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.”
Tag: faith
After Death, New Life
“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.
Trusting God in the Face of Cancer
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.
Why Hasn’t God Healed Me?
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.
Does God Care Whether You Have a Headache?
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?”
Unfortunate Miracle on the Highway
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.
Is Jesus Disappointing?
This is a special, Good Friday edition of the blog. Please offer a warm welcome to guest writer Tim Schultz. Thanks, Tim, for taking the time to share these powerful thoughts on the message of Good Friday. * * * As Jesus rides into Jerusalem on the first Palm Sunday, He’s being praised by the crowds as a conquering king. Within one week, the crowd has transformed into an angry mob calling for Jesus’ execution. What happened?
Garbage Pick-up from Heaven
Last week was painful for my wife and me. In a span of 24 hours, life dealt us a couple of hard blows, and when it was over, we could hardly stand up. Although I normally ride the bus, on Thursday I asked my wife to take me to work. I felt stressed and wanted to spend a little more time with her and our baby. She agreed to do so, and I agreed to feed the baby in the back seat.
My Four-Dollar Miracle
I was a poor law student living on $300 a month, and as soon as I saw the police cars down the road, I instinctively put my foot on the break. I couldn’t afford a ticket. It was just a police checkpoint though. I slowed down, stopped beside the officer, and handed him my driver’s license. He furrowed his brow. “You’re going to need to pull over. Your license is expired,” he said, writing me a $50 ticket.
Where are You, Jesus?
I’m usually the first one to greet my daughter every morning when she wakes up. I hold her torso against my chest, she presses her face against my neck, and I rock her. Before long, though, she starts squirming as the need for her morning milk exceeds her need for morning hugs.
An Hour-and-a-Half of Brain Cancer
Last Friday afternoon, I got a call from my neurologist’s office. I had recently gotten an MRI, and my doctor’s secretary had called to say my doctor wanted me to see an oncologist. I didn’t know why my doctor wanted me to see a cancer specialist; and unfortunately, the secretary didn’t either. “Please, if you know what this is about, tell me,” I said. “I’m really sorry,” she said. “I don’t, but I’ll have the doctor call you back today.”
Did Mel Gibson Kill Jesus?
This is a continuation of my previous post. Two days before the opening of The Passion of the Christ, I sat in front of the television, wide-eyed, anxiously awaiting Diane Sawyer’s prime-time special – an interview with Mel Gibson, the film’s director. At the crux of the interview, Sawyer squinted her eyes, tilted her head, and asked Mel Gibson the big question: “Who killed Jesus? Was it the Jews? The Romans?” I leaned forward, curious what Gibson would say.
Grace in the Pediatric ICU
This is a continuation of my previous post. My seven-month-old nephew, Canaan, was in a semi-comatose state, a victim of an unforeseen intestinal disease. He had been through two emergency surgeries in two days; his small intestine and kidneys were failing. He had 12 machines hooked to his body, two respirators down his throat, and his swollen small intestine was hanging in a bag above his body.
He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not
This is a continuation of my previous post. After four years of living like a legalistic, modern-day Pharisee, I was exhausted, humiliated by failure, and desperate for freedom. Despite my good intentions, I had turned my life into a spiritual circus act. I followed as many rules as possible, only to discover that following the rules can’t make you holy – but rules can make you very aware of your sin (see my previous post).
I Fought the Law, and the Law Won
This is a continuation of my previous post. Three years into college, I had done everything in my power to grow into the man evangelical Christianity wanted me to be. But I could never do enough, and the pressure was making me physically sick and leaving me with a sense of worthlessness.
Joshua Rogers 