to always go to a place connected with a medical school – there you will find the latest and greatest doctors and procedures. I didn’t know that Joy even knew Bethany, much less about her cancer treatment. I didn’t beforehand. That was just one more layer on the cake God was baking.
What else could God possibly have done? Was it easy to get to a surrendered faith? No, but when is it ever with matters that really count? It shouldn’t be. It should be a journey of faith, and at times a challenging journey. God is a tester of faith because he is a builder of faith. Those two go together. They are actually inseparable. Thanks for persevering with me and revealing yourself to me, Lord. I wish I could see your hand faster with the eye of faith, but just so I end up seeing it, I’m good. And most appreciative. Hold on to me, Father. I’m a mess. But you are the God of unlimited patience who understands messes and loves us anyway. Thank you!
On Monday morning, I awoke on pins and needles once again. On my knees, I asked God’s forgiveness and strength to surrender again. After all that had fallen into place by God’s providence, why was I not at peace? I determined to call UT Southwestern at 9:30 just to make sure they hadn’t forgotten me and that the process hadn’t been somehow sidetracked. Rosie had promised to call me Tuesday morning. I at least decided to show minimal patience by waiting until 9:30 to call and tried to carry on with my normal morning routine. But I was not at peace. At 9:27, I needed to relieve my bladder, and as I was doing so to help three more minutes pass, the phone rang. The caller ID told the story. It was Rosie – my personal angel assigned me by God. She said she had been working on my case since 8 am and I was scheduled for the very next day.
That was an amazing morning. Surely it would all be downhill from there, right? Wrong! My roller coaster rides with God are never short and are always a combination or sheer terror and absolute exhilaration, as roller coaster rides should be. That’s why we buy the tickets in the first place, and whether we realized it or not at the time, confessing Jesus as Lord was our request for a ticket to ride and a guarantee that we would receive it. That being true, I (and you) need to stop complaining when it feels like we are coming off the tracks of this thing called life with God and just keep holding on for dear life. Periodic wild rides are part and parcel of what we signed up for in the first place.
A Surreal Doctor Visit (January 19th)
When I entered the examination room on that Wednesday, five days from my first contact with Rosie, the nurse came in first and did her thing. Then a resident doctor being trained in this specialty came in and we started talking. He was from Phoenix, where we had lived for nine years, and it turned out we had much in common. We had played many of the same golf courses in Phoenix, for one thing. I mentioned in our conversation that we had lived for sixteen years in Boston prior to moving to Phoenix. As he left the room, I told him it was really good to meet someone from where I had once lived, and he replied, “You will like the doctor then; she is from Boston.” Then entered that very impressive specialist from Boston, a Harvard Medical School graduate and a professor at the UT Southwestern Medical School, the largest medical school in Texas.
Her introductory question still gives me chills thinking back on it. How did you get here? I deduced from the question that new patients didn’t normally start with her. The right answer was God, of course, but working through lots of people and situations, not the least of which was Rosie. When I mentioned Rosie, the doctor laughed, realizing how I got there (from a human perspective). She knew Rosie well it seems. Just amazing, the whole sequence. God didn’t violate my free will – but almost. To say he influenced it or even strongly influenced it doesn’t do justice to what he actually did. Simply mind-boggling amazing!!! Wow, just wow! I knew it might not work out as well as I hoped. I also know that one day the other shoe must fall. It is appointed unto man once to die (Hebrews 9:27), and I wouldn’t have it any other way, because that fact of life (and death) is all wrapped up the greatest story ever told, the greatest story ever conceived, a story that man could not possibly invent nor even believe at the deepest level. It is too good to be true; too spectacular to be true. But by the eye of faith, we can know it is true anyway. The Creator dying for the created – (likely the most profound sentence you have ever read.)
So when the end does come, it will be okay. But as another good doctor said (my old friend, Mark Ottenweller), “I’m going to die – just not today!” Yea! Today I am alive and well and relieved and most grateful to the only One in the universe who deserves all the gratitude received and a googol more. Thank you, Abba! You outdid yourself on this one. Spectacular, and all of the other words that can try and fail to describe you and what you did that day. Praise your holy Name, the Name that is above every name, in heaven and on earth and under the earth. AMEN!
Prayer of January 20 – Wonderful Insights!
The thought hit me last night when Theresa came by my office door that she was the greatest miracle of all, that little angel God made especially for me and then made sure I got her. I began thinking about the millions upon millions of miracles that had to occur to make this most important of all human miracles occur, and it is totally mind-boggling. For God just to have put my mother and father together seems impossible – a church girl and a party boy and barroom brawler when they married. I hope to one day find out how they actually got together. I’m sure the details must be quite interesting. But anyway, the miracle of my little angel with whom I recently celebrated our 57th wedding anniversary is the greatest miracle of all on the human side of life. Thank you, thank you, thank you – beyond words again.
Another insight was about God me, and our relationship. 2021 was a tough year in some ways, but it was a great year for spiritual growth, needed growth, much needed growth, essential growth. God has given me so much evidence that he was guiding my life in all of its paths that it seems criminal to keep questioning whether he was going to do it “this” time (the current time at any point along life’s pathways). Then the thought that hit me is that my definition of surrender focuses on his Lordship in a way somewhat different from a Father/son relationship, a love relationship. My early religious background seriously damaged my view of God and it has taken a long time, too long, to dismantle it and replace it with a more biblical view. I just want to keep falling in love with my Abba more and more deeply. That is why I am on earth. Yes, I have other purposes to accomplish, serious ones, but those purposes are because he loves me and wants the best for me. He knows that when I am aligned the most closely with his purposes, the happier and more fulfilled I am, the more I feel loved and cared for by him and special to him.
A Meltdown – Off the Edge
I suppose everyone has to find their edge and go off it. I went off mine on Tuesday, January 25th after beginning to slide the night before. In checking on the MyChart portal, I saw a message from the doctor’s nurse that my scans were set on February 14, three more weeks away. That was four weeks after my first visit to UT SW and almost a month and a half from receiving my diagnosis. That left me with a scary, sickening feeling. The two biggest things in dealing with cancer are timing and expertise. I felt like I traded the former for the latter. I just didn’t know how to weigh all of this out. I hated the intrusion of Mark to begin with but ended up feeling certain that it was God’s doing to move me in the direction of the second opinion at UT Southwestern. I also ended up feeling that my lifelong dilemma of trying to discern between God testing my surrender level and taking necessary steps to move me in a different direction to a different decision or action was a both/and this time.
I felt a crisis that I thought was easy to discern – it was only a surrender test, and one that I failed and wept about in disappointment and fear. I decided to shut down my emotions and just resign myself to the inevitable, whatever that turned out to be. I know intellectually that I cannot see the big picture of what God is doing, but spiritual surrender was not in my deck of cards at that moment. Resignation was. I can do that one. That is how most human beings survive life anyway, especially in the challenging times. We just resign ourselves to the realities no matter how bleak or painful they are. I did have enough sense left to realize that I should not share my faithlessness with others for fear of hurting their faith.
I hoped to get to a better place and always do, but this time felt different. Although I wasn’t angry at God exactly, I was for sure very disappointed and hurt. But no matter what, I determined to do my best not to hurt the faith of others. That meant, like many, many other times, I would basically be faking it. I don’t feel hypocritical about doing that. I felt like the Psalm 73 guy.
Surely in vain I have kept my heart pure and have washed my hands in innocence. 14 All day long I have been afflicted, and every morning brings new punishments. 15 If I had spoken out like that, I would have betrayed your children. 16 When I tried to understand all this, it troubled me deeply…
Unlike him, I did not keep my heart pure nor my hands innocent. I did feel like he did in verse 14 since receiving the news of the three week’s delayed scans. But my point from the Psalm was in verses 15-16. I couldn’t understand the three weeks delay, and like the Psalmist, it indeed troubled me deeply, very deeply – to the edge and off with no hope of surrender, only a grit-my-teeth-grin-and-bear-it resignation. But it was resignation to the point of trying to say what Jesus said in the Garden, “Nevertheless,” and like Daniel’s three friends said as they faced the fiery furnace, “Even if…” I wanted aloneness from everyone, whether they loved me or hated me. The day starting at Jewish time the prior evening and continuing to and through the next day was for me like a French movie. The French say that their movies start bad, get worse, and end! Viva la France!
On the evening of my very-bad-no-good-meltdown-day, I shared many of my thoughts with Theresa and was at least resigned to whatever was to come of the delayed scans and what they would eventually show. I wasn’t in a good place, but I didn’t think I was still in verses 21-22 of Psalm 73: “When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, 22 I was senseless and ignorant; I was a brute beast before you.” Once again, as God often does, he exposed and embarrassed me that same evening. The protocol is for a medical person to call and inform you of any scheduled scans or changes in their schedule. I had received no such calls. But for some reason, I happened to look at the portal before going to bed. The tests had been moved up in spite of the fact that I had been told it was impossible unless a cancellation occurred. But two tests of different types cancelled, opening up two spots on the same day at just the right intervals? How many “coincidences” could come my way in such a short span of time?
Huge Benefits of a Meltdown
After seeing the change in the schedule, I was indeed exposed and embarrassed at my lack of faith, and convicted of my mistrust and accompanying sins. I stayed up for a long time, praying and journaling and reading Scripture and writing. It was a time of pain and joy uniquely mixed together in bringing my heart back to God. My lack of trust in that one twenty-four-hour period was deeply convicting and deeply saddening. Honestly, it still is as I write this. God had done nothing but bless me and show himself to me. I felt like Hagar in Genesis 16:13, “She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: ‘You are the God who sees me,’ for she said, ‘I have now seen the One who sees me.’” People complain that it is difficult to believe in a God that they cannot see, much less trust him. But you can see him. He wants to be seen. He has shown himself to me over and over, but I am too often blind or just not paying attention. You see that in this story thus far, don’t you? But in my meltdown, I didn’t. And that is not all that I had experienced during that time, just the main points.
I continued to pursue my repentance late into the night and early the next morning. It was a rich experience. I looked up familiar passages and saw lessons I had missed before. That is a part of seeing God. He shows up in his love letter revelation to us in ways we haven’t seen him previously. He keeps giving us new insights through both experiences and Scriptures. Romans 2:4 was one of the first verses I looked at. “Or do you show contempt for the riches of his kindness, forbearance and patience, not realizing that God’s kindness is intended to lead you to repentance?” The context of this verse is showing the sins of the Jews in judging the Gentiles. They thought they had been blessed because they deserved it, that they were better than all those outside the Israelite nation. But God had been good to them to induce repentance and appreciation in them, not to exalt them. Their own judgmental attitudes condemned them.
As I thought about that context, I suddenly realized that I took it to a much higher (actually far, far lower) place and judged God himself! Perfectly horrific. Through his word, the sword of the Spirit (Ephesians 6:17), he cut into my messed-up heart and in the process, started his beautiful heart surgery on me. He is the Great Physician, after all. I know that God allows us to question him, just as any good parent does their children. The Psalmists prove that over and over. But the questioning can go too far, as did Job’s. I didn’t want to cross that line, but even if I had, God would still be right there. I realized that when I began looking at the ending of Psalm 73.
When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, 22 I was senseless and ignorant; I was a brute beast before you. 23 Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. 24 You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. 25 Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. 26 My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. 27 Those who are far from you will perish; you destroy all who are unfaithful to you. 28 But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge; I will tell of all your deeds.
What a beautiful ending to the Psalm! That’s God in plain view. He always holds us close and holds us tight – even at our worst when we are brute beasts. God is good and always good and cannot be otherwise. In addressing the Jews Romans 2, in spite of their sins of which they were totally unaware yet proud of and justifying, God was trying to lead them by their right hand out of the mess they were in. When we are out of our senses, God is still with us, holding us by our hands, leading us back into spiritual reality. I picture a parent with a three-year-old child who wants to go the opposite way than they are being led. They are kicking and screaming and throwing a tantrum. What does the parent do? They just keep gently pulling the child along with them in the direction they know they should go, knowing that the child will eventually give up the fight and follow, and either apologize or be taught by the parent to apologize after throwing a hissy fit. That’s what good parents do and that’s how children learn to trust parents. Where do parents learn how to do that? The writer of this Psalm would say, correctly, from God.
Satan’s work with us is the exact same as it was with Eve in the Garden, namely to cause us to mistrust God by believing that he is withholding something good from us; to believe that he really doesn’t want the very best for us. One of his tools is to convince us that God only loves us when we are doing well. When we are a mess in a mess, he turns aside and with arms crossed in frustration or anger, he waits until we straighten up and then he turns back toward us and if we have repented with enough guilt and sorrow, he is then willing to give us a hug. That is exactly the opposite of how God really works. Using the analogy of the parent holding on to their three-year-old child in rebellion, what does the parent do in this case? They hold on tighter to keep the child from hurting themselves. Now the child may step in mud puddles and skin their knees on the sidewalk in their self-inflicted escapades, but the parent holds on tighter. Were the child not fighting, the parent could pick them up and carry them over the mud puddles and the rough patches, but no matter what, the parent holds on – especially when the child insists on going the wrong way. That is like God, isn’t it? He doesn’t just hold on to us when we are gleefully following his lead. It is precisely when we are at our worst that he reaches for us. Read it.
You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. 7 Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. 8 But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Psalm 73 goes on to say that God keeps guiding us, teaching us and maturing us until such time as he takes us home with him to glory. Thus, as we do mature spiritually, what happens? Heaven becomes all about God and our relationship eternally with him. It’s not about streets of gold or anything we humans imagine as being heaven. It’s not about making 1000-yard drives on golf courses constructed from our wildest imaginations or catching ten-pound largemouth bass on every cast on the most beautiful lake imaginable. It is about being with our Abba, forever and ever, loving and being loved in unimaginable ways. More importantly in the here-and-now, life on earth becomes all about God and developing a relationship with him into deeper and deeper levels. Everything else in this life pales into insignificance when we get the lesson that our writer friend learned. I’m just using his words with a bit of editing. It’s all right there.
He ended this marvelous chapter in this longest book in the Bible with complete satisfaction in being near God and in making him his refuge. That is all about relationship, simply and beautifully. This is why God made us and he works with us from the day of our birth until the day of our death, helping us see that and once we see it, helping us grow continually until we are at home with him. No wonder our dear writer says that he would tell the story of all of God’s deeds. How could he not? He had just been led out of a dark place to the brightest realizations known to mankind. He foreshadowed the words of my favorite Bible character, “We also believe and therefore speak” (2 Corinthians 4:13).
Seeing God Everywhere
Seeing God is a learned art. It is a matter of looking and focusing. Many years ago, I was staying in the home of a good minister friend and his wife whom I had helped train. His church was conducting an evangelistic campaign and I was the guest speaker. One afternoon, the brother and I were walking through a small grove of trees behind their house, and he commented about how the trees were just full of plums that season. I thought he was kidding me, because when I looked up into the trees I didn’t see one plum. But he insisted that he wasn’t joking and was surprised that I thought he was, since he assured me that the trees were indeed full of plums. I kept looking up for a while in search of plums and at a certain point, I suddenly saw them – tons of them. They were the same color as the leaves of the tree, not yet being in the ripened stage. I was shocked, pleasantly so. I just wasn’t focused and prepared to see what was abundantly obvious all the time. You get the point, I’m sure. Start looking. God is everywhere, omnipresent we say, and all loving, which means that he is in your life too – and observably so if you are prepared to see him.
One of my “impossible” prayers for this year is to eliminate negative thinking by looking at best case scenarios rather than worst case scenarios, and to see positive ways of viewing things that appear negative. In other words, trust that every dark cloud has a silver lining if we will but look for it and be patient as we look. It often takes time to see it. Hindsight is much clearer than foresight. I think back to an unusual episode last November. I had just returned from attending and speaking on a beautiful memorial service for one of my heroes, Ron Brumley, in San Diego. On the following Saturday, I was spending time with Theresa and all was well with my world – until it wasn’t. I started having some odd little hallucinations, like I was dropping off to sleep and having a series of quick dreams. Yet I was wide awake and walking around inside the house and even outside once to check the mail. I talked to Theresa about it and we decided it was probably wise to visit the ER, although the episode only lasted five or ten minutes. Once there, they started doing tests of several types, primarily checking to see if I had suffered a stroke. I hadn’t. But the blood test showed a kidney problem, enough to be called an “acute kidney injury.”
They checked me into the hospital for the night and hooked me up to an IV. By morning, my kidney function was back in the normal range. I described every part of my activities for the past week to the doctors and nurses, including the trip to San Diego. Dehydration was a part of the issue, I’m sure, and I had a theory about what else might have contributed to the odd and scary episode. None of the medical folks had any better theories than I did, and the hospitalist discharged me just after noon the next day. That experience bothered me until I had my scans of last week explained. They injected me with Iodine-containing contrast medium in both types of scans. My specialist had my kidney function tested again before the scans, because the scan processes put a strain on the kidneys. Mine checked out fine. So what is the silver lining in that November cloud experience? I had done something that temporarily affected my kidney function and without the strange episode, what was called an injury might have progressed to damage. That was a heck of a way to find it out, but a part of an ongoing roller coaster ride with an adventuresome God. At least, that is the best I can make of it, and that is good enough for me.
A Final Story (just came to mind)
I could go on and on about my recent experiences and seeing God in them, but I will just include one more that I just thought of while writing this. It’s worth the read, trust me. Years ago, while living in Boston, we had a very close relationship with a couple originally from Australia, Graham and Suzanne Gumley. Graham was (and is) one of the foremost microsurgeons in the world. When they were in Boston, Graham was a professor in the medical schools of Harvard and Northeastern. They are back in Australia now, and prior to going back, Graham served as the chief surgeon in a hospital in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, a project of HOPE Worldwide. With all of the injuries still occurring from Pol Pot’s buried land mines, it would be interesting to hear Graham’s surgical stories from that decade of his life. He is still a professor in medical schools in his home country and at age 70, still conducting surgeries to reattach body parts severed through accidents. I know some of those stories but won’t take the time here to tell them, though they are beyond fascinating.
After years of not connecting with the Gumleys, I just “happened” to receive an email from Graham on December 30th of 2021, the day after the sample tissue was taken by my doctor that led to the cancer diagnosis. When I communicated back via email the next day, I described in some detail my health issues, including the fact that I was awaiting the results of that test from the day prior to his first email. His reply to mine arrived January 6th, the day after I got the cancer diagnosis. In it, he asked if we could share a Zoom call to catch up, which we did a few days later, and had a wonderful talk. Graham isn’t just a great surgeon; he is a great person and great disciple of Jesus. His wife is quite special as well.
Here’s the kicker. Graham was in his office when we were talking on Zoom. He said that literally right next door to where he was sitting was the best colorectal department in all of Australia and he could ask his friends there any question that I might have or get any advice I might want. As I said, I just thought of this story as I was trying to finish up this already too long article. It’s just one more of the incredible adventures in my recent spiritual roller coaster ride with God, who himself obviously loves adventures. He created us, didn’t he? After hearing about one 33-day adventure in my recent life experience, isn’t it pretty clear that God not only wants to be seen but can be seen – clearly? Of course, I could continue by mentioning that 33 is my all-time favorite number. My email addresses both start with gordonferguson33. Coincidence? Think what you want, but I knew before I started counting the days between January 5 and February 7 what the number was going to be. I’m not always blind or not looking. As my good friend, Steve Hiddleson, would say just about now (approvingly), I’m just getting plumb “wiggley.”
Join me, and start looking everywhere for God. He is there, anxious to be seen and be with you. The old spiritual song, “My God and I,” describes it well. And with it, I close.
My God and I go in the fields together
we walk and talk as good friends should and do
we clasp our hands our voices ring with laughter
my God and I walk through the meadow’s hew
He tells me of the years that went before me
when heavenly plans were laid for me to be
when all was but a dream of deep reflections
to come to life earth’s verdant glory see
My God and I would go for aye together
we’ll walk and talk as good friends always do
this earth will pass and with it common trifles
but God and I will go unendingly
Roller coaster rides are at their best when they give you surprises. Thus, being on life’s roller coaster with God as both designer and the one at the controls is destined to be chock full of surprises. Sometimes those surprises are initially delightful and sometimes they are initially disappointing, even devastatingly so. You might guess that I had such a shocking disappointment soon after I wrote the first part of the story, right? After experiencing it, I deleted both the Facebook post of February 8 and this article. I forgot to delete the FB post seven days later which introduced the article. Odd I didn’t think of that, but I didn’t until now. Roller coaster rides which expose you to a lot of G forces must affect your memory, at least temporarily! You will want to read Part Two of the article, “Devastating Disappointment and the Continuing Story.” You should also guess, God being God, that the continuing story finds me back at the top of the rails once again – howbeit not easily nor quickly!