Lloyd always sat by his wife in the same pew. Because of his unwieldy oxygen tank they always sat on the pew in the front of the last group of pews off to the side and mostly by themselves. Lloyd had graduated from Oregon State and taught high school and college mathematics. Lloyd looked like he must have been ninety years old, only he wasn't. Lloyd was 68. Although Lloyd had won a bout with cancer it was a Pyrrhic victory. The chemo therapy had ravaged his lungs and left him frail and weak. But Lloyd never blamed God. I know, because I asked him once. He answered with all sincerity as if the thought of it had never entered his mind. I was taken aback and slightly ashamed.
The only reason I know all this about Lloyd is because I of my MS. A few years ago I, like most of the people on Sunday morning, wouldn't have sat down by Lloyd and started a conversation. Maybe I just didn't see him. Maybe his condition made me uncomfortable. Perhaps it reminded me of my own mortality. But 9 months ago as I walked around the church with my new cane, I saw him differently for the first time. A fellow sufferer. Both of us battered and scarred. So, I took the empty seat beside him and introduced myself.
For the next six months, whenever I could, I took the seat beside Lloyd and asked how he was and what he had done that week. Our relationship was casual and so was our conversation. He had little breath or energy, but he always had a smile. As the date for my procedure approached, I shared with him my hopes for healing.
On July 12th, God freed me from my MS through a simple outpatient procedure in Albany, NY. Some of my MS symptoms disappeared immediately. Others seem to be receding slowly like flood waters. For the first time in many years, I am starting to feel like a man instead of a cripple. I am overwhelmed with gratitude to God for release from what I had thought was a life-long sentence. I would never get a chance to share my results with Lloyd.
I didn't find out Lloyd had died until Sunday, August 1st, when my wife noticed Lloyd's wife leaving church alone. We caught up with her and learned of his final week on this earth. He had died July 9th. Pneumonia had crept in to his weakened lungs and took him. It had been announced in church on July 11th as we were on a plane to NY. We hugged her and offered our condolences and our help in packing up her house and moving to a condominium. As we walked away I couldn't help but think that the God Lloyd had loved so unwaveringly had used him along with my MS to teach me one more lesson before he took them both out of my life. I'm looking forward to seeing one of them again someday.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Lawyers, Trendlines and Really Good Gifts
It is hard to imagine, but when I was younger I knew even less about God than I know now. To me He was a cold and distant figure. Much like the president. I believed He was there and that he was very powerful, but I wasn't doubtful He was interested in my personal happiness.
Perhaps I'd heard one too many stories about evil genies tricking would be wishers, or maybe junior high had made me just a little paranoid. In any case, when I would pray for something, anything, I would turn my requests over and over in my head like a lawyer trying to construct an air-tight contract. I thought, in my childish brain, that God might try to "answer" my prayer without really answering it. If I didn't get what I wanted, then it was my fault for not asking correctly.
About five years ago, I received the gift of Multiple Sclerosis. Now I sit in a hotel room in Albany, NY awaiting a treatment tomorrow that might just take it away. Or it might not. I have read the miraculous accounts of patients that felt cured. I have also shared in the disappointment of those who's symptoms did not change. What will be my experience? Will this be the off-ramp from the road to disability, or simply a waste of time and money? God knows what I want and what I am asking for, but tomorrow when this gift is unwrapped what will be inside?
Near the end of John the Baptist's life, while he was wasting away in prison, his disciples came to him to complain that he was losing followers to Jesus, perhaps expecting him to be upset or depressed about his declining popularity. Surely he would have a plan of action!
Whatever God's gift to me tomorrow, I must remember these things:
...or is it?
Perhaps I'd heard one too many stories about evil genies tricking would be wishers, or maybe junior high had made me just a little paranoid. In any case, when I would pray for something, anything, I would turn my requests over and over in my head like a lawyer trying to construct an air-tight contract. I thought, in my childish brain, that God might try to "answer" my prayer without really answering it. If I didn't get what I wanted, then it was my fault for not asking correctly.
"...what man is there among you who, when his son asks for a loaf, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, he will not give him a snake, will he? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!" -Matthew 7:9-11Modern bread looks nothing like a stone, but the loaves of Jesus' time certainly did. Smooth and round baked in a brick oven it looked every bit like a stone. And a snake in any era is pretty close to a fish. Both are elongated scaly creatures with no limbs. Obviously, Jesus meant to reassure all the little lawyers in His flock that the Father wasn't looking for prayer loopholes.
About five years ago, I received the gift of Multiple Sclerosis. Now I sit in a hotel room in Albany, NY awaiting a treatment tomorrow that might just take it away. Or it might not. I have read the miraculous accounts of patients that felt cured. I have also shared in the disappointment of those who's symptoms did not change. What will be my experience? Will this be the off-ramp from the road to disability, or simply a waste of time and money? God knows what I want and what I am asking for, but tomorrow when this gift is unwrapped what will be inside?
Near the end of John the Baptist's life, while he was wasting away in prison, his disciples came to him to complain that he was losing followers to Jesus, perhaps expecting him to be upset or depressed about his declining popularity. Surely he would have a plan of action!
John answered and said, "A man can receive nothing unless it has been given him from heaven. ... [Jesus] must increase, but I must decrease." - John 3:27, 30John's life was definitely on a downward trend-line with little chance of recovery. Still, he saw the bigger picture and knew that God had a plan and that plan was Jesus.
Whatever God's gift to me tomorrow, I must remember these things:
- God only gives good gifts to His children.
- There is a bigger picture and it is not all about me.
- Jesus must increase, but I must decrease.
...or is it?
"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." -John 3:16
Saturday, May 22, 2010
A Vein Hope
It's been a long time between posts, not because God isn't teaching me anything, but because the recent lessons have been quite hard for me to learn. Most of what I have been going through started back on December 18th of last year when a old friend sent me an e-mail alerting me to a story that had been aired on a Canadian news program about a new treatable condition called Chronic Cerebro-Spinal Venous Insufficiency (CCSVI) that might turn out be the cause of MS.
As of December 18th I had been diagnosed with MS for 4 years and 10 days. Long enough to know what the words "chronic" and "incurable" mean. Long enough to know that the word "hope" was not part of the lexicon. Instead there were words like Rebif, Copaxone and Tysabri: dangerous medications that induce flu-like symptoms and must be delivered regularly with needles. For the lucky, these medicines slow the accumulation of disabilities by a fraction. The unlucky cannot tolerate them. This was the prison that I had settled into for the duration. A place of continual loss. The dungeon of Everworse.
Then comes this news story. A simple procedure to unblock my veins might relieve my MS? The earth shook, walls cracked and light streamed in. I resisted. After all, who wants to be the fool. Maybe this was a hoax. Or maybe not. Perhaps hope had arrived. Hope of escape from Everworse. Hope of better.
The past five months have been a roller-coaster of emotions. A diagnosis and procedure that at first appeared within reach have been elusive due to politics and egos in the medical world. Hope has come and gone several times as I have waited impatiently for the entrenched powers that be to become reluctantly convinced that their world is not as flat as they once supposed. I have prayed and wondered about why. I have wondered about the nature of hope. As all this swirled around in my head, I came across a song that I hadn't heard in a while. The song is by Bob Bennett. The melody is haunting, but it was the words that caught my attention:
I am increasingly convinced that CCSVI is real and that this new medical procedure holds great promise for people with MS. But my hope should have been in the love of God for me and not so quickly dismissed in the presence of suffering and disappointment. Hope should never have become a stranger, as a child of God, hope should have been my constant companion all along.
Now I know that hope in any other thing is just a vein hope.
As of December 18th I had been diagnosed with MS for 4 years and 10 days. Long enough to know what the words "chronic" and "incurable" mean. Long enough to know that the word "hope" was not part of the lexicon. Instead there were words like Rebif, Copaxone and Tysabri: dangerous medications that induce flu-like symptoms and must be delivered regularly with needles. For the lucky, these medicines slow the accumulation of disabilities by a fraction. The unlucky cannot tolerate them. This was the prison that I had settled into for the duration. A place of continual loss. The dungeon of Everworse.
Then comes this news story. A simple procedure to unblock my veins might relieve my MS? The earth shook, walls cracked and light streamed in. I resisted. After all, who wants to be the fool. Maybe this was a hoax. Or maybe not. Perhaps hope had arrived. Hope of escape from Everworse. Hope of better.
The past five months have been a roller-coaster of emotions. A diagnosis and procedure that at first appeared within reach have been elusive due to politics and egos in the medical world. Hope has come and gone several times as I have waited impatiently for the entrenched powers that be to become reluctantly convinced that their world is not as flat as they once supposed. I have prayed and wondered about why. I have wondered about the nature of hope. As all this swirled around in my head, I came across a song that I hadn't heard in a while. The song is by Bob Bennett. The melody is haunting, but it was the words that caught my attention:
Hope Like A Stranger
Hope like a stranger,Hope had definitely been a stranger to me for the last several years. So much so that I did not know how to react to it. But now I had hope! Hope in a new medical procedure to rid me of MS. But as I listened to the lyrics over and over I realized that hope had not been absent for these four years, I had just misplaced it. As a child of God I had lost sight of reality. I had focused my gaze on the walls of my disease-prison. But that was not reality, rather, just a temporary place in space and time. Reality was, and is, God's love for me. God's love is more real than all of my circumstances. God's love is reason to hope.
came to my door.
I was afraid. I was rude.
“What are you coming here for?”
“Have you come to stay,
Or are you just passing through?
I’ve seen your face,
But I do not know you.”
And he said, “You know me,
But I’ve had to remain,
Hidden in the shadows
Of your sorrows and pain.”
“For you have lived your life
As a slave so it seems,
Believing your nightmares
Instead of your dreams.”
Hope like a stranger,
Posed a question like a dare,
“Can you mask the mystery’s of your heart
Pretending not to care?”
“For the thing that you dismissed,
With your cynical facade,
Was the hope that you’d been given,
From the very heart of God.”
“And it drove you in secret,
And you held it close at bay.
And you tried to disown me,
But your not made to be that way.”
“And so I stand here longing,
For no matter where you run,
I will wait like the Father,
Of the prodigal son.”
He said, “Hope by itself,
It can never be an end,
It’s like holding paper money,
That’s impossible to spend.”
“Unless the value is a given,
The bargain’s incomplete.”
Then he showed me the scars,
On his hands and his feet.
I touched his wounds,
As I steadied my nerve.
He said, “I only bear the marks,
Of the Master I serve.”
“And He sends me here to tell you,
I am bound up with Him.
And you’d do well when He comes,
To also let Him in.
Hope like a stranger,
Came to my door.
But He’s risen and He stays,
A stranger no more.
I am increasingly convinced that CCSVI is real and that this new medical procedure holds great promise for people with MS. But my hope should have been in the love of God for me and not so quickly dismissed in the presence of suffering and disappointment. Hope should never have become a stranger, as a child of God, hope should have been my constant companion all along.
"For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."- Romans 8:37-39 (NASB)
Now I know that hope in any other thing is just a vein hope.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Don't Ask, Don't Tell
I heard a great sermon today on grace and truth by our Pastor, Carl Palmer. It was centered around the verse John 1:14:
It made me think of my own situation (Yes, I am horribly self-centered. Why do you think I have a blog?). My Multiple Sclerosis has been a fairly invisible disease so far. Since my diagnosis in December of 2005 you would never know that I was sick just by looking at me. Since I could walk fairly normally there was no need for anyone to know about my condition, nor would they think to ask. It was my little secret and I kept it to myself for the most part.
It was not until last Fall when I felt my deteriorating balance and leg strength finally warranted a cane that my cover was blown. At first I was self-concious about the cane. I felt like everyone was staring at me as I walked around with it. I imagined people's thoughts as they wondered what was wrong with me. People at work, with whom I had already shared my condition, were mildly shocked as for them my disease suddenly became real and tangible. Although I didn't like being thought of as weak and vulnerable, the truth was that is what I was becoming.
As I walked around with my new cane, one thing that was inescapable was how differently people treated me. People started holding the door open for me or insisting I go first off of the elevator. Women were almost embarrassed when I opened a door for them. Because the truth of my weakness had been exposed by my cane, people were giving me more grace.
Bringing my cane to Church was also awkward but necessary as crowds of moving people easily throw off my balance. People who would normally pass by with a smile or a nod suddenly stopped with a look of concern, touched my arm and asked me what had happened. This got me wondering, what if all of our hang-ups and struggles came with such obvious outward signs like my cane. Truthfully, everyone at Church should be walking around with a "cane" of some sort. No one is perfectly healthy and we would all know it. No more pretending. No more secrets. Canes do not lie. Something is wrong with me. Something is wrong with you. Tell me what has happened to you.
Oh, the grace that would abound. How the truth would flow. And the Church would finally be full of it.
"And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth." (NASB)It was a sermon that, at one point, highlighted the fact that Christians can be fairly untruthful. Not that we go around outright lying to everyone. Rather, we withhold the truth about our spiritual struggles and failures. We try to keep up a facade that says all is blessed and beautiful and we think that is what is required in order to give Jesus good PR. While this act succeeds it can be intimidating to others and when it eventually fails (and it always does) it makes us seem disingenuous at best and hypocritical at worst. In the end, the world sees through us and we are definitely "full of it."
It made me think of my own situation (Yes, I am horribly self-centered. Why do you think I have a blog?). My Multiple Sclerosis has been a fairly invisible disease so far. Since my diagnosis in December of 2005 you would never know that I was sick just by looking at me. Since I could walk fairly normally there was no need for anyone to know about my condition, nor would they think to ask. It was my little secret and I kept it to myself for the most part.
It was not until last Fall when I felt my deteriorating balance and leg strength finally warranted a cane that my cover was blown. At first I was self-concious about the cane. I felt like everyone was staring at me as I walked around with it. I imagined people's thoughts as they wondered what was wrong with me. People at work, with whom I had already shared my condition, were mildly shocked as for them my disease suddenly became real and tangible. Although I didn't like being thought of as weak and vulnerable, the truth was that is what I was becoming.
As I walked around with my new cane, one thing that was inescapable was how differently people treated me. People started holding the door open for me or insisting I go first off of the elevator. Women were almost embarrassed when I opened a door for them. Because the truth of my weakness had been exposed by my cane, people were giving me more grace.
Bringing my cane to Church was also awkward but necessary as crowds of moving people easily throw off my balance. People who would normally pass by with a smile or a nod suddenly stopped with a look of concern, touched my arm and asked me what had happened. This got me wondering, what if all of our hang-ups and struggles came with such obvious outward signs like my cane. Truthfully, everyone at Church should be walking around with a "cane" of some sort. No one is perfectly healthy and we would all know it. No more pretending. No more secrets. Canes do not lie. Something is wrong with me. Something is wrong with you. Tell me what has happened to you.
Oh, the grace that would abound. How the truth would flow. And the Church would finally be full of it.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
I've Lost My Donkeys
Whenever people find out I have a blog titled Intentional Platypus the next thing they want to know is, "Why?" As I said in my first post, it is because a Platypus looks like and accident or a hoax. A mix-up of stuff that looks like it belongs somewhere else or to someone else. But just because something looks wrong to us doesn't mean that it is.
Twenty years ago I read a book called Trusting God by Jerry Bridges. As I remember it, the book was an exhaustive Biblical defense of the belief that God was in control of everything. Not just large cosmic events. Not just sweeping historic storylines, but everything that happens to each individual person.
At the time that I read the book, I hadn't really wrestled with this concept. I had just coasted on it since my life had been relatively free from suffering. Subconsciously I guess I would give God credit for the "good" stuff and just chalk the rest of it up to chaos. As they say, "[Stuff] happens." But that Summer some really bad stuff had suddenly come my way and seemingly obliterated all my future plans. As I wallowed in self-pity and confusion, God sent Jerry Bridges book along to remind me that what was happening to me wasn't just the chaos of an impersonal universe, but it was His plan to get me back where I needed to be.
At first I was resistant to the idea. After all, a lot of bad stuff happens to people. But as Mr. Bridges beat me into submission with one Bible passage after another, I finally had to come to grips with a new problem. This God I said I believed in was both the good cop and the bad cop. If God was responsible for the bad stuff too (especially the bad stuff that happened to me), could I still believe that He loved me and had my best interests at heart? It seemed to me that this was the real challenge of faith: not just to simply believe in God's existence, but to accept, trust and obey Him while He allows garbage to rain down on your head.
One of my favorite Bible passages along these lines is not some flowery Psalm or philosophical epistle, but a simple story from first Samuel chapter 9. In this story Saul's father loses his donkeys (chaotic), then Saul goes out to find them but can't (bad), and finally Saul's servant suggests that they spend their last thin quarter of a shekel in a desperate bid to ask Samuel for some advice (worse). Then in verses 15 and 16 God pulls back the curtain to allow us to see that He was the one behind the chaos and badness.
God could have appeared to Saul in a vision and told him to go to the man of God, but He didn't. He could have told Samuel to go find Saul, but He didn't. Instead, he used some lost donkeys. Frustrating? Most definitely. Inefficient? Seems that way. I could speculate and theorize about the why God did it this way, but the truth is that I will never know and likely not even understand His reasoning. Maybe lost donkeys are just His style. What I do know is that God doesn't change, and he is still using everyday things like lost donkeys to move people where he wants them. So the next time you've lost your car keys or your way or are frustrated by life's seeming chaos, just remember that God uses little everyday things to get us where He wants us to be. And being where God wants you is a very good thing. Think of Saul's lost donkeys when you're in the midst of the chaos, and just maybe you can keep from looking like a lost donkey yourself.
Twenty years ago I read a book called Trusting God by Jerry Bridges. As I remember it, the book was an exhaustive Biblical defense of the belief that God was in control of everything. Not just large cosmic events. Not just sweeping historic storylines, but everything that happens to each individual person.
At the time that I read the book, I hadn't really wrestled with this concept. I had just coasted on it since my life had been relatively free from suffering. Subconsciously I guess I would give God credit for the "good" stuff and just chalk the rest of it up to chaos. As they say, "[Stuff] happens." But that Summer some really bad stuff had suddenly come my way and seemingly obliterated all my future plans. As I wallowed in self-pity and confusion, God sent Jerry Bridges book along to remind me that what was happening to me wasn't just the chaos of an impersonal universe, but it was His plan to get me back where I needed to be.
At first I was resistant to the idea. After all, a lot of bad stuff happens to people. But as Mr. Bridges beat me into submission with one Bible passage after another, I finally had to come to grips with a new problem. This God I said I believed in was both the good cop and the bad cop. If God was responsible for the bad stuff too (especially the bad stuff that happened to me), could I still believe that He loved me and had my best interests at heart? It seemed to me that this was the real challenge of faith: not just to simply believe in God's existence, but to accept, trust and obey Him while He allows garbage to rain down on your head.
One of my favorite Bible passages along these lines is not some flowery Psalm or philosophical epistle, but a simple story from first Samuel chapter 9. In this story Saul's father loses his donkeys (chaotic), then Saul goes out to find them but can't (bad), and finally Saul's servant suggests that they spend their last thin quarter of a shekel in a desperate bid to ask Samuel for some advice (worse). Then in verses 15 and 16 God pulls back the curtain to allow us to see that He was the one behind the chaos and badness.
"Now a day before Saul's coming, the LORD had revealed this to Samuel saying, 'About this time tomorrow I will send you a man from the land of Benjamin, and you shall anoint him to be prince over My people Israel; and he will deliver My people from the hand of the Philistines For I have regarded My people, because their cry has come to Me.'" - 1 Samuel 9:15-16 NASB
God could have appeared to Saul in a vision and told him to go to the man of God, but He didn't. He could have told Samuel to go find Saul, but He didn't. Instead, he used some lost donkeys. Frustrating? Most definitely. Inefficient? Seems that way. I could speculate and theorize about the why God did it this way, but the truth is that I will never know and likely not even understand His reasoning. Maybe lost donkeys are just His style. What I do know is that God doesn't change, and he is still using everyday things like lost donkeys to move people where he wants them. So the next time you've lost your car keys or your way or are frustrated by life's seeming chaos, just remember that God uses little everyday things to get us where He wants us to be. And being where God wants you is a very good thing. Think of Saul's lost donkeys when you're in the midst of the chaos, and just maybe you can keep from looking like a lost donkey yourself.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Letter to a Divorcing Brother
Hey Brother,
Okay, as you might have guessed, I heard that you & your wife have decided to divorce. Because I respect you both, there are very few words that adequately describe how crappy this makes me feel. I'm sure that doesn't come close to how bad both of you must feel.
I can still remember the feelings of shame, failure, disappointment, anger, frustration and indignation during a time when the specter of divorce loomed over my own marriage. This was a time when the ocean of hurt and disrespect between my wife & me seemed impossible to cross. Even if I had wanted to reconcile with such a demanding, disrespectful and unreasonable woman, I couldn't see how it could happen. During these dark times certain verses really impacted me:
Was my heart hard? Wasn't she the hard hearted one?
Maybe it wasn't all about me and my happiness? Divorce couldn't possibly be God's will. Perhaps God didn't call me to the mission field or to martyrdom, but simply to keep my marriage together and raise Godly children. But reconciling meant I would have to sacrifice, to deny the things I wanted for myself. Was this what He meant when he said, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me." (Luke 9:23)? Jesus had to choose between obedience to God and following His own desires. I was in my own little Garden of Gethsemane. God was calling me to lose my life, but not for my wife's sake, for His.
These close shaves with divorce were about 8 or 9 years ago when I was having such a hard time at Freightliner with my psycho boss. My career was circling the drain and I was so wrapped up in myself that it is embarrassing to think about now. I started drinking beer every night (I don't even like beer!) and filling my life with distractions. It took the threat of divorce to finally get my attention. I can still remember walking down Beaverton-Hillsdale Highway sobbing and calling on Jesus to help me. I can say now that God answered my call for help, and I have been finding my life ever since. Not where I thought it was, but in a better place that God designed for me.
The name of Jesus is so very powerful. Thousands of years ago the prophet Joel said, "All who call on the name of the Lord will be saved," and I am here to testify to the truth of that statement. God plucked my life and marriage from what I thought was a certainty of divorce, failure and brokenness. I'm telling you my story in the hopes that it will inspire you to call on the name of Jesus and fight tooth and nail for your marriage. Obviously, a marriage takes two people, desiring to follow God, in order to succeed. Because of this you may not win. But in the end you can say that you fought the good fight.
Know that I love you both and that I am praying for you.
Your Brother,
Randall
Okay, as you might have guessed, I heard that you & your wife have decided to divorce. Because I respect you both, there are very few words that adequately describe how crappy this makes me feel. I'm sure that doesn't come close to how bad both of you must feel.
I can still remember the feelings of shame, failure, disappointment, anger, frustration and indignation during a time when the specter of divorce loomed over my own marriage. This was a time when the ocean of hurt and disrespect between my wife & me seemed impossible to cross. Even if I had wanted to reconcile with such a demanding, disrespectful and unreasonable woman, I couldn't see how it could happen. During these dark times certain verses really impacted me:
"Because of your hardness of heart Moses allowed you to divorce your wives; but from the beginning it has not been this way." -Matthew 19:8
Was my heart hard? Wasn't she the hard hearted one?
"Another thing you do: You flood the LORD's altar with tears. You weep and wail because He no longer pays attention to your offerings or accepts them with pleasure from your hands. You ask, 'Why?' It is because the LORD is acting as the witness between you and the wife of your youth, because you have broken faith with her, though she is your partner, the wife of your marriage covenant. Has not the LORD made them one? In flesh and spirit they are his. And why one? Because he was seeking godly offspring. So guard yourself in your spirit, and do not break faith with the wife of your youth. "I hate divorce," says the LORD God of Israel ... So guard yourself in your spirit, and do not break faith." -Malachi 2:13-16
Maybe it wasn't all about me and my happiness? Divorce couldn't possibly be God's will. Perhaps God didn't call me to the mission field or to martyrdom, but simply to keep my marriage together and raise Godly children. But reconciling meant I would have to sacrifice, to deny the things I wanted for myself. Was this what He meant when he said, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me." (Luke 9:23)? Jesus had to choose between obedience to God and following His own desires. I was in my own little Garden of Gethsemane. God was calling me to lose my life, but not for my wife's sake, for His.
"Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." -Matthew 10:39
These close shaves with divorce were about 8 or 9 years ago when I was having such a hard time at Freightliner with my psycho boss. My career was circling the drain and I was so wrapped up in myself that it is embarrassing to think about now. I started drinking beer every night (I don't even like beer!) and filling my life with distractions. It took the threat of divorce to finally get my attention. I can still remember walking down Beaverton-Hillsdale Highway sobbing and calling on Jesus to help me. I can say now that God answered my call for help, and I have been finding my life ever since. Not where I thought it was, but in a better place that God designed for me.
The name of Jesus is so very powerful. Thousands of years ago the prophet Joel said, "All who call on the name of the Lord will be saved," and I am here to testify to the truth of that statement. God plucked my life and marriage from what I thought was a certainty of divorce, failure and brokenness. I'm telling you my story in the hopes that it will inspire you to call on the name of Jesus and fight tooth and nail for your marriage. Obviously, a marriage takes two people, desiring to follow God, in order to succeed. Because of this you may not win. But in the end you can say that you fought the good fight.
Know that I love you both and that I am praying for you.
Your Brother,
Randall
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