Author: Kevin Sherman

We’ve all had days of trouble, where our circumstances seem to be whispering in our ear, “Where is your good God? Where is this healer you pray to?” We were in our 58th day of trouble by now. Every time we saw a victory of any kind, chaos was waiting around the corner. Things had smoothed out a little and the next day was a good one for Becky. She was feeling rested and seemed to have a clearer mind. It was Friday, September 11th. Due to the restrictions still being in place, I was not allowed to visit her again. I wondered how long it would be before I could visit her on a daily basis. 

That evening, there was a conference going on at our church and I went to it. Being in that atmosphere of worshipping together with others is like medicine to a weary soul. Our church family was still reeling from the passing of Micah Traylor just a few weeks earlier, a six year old boy who had battled cancer for a year and a half. I’ve known his entire family for over 21 years. It was painful to tell Becky about it. We had prayed fervently for his healing and she had shed many tears in the process. Also, in March, I had personally lost a co-worker friend of mine I had known for 15 years due to a stroke, and in April a cousin. She was just a few months older than me.

About 45 minutes into our worship time, I received a text from Tammy: “Please pray for Rick. The boys are taking him to the emergency room. He can’t breathe.” I quickly shifted from worship and adoration to intercession. A little while later, my son, Brian, who was sitting next to me, showed me a message he had just received from Colton, one of Rick and Tammy’s sons, that Rick had gone to be with the Lord. “What!?,” I silently mouthed to him. In shock and disbelief, we both got up and walked out into the foyer. We stood there dumbfounded. 

Soon, a couple of others who were concerned about us joined us and we all stood there in shock. All I can remember anyone saying was, “what is going on”? I felt like death was mocking us with those same words again, “Where is your good God? Where is this healer you pray to?” I thought of Tammy and their entire family and what they must have been going through. “How could I tell Becky?” I thought. After all, her and Tammy were best friends. I knew I couldn’t tell her right away and didn’t until about a week later. I know that she wanted so bad to be able to be there to comfort Tammy but couldn’t. It was heartbreaking, to say the least. Later that evening at the conference, a word came forth from Marty Gabler declaring, “Becky is coming home!” As a church body we began to declare it on a regular basis.

By this time, Becky had tested negative for COVID-19 but officially there were still no visitors permitted. The next day was fairly uneventful as far as Becky was concerned, but things were about to change again when Sunday rolled around. Instead of attending church that morning I decided to go to the Ruckers’ home and be with them. My son, Nathan, had told me that their entire family was gathering and he was going over there to be with them. My heart was broken for that family and I knew I had to be with them. 

While I was there, my phone rang around 11:45 AM. It was the floor supervisor informing me that they were going to have to transfer Becky back to Methodist. She was progressively getting more agitated and confused, mainly due to the severe urinary tract infection. I asked him if there was any way I could come down there and be with her before they moved her, knowing that once she was back at Methodist it would be impossible due to their strict no visitor policy. He said, “sure, come on down”. I got there as fast as I could.

When I walked into her room I immediately noticed that they had restrained her hands to the bed because she had become so delirious and agitated that she tried to pull her oxygen tubes out of her nose.

Her sweet nurse gave me some gloves to wear so I could hold her hand. I was appreciative of her kindness but I had already made up my mind to hold her hand, gloves or not. They had her sedated, which kept her from talking much but the most important thing was just being able to be with her, loving on her, praying, and comforting her. I spent almost five hours with her before the ambulance arrived to transport her back to Methodist. I followed her all the way out to the ambulance and watched as they drove off. I wondered how long it would be until I could see her again.

The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble, and He knows those who trust in Him. (Nahum 1:7)

“The Lord is good” had become a stronghold in my mind and it helped me to stave off fear and discouragement on my drive home that night. The battle wasn’t going away, but the fear was. When I arrived home I called the hospital to check on her .Her nurse told me the transfer had been smooth and Becky was resting. Then, I couldn’t believe my ears when she asked me,

“Will you be coming to visit her tomorrow?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will you be coming here tomorrow?”

“You mean, I can do that?”

“Sure, one designated visitor is allowed per patient.”

“How long can I stay?”

“You can stay all day, as long as you’re out of here by 9 PM.”

I was thrilled that I would finally get to be with her every day, but it was tempered by the fact that the rest of our family, especially our sons, would not be able to visit her. It had been almost two months since they had seen her, other than facetime. Modern technology is great but it is a poor replacement for actually being there. The next couple of days were rough, as the raging urinary tract infection had caused some delirium to come over her, which is sometimes a side effect.  They were pumping a heavy dose of antibiotics into her and by the third day she had improved. She was still on a high dosage of oxygen however, as her breathing had not improved. 

Now that the infection was starting to clear up, it seemed to lift her spirits that I was there with her now. I could speak with all the doctors and even help the nurses from time to time. On the fourth day Physical Therapy decided it was time to work towards getting her up and out of bed to at least be able to sit in a chair and then eventually to walk some. The goal was to be able to move her back to the LTAC facility for long term rehab and then eventually to go home. This gave me some extra hope. I had even read some stories of people who had been hospitalized longer than her and even on ventilators who had made miraculous turnarounds.

Physical therapy came every day and at least different times were able to get her sitting on the side of the bed with support. Each time they tried to get her to stand up, her oxygen saturation level would drop drastically, she would panic, and then the session would be over. I tried to be the best cheerleader possible and pushed her to try as hard as she could but she couldn’t get any further. Over the next few days, some of her numbers began to look a little better and the decision was made to move her back to Cornerstone (LTAC). I was able to spend eleven days by her side. Most days I was there at least 11 hours. Now she was back at the LTAC and their visitor policy had changed some too, but it was a little more restrictive, only allowing me to come every other day for a couple hours at a time. I didn’t like it but it was better than nothing at all. She had been hospitalized for 72 days but I still believed that someway, somehow, she was going to get through all of this and eventually come back home. She was a fighter and an overcomer. It had been said of her by several of our friends that she was like a cat with nine lives.

The Apostle Paul spoke of a “peace that passes all understanding”. I experienced that practically every day. I can’t tell you how, except to say that I began every day by simply putting my trust in the One whose mercy endures forever. Goodness and mercy followed me into that hospital every single time. I experienced the goodness of God in the midst of things that were not good. I understood that my trust had to be in Christ more than it was in any particular outcome. I had to trust the assurance that He, The Word made flesh, dwelt in me and with me. Like everyone else, I had questions that I wanted answers to. More importantly though, I knew at the end of every day that the Answer had me.

To be continued….

I have always been a morning person. That’s just the way I’m wired. I can remember, as a young boy, waking up at the crack of dawn on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons on TV. Looney Tunes, to be precise. To this day, one of my unfulfilled childhood dreams was to see the coyote catch that smart aleck roadrunner just once! Never happened. I can remember my mother coming to the door of the living room, sleepy-eyed, after hearing the turned up television volume, giving me that “Why can’t you sleep in like the rest of us?” look.

I love mornings. It is the time of day when I can hear God the clearest. It’s quiet and I have my coffee. Thank you Jesus for good coffee, dark roast, black, undiluted and unpolluted. 

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, therefore I will hope in Him. (Lamentations 3:22-24 ESV) I have always been fascinated with this passage of scripture. If you are like me, you’ve had nights when you’ve climbed into bed wishing you could have a do-over of the day. We had a bad attitude, complained, snapped at someone, or just didn’t put our best foot forward. It is refreshing to know that there are new mercies and a fresh start awaiting me when I get out of bed in the morning.In her book, Switch On Your Brain, neuroscientist Dr. Caroline Leaf says “…every morning when you wake up, new baby nerve cells have been born while you were sleeping that are there at your disposal to be used in tearing down toxic thoughts and rebuilding healthy thoughts.” Wow!

Isn’t that just like God in His goodness to do that for us, giving us another opportunity to build new healthy thoughts? Micah 7:18 says He delights in mercy. He doesn’t do it because He has to. He does it because He wants to! Every night, as I got ready for bed, I would remind myself of the new mercies he had promised to me, not knowing what the next day would hold. Peaceful sleep would come. As I look back on it now, I am in complete amazement. I needed those new mercies to walk down the path that lay ahead of us.

The day after Becky arrived at the medical center, she was administered a drug that had been successful in other patients in reducing inflammation in the lungs. This gave me some more hope, but it was going to take some time. The next few days and weeks were like a roller coaster ride of emotions. One day she would seem to be improving and the next day was a step backwards. Practically all the nurses who took care of her were excellent. They were compassionate and attentive to detail. There was one exception, however. Becky had been having a very difficult day. While the nurse was attending to her, Becky asked her if she would hold her hand. The nurse answered in an irritated tone, “Sorry, I don’t do that”. Maybe the nurse was having a bad day, I don’t know. That evening, when we talked on the phone, she told me about the incident. Then she said through tears, “I wish you were here to hold my hand”. It was gut-wrenching to hear and I was heartbroken. I felt helpless. She needed me there by her side and I couldn’t be. I prayed and released the peace of God over her.

One of the reasons I told you about the incident was to highlight the isolation and separation that hospital and nursing home patients were having to deal with during this time. Imagine yourself in a hospital bed alone with not one family member or friend permitted to come in. Even the chaplains have to stand outside the window and talk to the patient by phone and the nurse and doctor who come in the room are wearing masks, keeping you from seeing a smile or facial expression. Anxiety, depression, and covid psychosis sets in, not to mention the difficulty in breathing.

It seemed like things had improved a little with her condition and on September 3rd she was discharged from Methodist Hospital and moved to Cornerstone Hospital, a long term acute care facility about a mile away.

Presence

God can be very sneaky sometimes, at least from our perspective. On the evening she was moved to Cornerstone I received a call from her, telling me that the EMTs who came to transport her had left her bag of belongings back at Methodist. She had been told that the only way to retrieve it would be for me to come down there and get it myself. Without hesitation, I jumped in the car and made the 50 minute drive to the medical center in Houston. It’s normally about a 55 minute drive but I was on a mission, knowing how things can get lost in hospitals. I was able to retrieve the bag and then drove about a mile down the street to Cornerstone. I parked the car and walked into the lobby where I was met by a large, tall African American man in scrubs standing there next to the Covid regulations sign. I told him I was there to drop off Rebecca Sherman’s bag. He asked me which room she was in and I told him. Then he nonchalantly said “Go ahead and take it up there”. “Excuse me?”, I said. “You can take it up there”. “Are you sure?” “Sure, go ahead”.

“Is this really happening?” I thought to myself. I assumed I would have to leave it at the nurse’s station and go no further. I was in for a huge surprise! I got to the desk and told them why I was there and the head nurse said, “take it over there to her room but you can only stand at the door and look in”. “Thank you”, my voice already quivering. I walked over to the door and said “Honey, I’m here!” We looked at each other and immediately tears filled our eyes. I was allowed to stay there a couple of minutes six feet from her bed. I can’t even remember what we said to each other but it didn’t matter. After nearly eight weeks of separation I was present in the same room with her and it was glorious! The nurse told me it was time to leave so I pulled my mask down, gave Becky an air kiss and an “I love you”.

As I walked or possibly floated back to the elevator and down to the lobby, it was as if I had been given a shot of hope-filled adrenaline. When I stepped off the elevator into the lobby, I wanted to thank the man who had let me go up to her floor but he was gone and a woman had taken his place. There are things that make you go hmmmm. He knows just what we need and when we need it. There was something about my unexpected presence there that did something wonderful for her and I both, even if it was for only a couple of minutes. There were many times throughout our trip across this deep valley that I would feel His presence so strong and it would be at the most unexpected times. We were traveling through uncharted territory. I’ve heard the Bible referred to as a manual and I read it every day, but God gave us Emmanuel! I had the word to look into but The Word (Himself) had me! 

There was so much of the unknown that we lived with daily during this entire ordeal. This coronavirus was so new that it felt almost like Becky was a guinea pig. It seemed like every few days a doctor or nurse would call me to get my permission to try some kind of treatment. Feeling a sense of desperation, I would say “yes, go ahead.” What did we have to lose?

The decision to move her to Cornerstone gave us some hope. For the most part, the purpose of a long term acute care facility is to begin the process of rehabilitation to the point of getting the patient well enough to go back home. Becky had already been in the hospital 51 days. “That is long enough!” I thought. “Finally, we’re getting near the end of this nightmare”. Things were about to get more chaotic, though.

On Sunday morning, two days after she arrived at Cornerstone, I got a phone call from her at 6:00 AM. She told me she had not slept at all that night due to a light above her bed that wouldn’t turn off. I immediately called the nurse supervisor and she said maintenance was coming to fix it. Something in Becky’s voice didn’t seem right though. At 7:30 the doctor called and said he was very concerned about Becky’s anxiety. He said the long period of separation was to blame for it. “I think you need to come down here and spend a little time with her,” he said. “Will they let me do that?” “I think your chances are pretty good,” he said. I got ready as fast as I could and drove down there. I spent 45 minutes with her before I was told I had to leave. I must have said “thank you, Lord” a hundred times on the drive back home! The next day, the doctor called and told me she looked much better. He told me he believed it was because I had come to see her. 

Becky had developed a bad urinary tract infection during these few days and it caused her to have some mental confusion and disorientation that set in on the evening of September 9th. At 3:30 the following morning I was startled awake by my phone ringing. It was Becky. She sounded like she was having a nervous breakdown. Nothing I could say to her or pray seemed to help. I decided I was not going to go to work that day but instead, make the drive down to the hospital and ask them to let me see her. It was a risk but I knew I had to be with her. Before I left, our good friend, Tammy, called me and said Becky had called her earlier that morning and simply said “rally prayer”. Tammy and I prayed over the phone and I could hear her husband Rick praying in agreement with us in the background. 

The drive to downtown Houston seemed like it took forever. I worshipped and prayed in the Spirit for practically the entire trip. By the time I parked and made my way into the hospital lobby the peace of God had enveloped me. He is the Prince of Peace and He is so good!

Because of her emotional state, mental confusion, and the extreme anxiety she was experiencing, I was graciously allowed to spend 45 minutes with her again. Although supernatural peace had come over me, I couldn’t see much of a change in her while I was there but I was told later that she slept most of the day after I had left, which was a gift from heaven. I was thankful for this lull in the storm but there were more rough waters ahead.

To be continued…

I have had many opportunities in my lifetime for discouragement to take hold of me and pin me to the floor like a wrestler would. The night of July 14, 2020 was one of those. Becky had tested positive for COVID-19 a few days earlier and her symptoms had gradually worsened. Having lived with a compromised immune system for eighteen years since receiving a liver transplant in 2002, it was not unusual for her to be on antibiotics for various infections and illnesses, although for the most part she had experienced a good quality of life.

The year 2020 was an unusually rough year for her as she battled one ailment after the other, resulting in 4 and 5 day long hospital stays in January and June. Not to mention that she also broke her shoulder in March. It seemed that she could never quite recover from one before another would hit her. On that night in mid-July she began struggling to breathe and it was time to drive her to the ER at Methodist Hospital in The Woodlands, Texas. The pandemic was already in full swing and I knew that I would not be permitted to go in with her. When I kissed her goodbye and watched them take her away in the wheelchair, it was as if an arrow with “discouragement” written on it had been shot right through my heart. I parked my SUV and sat there with the motor and AC running, numb and feeling like my faith had been sucked right out of me. In all her hospital stays through the years I was in there with her, holding her hand, praying, reassuring her and being her advocate to make sure she received the best care possible. Not this time, though. I had no idea what was going on in there. A feeling of helplessness like I had never felt before came over me. I called on the name of Jesus and played worship music. I texted and called family and a few dear friends for prayer support.

Let me just say that, with the exception of surgery, there should never be a time when a family member is not allowed to be with a patient, pandemic or not. Never. Ok, I’ll step off of my soapbox now.

After sitting in the parking lot for a while, peace settled over me and I have to believe it did for Becky too. I know that it was the prayers of the saints and me being reminded of God’s goodness and faithfulness to us over and over through the years. We had experienced His intervention so many times and felt His presence while literally walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Becky had received a liver transplant eighteen years earlier with death knocking on the door. A few weeks before that, she laid in a coma for three days due to encephalopathy, needing a miracle. Two dear friends of ours went to the hospital and into the ICU at 1:00 AM to pray for her. Her best friend, Tammy, got up on the bed face to face with Becky and, by the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead, commanded her to come out of that coma. She did, three hours later! As I sat there waiting, I reminded myself of these things and told my soul to bless the Lord.

Oh, the benefits of meditation! I began the practice of meditating on the Word of God 40 years ago after hearing a great man of God, Campbell McAlpine, preach and teach about it. Countless times since then I have faced situations where the Holy Spirit has brought to my mind the words of the Lord I had digested through the years. This would prove to be a priceless treasure over the following four months.

I am more convinced of the goodness of God than I’ve ever been. Good is not only what God does, it is simply who He is. Something happens to me that I can’t explain when I intentionally meditate on His goodness. Perhaps it is what Apostle Paul called “the peace of God, which passes all understanding”.

“Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good! For His mercy endures forever.” (Psalm 136:1)

Say that out loud to yourself twenty or thirty times a day and see what happens to your soul. I did it every day. I can completely trust in Him when I know He is good and His mercy endures forever. One morning I wrote about this verse in my journal: “It is right and proper to give thanks for the good things we have received, but the purest form of thanksgiving is the giving of thanks for He is good. We thank Him for who He is, for goodness is the very essence of His being”. The NASB says “His lovingkindness is everlasting”! Jesus said He would never leave us or forsake us. David said, “Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there: If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there”. (Psalm 139:7-8)

When I meditate on these truths, it creates an awareness of His presence. If you feel distant from God, He is not the culprit. God is omnipresent–in other words, there is no place He is not. Our awareness of God is the problem.

The next morning brought new challenges that would test my patience and my trust in God’s goodness, from texting and calling Becky’s phone and getting no response to calling the ER (where she was still waiting on a hospital bed), being put on hold for 10 minutes and then finally speaking to the charge nurse only to be questioned by her as to whether I was really Rebecca Sherman’s husband. I hate not knowing! Anger was welling up inside me at this point. Was it righteous anger? Yes, but I remembered the words of Paul the apostle – “Be angry and sin not”. I like to think that means “be angry when you see injustice being done but remember Who you belong to”. I would be tested on this many times in the weeks to come. I thought about how compassionate and patient the Lord has been with me. The love and compassion I had for my beautiful bride had to be weighed on the scales with compassion for the hospital staff who were having to deal with mandates from high places along with the changes and challenges of this uncharted territory called The COVID-19 Pandemic.

About 36 hours after being in the ER she was finally moved to a room in CCU (critical care) which is a step below ICU. By this time I had been able to communicate with her several times by text and talking. She had been placed on oxygen immediately upon arrival at the hospital and would never be taken off of it.

To throw another twist into the story, I began having symptoms of COVID myself a few days after she went into the hospital. Thank God my case was no worse than a moderate case of the flu, with mild fever and, most annoying to me, the loss of taste and smell. In a week’s time I was feeling better and in recovery mode. About a week later I woke up abruptly around 2:15 AM in a very restless state. It literally felt like something was trying to take my breath away. I was having strange pains in my chest and left lung and what felt like spasms. I knew in my spirit that this was demonic in nature. I had recovered from COVID and had been feeling pretty good. I began praying in my prayer language (tongues) and then in English I told it to leave in Jesus’ name. After a minute or two more, it was gone and never came back. It was then that I knew we were dealing with something on a different level than anything we had faced before.

I would like to say here how thankful I am for my family, friends, and the body of Christ (His Church). There were multiple groups of people (possibly thousands), besides the four different group texts I had going, who prayed faithfully for us every day. We could literally feel it and I will forever be grateful. There were so many times we would receive scriptures, prayers, words of encouragement, songs and pictures via text, messenger, or voice mail at just the right time. God is so amazing! There is a small group of men that I have been praying with every weekday morning at my church since November of 2019. What a lifeline they have been to me!

Becky spent two weeks at Methodist Woodlands. They had done all they were capable of doing and the decision was made to move her to Methodist in Houston where she could receive more specialized care. This gave me some hope that, finally, we could see some light at the end of this dark tunnel. I was oblivious to all that lay ahead of us.

…to be continued.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve written a blog, so here I am doing one. The lack of published blogs on my part hasn’t been due to a lack of material. In fact I’ve got so much material that sometimes I don’t even know where to start. I’ve just gone through the absolute hardest year of my life. I feel like the fog has somewhat lifted enough where I can share with you some of my thoughts on this past season that I have endured. Since this time last year, I have personally lost 8 people who were friends or relatives of mine. Not all of the loss was due to the pandemic. In fact, most of the deaths were not related to the pandemic at all. Some were sudden and unexpected and others were due to lengthy illnesses.

The purpose of this blog is not to gain your sympathy but rather to give you a glimpse into my thoughts and how I am processing all of this in an attempt to help others who may be dealing with their own loss. This will be a series of three or four blogs and, for all I know, could turn into a book. On November 16th 2020 my wife Becky, the love of my life, went to be with Jesus. She was only 62 years old. She contracted covid-19 in July and spent four months in the hospital. I’ve experienced grief many times throughout my life, but never like this. It has been only six months since her death, so I am certainly not an expert on how to handle the grief process of losing a spouse, but for the sake of others hopefully I can bring you some encouragement.

The purpose of writing this blog is an attempt to help others who may be dealing with grief themselves, but this blog is not going to help you much if you don’t think in terms of eternity. By the way, eternity doesn’t begin the moment you die. Eternity has no beginning because God has no beginning. Naturally, I think about heaven much more now since she has passed. Let me clarify that – I don’t mean that I think about heaven in terms of an escape from this life. I do indeed look forward to that day when I’ll pass from this realm into that next realm but beyond that, I’m becoming more and more aware of just how thin that veil is between this realm that is visibly seen and that which is mostly unseen.

There is a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us (Hebrews 12:1) and I believe that cloud is made up of all who have gone before us who lived a life of faith. I won’t take the time to elaborate on that right now so I’ll leave it with you to meditate on. Becky was faithful to the Lord Jesus and I believe she is in that cloud. I believe the ones who are in that cloud are cheering us on every day of our lives. I take great comfort in that and it gives me courage also. I was brought up in a culture that mostly believed that heaven was far off somewhere and we are down here and it seems like most people still think that way. Jesus tells us that the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand, or in other words it is within reach. I have found myself on occasion lamenting the fact that Becky will not be around to see certain events take place such as our granddaughter growing up. However, knowing the goodness of our God, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit that he just might allow her to look in on certain events taking place in our lives.

I prayed, believed, and declared that we would once again witness the healing and restorative power of Christ and my dear Becky would get up out of that hospital bed and come back home to me. We had seen it time and time again. A couple of friends had even said that she was like a cat with nine lives. It had happened before and it was going to happen again…until it didn’t. She didn’t get out of the bed and she didn’t come home to me.

Bill Johnson says, “The walk of faith is to live according to the revelations we have received in the midst of the mysteries we can’t
explain.” I can’t explain why we didn’t get the outcome we prayed for. What I do know is that I came out of this valley shadowed by death with a deeper revelation of how much He loves me and Him being ever present. I am more keenly aware of His love than I was before. It makes no sense when I try to understand it logically. It is to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge (Ephesians 3:19).

When Jesus taught his disciples how to pray, using what we now refer to as The Lord’s Prayer, he said to pray give us this day our daily bread. I began a practice years ago of getting up a little extra early every morning and spending some time with the Lord. Jesus tells us that He is the bread which has come down from heaven (John 6). He has become the bread that I crave first thing every morning. I call my time with Him “sitting with Jesus.” Most of the time I worship, pray, read some scripture, sit quietly and listen, then I usually write down my thoughts or a passage. Sometimes I will take myself through an intentional season of mind renewal. I will usually spend at least 21 days replacing an old negative thought with a new positive thought. For example, Holy Spirit revealed to me that I had a toxic thought that “I and others who fail are unworthy of love and deserve to be punished”. I won’t take time to tell you the many ways that thought manifested in my life and relationships with others but I’ll just say it wasn’t pretty. I knew that I had to eliminate it, so the thought that I replaced it with was “I and others are always the object of his love”.

During the time of Becky’s illness and after her passing I’ve had many people say things like “I don’t know how you made it through all of that”! I don’t know either! All I know is that every morning I had to start my day by letting Him love me and then making it my mission to love her, whether on the phone with her (even that was extremely limited at times) during quarantine or being at her bedside when I could.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?
(Romans 8:35 NASB)

To be continued…

I turned on the TV news the other day and was abruptly reminded why I seldom watch it anymore. Fear, panic, public events being cancelled, toilet paper and other supplies flying off the shelves of stores. Social media was filled with every kind of conspiracy theory you can imagine. Of course, those are always floating around, but now they’ve multiplied exponentially. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to throw another one of those at you. As I write this, I’ll assume that most of the readers claim to be followers of Christ from a wide variety of churches and denominations. 

There is a pandemic right now that is far worse than any virus. It should be obvious to us that there is a spirit of fear attempting to grip our minds. I could throw some ideas out there as to who is behind the fear-mongering, but it doesn’t really matter. What matters is our response to it. Most of us are familiar with 2 Timothy 1:7, “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.”  Self-control? Yes! God has given us the ability to control ourselves in such a way that we get to choose how we respond to any situation or crisis. I suspect that the enemy of our souls would have us respond to this current COVID-19 threat with fear and panic.

I can hear some folks right now saying, “yes, but we have to use common sense right now.” Of course. When has washing your hands and covering your mouth when you cough or sneeze not been the thing to do? But, should churches be closing their doors? No. Some of you may disagree with me on that one, but I believe there is biblical precedent for it. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the early church as we see it in the book of Acts. Certainly they lived in a time where the world looked much different than today, but there are some parallels. 

The one parallel that stands out is that they were faced with threats. It was a time of awe and wonder as signs, wonders, and miracles were happening. There are several references to the fear of the Lord coming upon them as the healings and miracles increased.

They were constantly facing threats from the government and un-believing religious leaders to throw them in jail. Some were even being beaten, stoned or killed. One particular instance speaks volumes to me and should be a call to us in our day to respond in the same manner. Peter and John had just been arrested and kept in jail overnight for preaching the gospel and healing the lame man at the temple gate. As they were being released they were threatened. What was the response of the church to those threats? “So now, Lord, listen to their threats to harm us. Empower us, as your servants, to speak the word of God freely and courageously. Stretch out your hand of power through us to heal, and to move in signs and wonders by the name of your holy Son, Jesus!”(Acts 4:29-30 TPT) Though their threat was a little different than ours (in America), it still involves a response to a threat.

We have an opportunity to respond according to faith instead of fear. It’s time for us to let the Holy Spirit baptize us with the fire and boldness seen in the first century church. In the words of songwriter and singer Nathan Isaacs, “What if we are the awakening we’ve been waiting for?” 

We love to talk about giants being defeated, don’t we? I don’t know about you, but I’ve heard so many sermons on David and Goliath with its numerous allegories, symbols and prophetic significance that it can make my head spin! Well, this blog post is not about that story, but it is about a misconception concerning God and myself that had the proverbial rock of revelation hit it right between the eyes and drop it stone cold dead.

Right at this moment I am looking back over a journal I kept a few years ago as I began to rid my mind of some wrong ideas I had about God and His relationship with me. Toxic thinking was what I called it at the time.

I won’t go into detail what each toxic thought was, but I discovered one underlying theme: I didn’t really believe God was good, at least not the Father. Jesus was good. The Holy Spirit was good, but in my mind the Father, Almighty God seated on His throne, was angry and needed to be appeased. I had been taught most of my life that Jesus stood between me and the Father and took a beating from his Father on behalf of me (perhaps I’ll discuss this concept at another time). I had no problem believing that, because I had a very angry father as a child.

Needless to say, this concept of God seemed confusing to me when I would try to understand the Trinity. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Godhead three-in-one. I simply couldn’t wrap my head around it. I believed they were one because the bible said so and if the bible said so it was true. I had been taught that while Jesus was hanging on the cross, the Father had to turn His face away from His Son because He couldn’t look upon sin. He had to separate Himself from His own Son. (I guess the eternal Godhead was broken up!). This whole dogma was drawn from a scripture in Psalm 22:1, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus was actually quoting David and expressing a human emotion of feeling forsaken. The entire chapter is a prophetic picture of the crucifixion. Psalm 22:24 declares, “For He has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted; nor has He hidden His face from Him; but when He cried to Him, He heard.” This theme is carried over into the next Psalm, the all familiar 23^rd Psalm: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.

He never forsook His son. How could He? Father, Son and Spirit are one. Besides that, He is good! Would a good Father ever abandon his son? Would you or I ever abandon one of our own children? I would hope not. Are we better than God? Could the love we have for our own kids ever come close to His love for His own? Never!

I remember many years ago hearing a preacher say “God is good” and then several members of the congregation would say “All the time!” Now, it has become a common saying. When you consider that good isn’t just something God does, but it is who He is, then even having to say “all the time” seems rather redundant, doesn’t it. It would be like me saying “I am Kevin” and you responding with “all the time!”

“God is good” is becoming my default setting even when I see or experience things that scream mockingly in my face “see, how can you say He’s good?” How can I say He is good? Because He never leaves me. This is another great revelation that has completely changed the way I see things now. He is always with me. I can now look back on every traumatic event or foolish decision in my entire life and see that He was with me. He never left me. “Where can I go from your Spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend into heaven, you are there; If I make my bed in hell, behold, you are there.” (Psalm 139:7-8) I dare you to meditate on that one for a few weeks and see if your outlook on life doesn’t change!

As His kingdom expands on this earth, I am seeing more and more of His goodness on display every day. Never in the history of mankind since the fall, has there been more goodness in the world as there is now. My Father is good.

It is so critical that we take note of toxic thoughts that influence the way we see the world. For me, I had to stop watching cable news and stop listening to talk radio. It has been almost two years since I made that decision and I haven’t regretted it. I’m beginning to see that there is so much more goodness around me than I ever believed there was. I’m even starting to love the very people they told me I should hate! After all, God is Love, right? He is also good.

I encourage you to let “God is good” become more than just another cliché that you throw out there every time something works in your favor. Let it be the thought at the forefront of your mind so that everything you hear, see, and experience is filtered through that thought.

He is good!

Becoming a grandparent will change your life. That’s what they used to tell us and now that we’re experiencing it ourselves, we understand what they must have meant. There are certain things I see as I watch our granddaughter Norah grow, that I didn’t seem to take notice of when my children were that age. She’s sixteen months old as I write this. We have four sons, all adults now. Our first three were all born close together, which is why it was probably harder at that time to step back and savor certain moments.

One such moment occurred a few weeks ago when I found myself somewhat frustrated that Norah wouldn’t come to me but would so readily go to my wife and a few other folks. As she turned away from me when I put my arms out, I scooped her up and said, “Let’s go outside!” Her entire demeanor changed as we stepped out on the back porch. It was as if we had walked into another world. Suddenly, the little girl who resisted my attempts to hold her was content to be with me as I held her hand walking through the back yard. She was in a state of pure delight as she jabbered unintelligible words with a couple of “Pawpaws” thrown in here and there.

She picked up acorns and leaves, studying each one before gleefully looking for something else. She would break away from me sometimes to explore something else, yet ever so aware that I was still with her. Suddenly, I became acutely aware of the presence of God. I heard that familiar, still-small voice inside me say, “This is what my Kingdom looks like.” My eyes began to well up with tears as I felt foolish for the frustration I had experienced just minutes before. I was reminded of things Jesus had said in the gospels about little children and the kingdom.

One such reference is in Luke 18:15-17, “Then they also brought infants to Him that He might touch them; but when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to Him and said, ‘Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of God. Assuredly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it.’ ”

I watched her pick up an acorn and study it as she turned it in her hand, looking at every angle. An object that I had come to see as a nuisance because our porch and yard are covered with them this time of year, filled her with wonder. I personally believe that children come out of the womb with an innate ability to see God in everything. As they grow older, often times they learn to not see things this way. They learn cynicism from us adults and adopt our dualistic thinking.

How would my whole outlook on life change if I could regain that sense of holy wonder that I had as a little child?

What if I could come back to a place where I could see God in everything? In everybody?

How would my life change if I could learn true contentment?

It might not necessarily change the circumstances around me, but it would certainly change the way I see them. For when we see through the eyes of a child, the wonder of all that God has created becomes more alive to us than we could ever imagine.

I pray that as you and I begin this New Year, we’ll allow the cynicism and negativity that can weigh us down to fall off like scales from our eyes. We might be surprised at how we’ll learn to see the vastness and beauty of God’s kingdom. It’s everywhere. Let us become more aware of His presence with us all the time. Let’s learn to enjoy Him in everything we experience. May your New Year be filled with joy!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll step out on the back porch and study an acorn or two. Happy New Year!

The advance of social media has had a greater impact on culture than anything else I can remember in my lifetime. It has brought us together as far as common knowledge goes, but it has bitterly divided us like nothing else. I have Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter accounts. All of these give us a platform, if you will, to let our opinions be known. Or, just a place for cute pictures. For every heart-warming post, I see ten political posts. And then there are those annoying “copy and paste” ones that I completely skip over now. I guess those are the equivalent of those old “If you’re not ashamed of Jesus you’ll forward this to 20 others” emails. If you have a lot of time on your hands you can join in a good old political or theological debate. Facebook and Twitter are the place to be for these if you dare to jump in, although it doesn’t take a lot of courage to hide behind your smart phone or computer to do that.

Last time I checked, I had 745 “friends” on Facebook. I’ve had an actual face to face, ear to ear conversation with no more than 15 percent of them in the past 10 years. Many of those other “friends” I’ve never once met. It is practically impossible for me to have a meaningful conversation with 745 people who are scattered literally around the globe.

About a year ago I reactivated my Twitter account which I had never used. I began following a variety of people, most of whom I had never met. Some were authors I had read, or voices I had heard on a podcast. Some of them have theological or political views that differed from mine, but I have no doubt that most of them love and worship the same God that I do. Because of this, a wonderful thing has happened in my heart. I now realize that in spirit we are all one in Christ. In practicality though, we are a divided mess. We speak of a coming awakening and harvest of souls like it’s just going to swoop down upon us one day without any desire on our part to come together as one.

There is a line in a song written by Nathan Isaacs that says, “What if WE are the awakening we’ve been waiting for?” The body of Christ should look like He whose body we are, right? In John 17 Jesus prayed that we would all be one, even as He and the Father are one. That prayer hasn’t been answered yet and I don’t believe it will until we cooperate with Him. Jesus Christ is not divided.

A nasty political spirit has gripped a good portion of the American church. We’ve allowed ourselves to be sucked into a two-party political system that seeks one thing – power and control. By the way, don’t get caught up in the idea that Jesus is not political. He is political. It’s just that His politics happen to look much different. If Jesus were to have a political convention, inviting all who believe and trust in Him to attend, perhaps it might look like this: Jesus has all the believers be seated. Then He begins His speech – “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are…”  Read Matthew, chapters 5-7. Then He invites the Apostle Paul to the stage and he quotes from his letter to the Galatians where he compares the works of the flesh to the fruit of the Spirit. (Gal. 5:19-26). After that, John the Beloved steps up and says, “Beloved, let us love one another….” (1 John 4:7-11). Finally, Jesus wraps it up by retelling the parable of the sheep and goats, “Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of my brethren, you did it to me.”  (Matt. 25:31-46).

So how will Jesus’ prayer for us to be one be answered? By putting our hope and trust in a way of living that transcends current politics. A way that is neither Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, or anything else.

It’s the Jesus way.

He is the Way.

May we be one,

Kevin

Social media has changed our world. We here in America live in a culture of sound bites and clichés. Every other post I see on Facebook or Twitter clamors for me to take sides and join the cause, whatever that cause may be. Whether it be political or religious, you must be either/or.

No. What we actually need is more circumspection. Big word, huh? Impressed? No, I didn’t make it up. It is an actual word. We need more people who are circumspect. Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary defines it, “careful to consider all circumstances and possible consequences.” Picture, if you will, somebody walking in a circle around a newly discovered object, looking at all sides before coming to a conclusion as to what it might be.

Something began to shift radically in my mind a couple of years ago. It wasn’t necessarily because of gaining more knowledge, although I do read a lot. For over 30 years I have practiced some sort of early-morning spiritual devotion. Whether it was reading through the Bible, reading a devotional book, or a chapter from Psalms or Proverbs corresponding to the day of the month, there was always something. Though I gained a lot of knowledge from the word of God, there was something missing. I had a strong relationship with the Bible, but not The Word. I had a good knowledge of truths, but not The Truth. The Word is a person. The Truth is a person. The practice of early-morning devotion has never been hard for me since I began doing it those many years ago. What was hard for me though, was prayer itself. I saw prayer predominately as asking God for things. In my mind I thought, “God already knows what I need and want, so why ask Him?” In recent years I have come to realize that it is so much more than just asking. It is more about waiting, watching, and listening than anything else. Prayer is about becoming so aware of what Jesus is doing that I actually begin to participate with Him.

I had an experience a couple of years that initiated this shift in prayer that I’m talking about. A couple of men were praying with me about a personal issue I was dealing with. There was a point in the ministry time where the men stopped talking and we all closed our eyes and asked Jesus to come in and show me what He wanted me to know. We got quiet and waited. Soon after, as I still had my eyes closed, I saw Jesus come in and sit across from me at a table. He served bread, wine, and meat. As we sat there eating, we laughed and made jokes. Then he looked me right in the eyes. As He did, it felt as if he was looking right through me. Then He said, “You’re unique, you’re special, and I like you.” I won’t take the time right now to tell you why He said those words, but it was healing for my soul. Afterwards I shared with the men what I had seen and heard. One of the men told me, “You need to visit that place often.”

I have many times. In fact, I go there almost every morning. I have a time set aside during my early-morning prayer where I stop talking, I get quiet and I just wait. Then He always meets me at the table. I have learned to be completely content in His presence. Sometimes He speaks, sometimes He shows me a picture, and sometimes He’s silent. I’m content simply because I’ve been with Him.

Sitting at the table with Jesus in the morning has helped me to be more circumspect in dealing with life and with people. I’m getting less and less angry these days as I see some of the ridiculousness on social media. When He is sitting with me at the table, all of the world’s opinions, accusations, and noise meant to distract me and anger me must pass between Jesus and I at the table. Most of the time they are reduced to nothing in the light of His gaze.

I think I’m beginning to understand what David was talking about when he said in Psalm 23, “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”

It’s a wonderful feast.

Kevin

Over in one of the corners of my mom’s house sits a grandfather clock. She had had it since 1980. If you asked me if I like the clock I would have to say yes and no. “No” because the chiming that takes place every quarter hour simply annoys me. I don’t know why, it just does. “Yes” because there has always been something mesmerizing about watching the pendulum swing back and forth.

The pendulum has weight at the bottom of it that causes it to swing to and fro under the action of gravity. Since I started following Jesus some 40 plus years ago I’ve seen many pendulums of spiritual truth swing from one end to the other. In the late 1960s and 70s there was the Jesus Movement that sprung up as a result of young people wanting some more real and genuine than the stuffy suit-and-tie hymnbook religion of their parents. There was the word of faith movement that rose up as a reaction to a passive, whatever-will-be-will-be religion. We saw the home school/Christian school movement grow as a reaction to public education and God being “removed” from it. I won’t take the time to mention the political pendulums that have swung to and fro. I’ve been a part of each of these swings and many more.

But alas, the pendulum swings again to the other side as a reaction to a truth turned heresy, a reclaiming of something important to the neglect of something else equally important. The pendulum only stops when it ceases to react. When it is centered and still, only then is it held by that gravity.

The gravity that holds me is The Truth. Not a truth, but The Truth Himself. Jesus. God Himself as revealed in His Son. Going back to the simplicity of the gospel (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) and embarking on a more contemplative way of thinking and praying has empowered me to begin the climb down from the pendulum.

Gone are the Fox News junkie days of watching the know-it-all pundits yelling at each other as I sit in my chair hoping my side gets the upper hand in the debate. Here to stay is a new way of seeing. This contemplative way has required an “unknowing” on my part that is strangely new, yet strangely comfortable. I will be sharing more about this contemplative way in some future blogs.

Stay tuned…

Kevin