I Will Praise You in This Storm

February started off on a great foot. Late last year I bought a car that was busy growing grass when I found it. We (my son, a good friend, and myself) spent the next three months fixing those things that kept the car from running properly and I was able to start using the car regularly the first of February. I have always wanted one of this particular brand of car, and the day I licensed the car I opened the sunroof and had a "thank you Jesus" party as I drove up and down the road.

Life was good.

Then Monday came, literally.

Our family was plunged into a deep, dark abyss. Many of you know that my wife and I lost our first two children. I do not hesitate to tell you that this crisis rivals those great losses, The rest of February was lost in a deep struggle that was all at once physical, emotional, and spiritual. All of our lives have been affected profoundly by this experience. Each of us has carried an enormous load that at times grew heavier but has not yet grown lighter.  And while we are beginning the see the light at the end of that tunnel (we hope), the journey to the final resolution is going to be a long and difficult one.

Added to the personal struggles have been some professional issues as well. I have heard the work of a pastor described as being something akin to "herding cats" or "pushing cooked spaghetti." Those amusing anecdotes carry a great deal of truth as they describe some of the unique challenges of being a pastor. Please understand, our church has been very gracious and generous towards my family during this time of crisis. But people are people and life continues for all of us, and that means that there were still misunderstandings and conflicts and decisions to be made. Like any family, the church is a work in progress, filled with differing opinions and desires and agendas. As a pastor, I'm trying to herd these cats in a unified direction while I deal with my own personal and family struggles.

Leading a church is a demanding thing, and I was not up to the task for most of the last six weeks.

All of this has left me weak and vulnerable and Satan has done his best in these past weeks to discourage me, to steal my joy. I wish I could tell you that I have weathered these storms with flying colors, that I never lost my joy or my confidence or had my faith tested...but that isn't true. There have been times in the last six weeks that I simply lost it. I have had my share of struggles and have voiced my frustrations with God more than once.

I'm not writing this from the position of someone who has emerged on the other side, but as someone who continues to struggle as we all do. Would you allow me share with you some of the things I am learning/relearning in all this?

1. God knows where I am. There have been times in the last few weeks that it seemed as if I was all alone. We made the decision not to make the public the nature of our family crisis. We told only a few trusted prayer partners and some church leaders. But for the most part no one knew/knows what was happening within our family. It was hard in those early days to not answer the texts and phone call and other questions that came. Sometimes we must walk a lonely path in human terms. But human loneliness is not spiritual aloneness. God was and is always with us. When I remember this I am better able to deal with the struggles because I know that  I am not alone and that I am not the only one who has struggled.

2. God never sleeps.  I have never slept much...but during that last few weeks I have slept even less. Some of my most intimate moments with God have come in the deepest hours of the night. I  have poured out my heart to God at 2:30am and found that he was there. When I couldn't share my heart with anyone else, when there was no one there, God was. In what little, fitful sleep that I've had He has watched over me. He has been there.

3. God cares. One of Satan's biggest lies is that God doesn't care about us. Another is that God is too busy to bother with us. If we believe either of those we will certainly succumb to despair. The truth is that God does care for each of his children. In the midst of our struggles God has proven again and again in a number of different ways throughout all of this that He cares.

4. God fights for His children. It's easy to lose sight of God in the midst of all the things that happen around us. There are some folks who think that God sits in heaven and doesn't bother himself with us. That couldn't be farther from the truth. I have a word for those who seek to advance their personal agendas at the expense of others...The Lord will fight for those who are his and you will not prevail.

5. God loves me. Some of you know of my childhood. The hardest struggle of my life has been accepting the fact that God loves me. The past few weeks have resurrected that old struggle. Satan has used these many struggles to whisper that God must not love me because if He did I wouldn't have such issues. That's a lie. The love of God doesn't mean that there won't be struggles, in fact the exact opposite, because God loves us we can expect Satan to do his best to cause us to struggle and doubt. As long as we live in this fallen world we can expect struggle. The presence of struggle is not evidence of the lack of God's love, but His work of deliverance is the greatest proof of his love for us.

There are so many other lessons that I am learning, but I think that this is enough for now. I ask that you continue to pray for my family and our church. May God be glorified in both.

When Did Evil Become Stronger Than Us?

I have long enjoyed the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien. I first read the Lord of the Rings trilogy when I was twelve and soon after discovered his other works. They have kept me entertained many times throughout the years. You will understand my mixture of excitement and apprehension when I learned that the Rings trilogy would be made into full-length feature movies. On the whole I felt that Peter Jackson did a great job adapting the story to film. I own all of the Rings movies and enjoy watching them when I have the time.

I recently purchased the second Hobbit movie; "The Desolation of Smaug." While watching it again I was struck a line of dialogue that occurs between Legolas and Tauriel; two elves who are pursuing the orcs that are hunting down a company of dwarves. Tauriel asks Legolas: "When did we allow evil to become stronger than us?" The first time I heard that line I was struck by how telling it was for our time.

It has become accepted practice in the church to ask how our culture has become what it is, and many in the church have begun to ask how it is that the church has come to be in the shape that it is in. We seem surprised that our churches are seemingly powerless in the face of our culture's slide into wickedness, but anything more than a cursory glance at the condition of our churches will provide the answer to our cultural decline. The cultural decline in America is tied directly to the health of our churches. A sick and dying church leads to a sick and dying culture.

And the church is sick because the church has chosen accommodation and acceptance over devotion and dedication. Since 1960 we have seen the dishonoring of Sunday as a day of rest and worship, the wholesale acceptance of death on demand for those in the womb, the resignation to the idea that "everybody's doing it," and innumerable other social sins. And throughout all of this "progress" (how is it that those who promote sinful, ungodly behavior have been allowed to label such behaviors as "progressive?") the church has grown more and more mute and more and more irrelevant less and less influential. If I might be so bold, I believe that the church has become this way because the pulpits of our churches have lost the power of God. I don't want to disparage pastors, I am one myself, but our pulpits have lost the power of God. Most of the pastors I know are good men who love God, but they struggle with and increasingly indifferent local body that doesn't want to heart the truth as much as they want to have their ears tickled, to be told that they are "special" and that God is all about their happiness and giving them all that they wanted. Whatever happened to dying to self, taking up your cross and following Jesus?

In short, we don't need more Joel Osteen's or Joyce Meyers'...we need more W.A. Criswell's and John MacArthur's. The American church public may not want it, but they need it. The Word of God contains the only answer to what ails America. Another program, another emphasis, another building or catchphrase or best selling book won't fix the church or our nation. The answer to what we need is found in 2 Chronicles 7:14:

and My people who are called by My name humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

We all need to forsake the self-centered, materialistic, comfortable religion of our day and embrace the cross of Christ. 

Thoughts on Providence

If you are a facebook friend or a follower of my blog you know that I have struggled over the last several months with extremely serious heart problems. These problems culminated in triple-bypass surgery, a defibrillator implanted in my chest and a stent following a minor heart attack in January. Needless to say, life has been "interesting." I have become accustomed to my own mortality and resigned to the fact that the rest of my days would be a struggle with pain and fatigue.

But it turns out that I was wrong.

Yesterday I was given some of the best news I've had since my wife said "yes" all those years ago. My heart function has improved to the point that it is now considered normal. I am not considered to be suffering from congestive heart failure at this time. How did this happen? We could talk about my commitment to exercise and a better diet or the medicines doing their job or any number of factors. But I believe the real answer came from something that was not said in the clinic yesterday....The Nurse Practitioner pointed to the sky and said "It means that there's a purpose for you to still be here..." She was completely right.

I recently performed a funeral for a man four years younger than myself. He dropped dead from a heart attack. No warning, no symptoms. He was here one moment and gone the very next. That situation was hard on me....knowing that there was no reason why that shouldn't have been me. But God has a purpose for keeping me here.

God has a purpose...That's an interesting thought. So much of life seems random and meaningless. The images coming from Japan shake us with their scope and starkness. Can there be any purpose in such devastation? I have quite a bit of experience with devastation, especially on an emotional level and I want to tell you that there is a purpose in it, and that good can and does come from it. As a Christian I believe that God is using all of the events in my life to mold my character into a better reflection of Him. People talk all the time about wanting to die well....I want to live well. I want people to look back at my life and be able to clearly see a love and devotion to God that filled and directed every decision, every action, every word and thought. I figure that will insure dying well.

God has granted me a healing that I never asked for and never thought I would receive. I am grateful beyond words, but I hope that the life I've lived over the last few months was a witness enough of God's power to sustain us even when life isn't what we'd hoped or bargained for.

Perhaps someday I'll understand God's purpose for this season of my life...not that it really matters if I do or not. What matters is that I use this season in a way that brings glory to Him. That's the only purpose that really matters.

Lessons from a Piano Player

Today started out as one of those days. I prayed very specifically for someone only to find later that they were experiencing the very thing that I had asked God to deliver them from. This was followed by a trip to the mechanic. I recently had a pretty significant amount of work done on our Suburban. With six kids we naturally require a larger vehicle and the Suburban fills the bill nicely. On a trip to the closest Sam's yesterday I noticed that the truck was running hot. The repair work that we recently had done all had to do with the cooling system. I reasoned that it was merely a minor adjustment to one of the previous repairs. But it wasn't. While still unsure as to the true nature of the problem we are faced with the possibility that we may have to replace the engine. I don't know anyone for whom that expense wouldn't be prohibitive. All this before 8am.


My day then took me to the hospital, where I stood by the bedside of an Alzheimer's patient. The disease has robbed this person's family of a parent. This person was unaware of my presence but appeared full of despair. My heart breaks for their family and for the patient. The other visits were not as difficult, but taxing all the same. Everyone looks to a pastor for understanding and comfort, yet they are unaware of the cost these demand of the human agent involved. Hospitals are by their nature places of great stress and emotional upheaval.


My next trip took me to the nursing home. I must confess to you that nursing homes are not my favorite places to visit. A bad experience at a nursing home as a child still has a profound effect on me today. But I have learned to deal with my discomfort. The first place I always check for the person I came to see is the dining room. I found her there taking part in a worship service being held by a local church. As I came into the dining room the first thing I noticed was the piano. The woman playing the piano was in her 60's but she played with the energy and enthusiasm of someone a third her age. The music was infectious and joyful and I enjoyed it as much as the residents. It was uplifting to see and hear her play.


But the blessings did not stop there. After a testimony time a woman using an oxygen tank shared a devotional message. I honestly cannot tell you much of what she said, but I can tell you that she made this statement: Without the mountain you have no testimony. When I heard those words it was as if the Lord had slapped me on the side of the head and said "See, there's a purpose in all this." I don't know about you, but I need to be reminded every now and then that God really is in control. Somewhere in the course of the morning I had become overwhelmed by the hurt and struggle all around me. Coupling that with the unpleasant possibilities with the car and I found it easy to think that God had somehow forgotten my situation.


Without the mountain you have no testimony. How easy is it to forget the truth of those words. She went on to say that we shouldn't pray that God would move the mountain but that we should pray for strength to climb the mountain. There are people all around us who need to see that God can and does give us the strength to climb the mountains of our lives, whether they are financial, health, or spiritual mountains. I should have remembered that and I'm more than a little embarassed to admit that I had allowed myself to forget it. In my years in ministry (30 years come November) I have met many people who thought their pastors could make no mistakes...I'm sure I've disappointed all of them. But I'm also certain that God has provided the strength to climb every mountain.


As I thought about that this morning I thought about the piano player. She had seen much trouble in her life, I'm sure, but there she was playing with a passion and a joy that told me that she understood that there was a purpose in the mountains she had faced. She had learned the truth of God's presence and the strength he provides on the mountains. She reminded me that cars, health and church are all under his dominion. The may be mountains to me, but they are opportunities for God to prove his faithful love for me.


Thank you ladies....God used you to redeem my day.

The Valley of the Shadow of Death

Still fumbling with the shoe covers, I stumbled into the delivery room. What confronted me there took my breath away. There to my left lay my wife, holding her hand out to me, seeking my comfort. My newborn son lay on a warming table to my right. I stood frozen between the two, uncertain where I should be. As I stood watching my son I saw his tiny arms and legs twitch once and then again. Then before my eyes he went still. My son Jonathan died that moment, and something inside of me died that day too.



Those events took place August 12, 1987, twenty-two years ago today. I was 26 years old, old enough to know that life was hard, but young enough to still believe that I could change the world. I could never have guessed that this would not be the only time I would see a newborn son die. My son Timothy died in March of 1989. Throughout all of the things that I have seen and experienced in my life these are the darkest days of all. There has never been anything so hard, so devastating, so lonely.



We fear nothing more than death. Death is seen as the end of all things, the termination of not just life but also of anything associated with the one who dies. Death is a thief who takes from us that which is not his. We see death as an enemy, a mindless monster driven only by blind instinct. Death to most is a thing to be avoided at all costs.

The death of a child is the most awful thing I have ever known, easily surpassing any and all of the other struggles of my life. When a child dies there is the loss of hope, the loss of dreams. The death of a child leaves a gaping wound that defies our attempts at healing, taunting us as we see others enjoying what we have lost. I have known all of these things through the loss of not one but two sons.

Death can be overcome, not in a physical sense, but in the heart and spirit, the emotion and will. My wife and I took years to find healing, in many respects that healing is still in progress, but we are healing. Johnathan and Timothy taught me that death is a part of life and by embracing their deaths I have come to be more whole. I have learned that death is not permanent, that there is a part of each of us that lives on. As a Christian I have always believed in eternity, but the deaths of my sons drove me to delve more deeply into the question than cliches and simple, yet misguided answers. The truth is that not only do my sons live in my heart and memory, they live in heaven in the presence of God.

Death is not the end of dreams. I have come to understand that God desires to use me to bring comfort to others who have experienced death. Death does not bring an end to life for those left behind but it does require a reassessment of those things we consider important. Too many of us expect (actually it's closer to demand) that life should unfold according to our desires. We seldom consider the cost of the lives we desire. Death guides us all to reexamine priorities, desires, hopes, and goals. Through the process of grief we can come to better understand what proper priorities should be and how our lives can be more in line with the will of God.

Death is never meaningless. The death of children never makes sense, whether those children are infants or teens. There comes with death overwhelming emotions that cause us to doubt that God is in control of the events of this life. But nothing is farther from the truth. God is in control and death is neither out of His control or beyond His purposes. It is true that we may not find the answers we want in this lifetime, but we can be assured that God has a reason and purpose for permitting death to take a loved one. I have come to understand that my own life before the deaths of my sons, filled with abuse and neglect, was a preparation for learning to deal with the terrible aftermath of death. I have seen that death is not an end but the beginning of a new aspect of life, one with greater meaning and purpose. My own journey from death back to life has shown me the power of God to redeem the most terrible tragedy.

Johnathan and Timothy have bypassed the troubles and struggles of this life. They enjoy the presence of God the Father rather than struggle with the failings of their earthly father. Their deaths, while still painful to recall, have made me a stronger, more faithful man. I thank God not only for them but also for the lessons their deaths taught me.