I was in my thirties before I realized what a weird game we played at the church Christmas dinner of 1987. It seemed ingenious at the time though. Someone took a large goblet, pressed play on the tape deck, and passed the goblet around the room. The 19 or 20 people of our little church were expected to drop money in when it passed by. The object of the game was simple: when the music stopped playing, whoever had the glass got to keep all the change.
I have a Jewish friend named Jared who grew up in southern California and has minimal experience with evangelicals. Every once in a while, I introduce him to elements of our sometimes-odd subculture. The other day, a short conversation provided an opportunity to explain the all-important evangelical phrase, “I do/don’t have a peace about it.”
The other day, my wife and I were in the backyard with Daniela, our 22-month-old daughter, who was playing with a beach ball. My wife ran a few steps beyond her and said, “Come on, Daniela. Run!”
“Make sure and record as many of your child’s moments as you can, especially in the early years,” said my coworker. “You’d be surprised how quickly she will change.” I thought it was good advice, but I didn’t want to break out the video camera every time my daughter said a new word. So instead, I decided to get a journal and – every day – write one thing my daughter did and one thing my wife did.
“Trusting God in the Face of Cancer” shared the first part of Stephanie and Jason Weathers’ faith journey, and it’s already one of the most highly-read posts on this blog. This week, we conclude their powerful story. Please note that the conclusion of this story is painful, and reader discretion is advised if you know someone who has been removed from life support. However, beyond the painful details, at its heart, this story is a testament to the God who gives us grace when we are suffering and at our weakest.
As the regular readers of this blog may know, a few months ago, I was understandably convinced I had brain cancer – that is, for an hour-and-a-half. During that time period, I was terrified – like never before – as I tried to fathom how life was going to change. My almost-comical ordeal only lasted ninety minutes – Jason Weathers got a real diagnosis of cancer in 2008, resulting in a powerful testimony of God’s grace in the face of a worst-case scenario. So today I’m going to share the first part of Jason and his wife’s story.
I wasn’t looking to be freaked out. It was 3:30 a.m., I had been working for over 22 hours, and I had to drive 45 minutes to Starkville, Mississippi. All I wanted was sleep. While driving down the foggy, pitch-black highway, I turned on The Kevin McCullough Show, a talk radio show on which the host was discussing whether kids should play with BB guns. I have a strong opinion on the topic, so when the host invited callers to respond, I picked up my cell phone and called.
Last week, one of my articles got published over at Boundless. It felt like it was my birthday. For a year-and-a-half, I’ve been consistently cranking out articles that have been mostly read by my mom and her quilting guild. The next thing you know, the traffic meter on my blog zooms upward, new people start subscribing, and I’m on the phone with an agent who’s offering me a chance to co-write a book with Beth Moore (okay, that last part didn’t actually happen).
My wife was racked with pain, desperate to deliver our baby, and on the verge of her last push. My pulse raced, my breath was shallow, and I was both terrified and elated. “I want to catch the baby,” I said to the doctor, reminding him, for the third time, of what we had discussed five weeks ago at my wife’s appointment.
So I’ve been trying to figure out how to write about a non-life-threatening, chronic medical condition I have and its impact on my spiritual journey. But I’ve been avoiding it for months, because I don’t want to publicly share the details of my medical history. So I came up with a solution: let’s just pretend I’ve got a nail in my head, right under the surface – a nail doctors can’t remove without damaging my brain. Quite frankly, it’s been more annoying than anything – but, believe me, it has been really annoying.
Last Saturday, my 18-month old daughter was the flower girl in her cousin’s wedding. Daniela just learned to walk a month ago, so we questioned whether she would make it down the lengthy, red-carpeted aisle.
I don’t often get headaches, but when I do, I ask God to heal me. Even so, I often find myself doubting He actually cares about something so trivial. I figure He’s got more important things to worry about – things like world hunger, sex trafficking, orphans, and cancer. I can’t help but wonder if He hears my request, shrugs, and thinks, “Why don’t you use your energy to pray for someone who has a real problem?”
My father, David, was younger than me when his first wife left him for another man (note: my father’s first wife was not my mother). It was 1974, and the implosion of their marriage was messy, leaving him bitter and questioning his faith. Sitting in the passenger’s seat as his father drove down the highway, he vented his frustrations and eventually began railing against God.
Last week, I took my 16-month-old girl to a playground where we met another dad and his baby daughter. The girls played together nicely, and I chatted with the other dad, Justin, who seemed like a nice guy. Then things suddenly got awkward, thanks to my daughter.
Sometimes you run across a story that demonstrates God’s love in a way that a theological explanation never could. Today, I’m featuring one of those stories from guest writer Evan Bell. If God’s been nudging you to take a risk, to give more than you thought you had to give – read this article. You may just walk away with the courage to follow Him down a path that will change your life forever.
Joshua Rogers 