There was an old saying that I don’t hear very often anymore – “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” I don’t usually think of myself as “old” in the sense of someone who is already past their prime. In many ways I feel like I’m in my prime right now. I have way less hair than I did in my teens and twenties and it is no longer blonde, but I don’t feel like I’m 63 either. Speaking of new tricks, I’m having to learn how to be single again, which has been a challenge for a guy who doesn’t do “alone” very well (After all, I spent nearly 40 years with the best woman a man could ever ask for). Not to mention I don’t own a house anymore, I live with my son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter, and I’m retiring from my job in a couple weeks, although I don’t necessarily see these three things as challenges. 

2020 was a rough year, but I really don’t have a sad story to tell. Since the beginning of last year I have experienced what David called the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. I’ve been leading the men’s ministry at my home church (Grace Church in Willis, Tx.) since January of 2021 and that might be considered a challenge to some but I see it as an adventure. In fact, I see the entire path that God has set before me as an adventure. Yes, there are challenges, but all adventures have them. It makes them all the more worth it. I love adventure and I believe we were all made for adventure. We are all created in the image of a very adventurous God. 

When Jesus called each of his disciples and said “follow me”, I doubt they had any idea or inkling of the adventures that awaited them. Here was a young carpenter-turned-rabbi who lived the most adventurous life of any man who ever walked the earth. Look at this –

As they were going along the road, someone said to Him, “I will follow You wherever You go.” And Jesus said to him, “The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” And he said to another, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord permit me first to go and bury my father.” but He said to him, “Allow the dead  to bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim everywhere the kingdom of God.” Another also said, “I will follow You, Lord; but first permit me to say goodbye to those at home.” But Jesus said to him, “No one, after putting his hand to the plow and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:57-62)

In our current American culture of “wokeness” and hyper-sensitivity, these words from Jesus would seem very harsh, offensive, and not safe. The first person tells Jesus, “I’ll follow you wherever you go”. This is my own paraphrase, but I imagine this – Jesus then says, “Great! Oh, by the way, I don’t really know where we’ll be sleeping on any given night, it could be in someone’s house or on the ground under the stars.” I wonder if the seeker was looking for something a little more comfortable. Jesus says “follow me” to another one and he says he needs to go and bury his father first. Sounds like a pretty good reason to put it off for a little while, I mean, making sure your dad gets a proper burial is pretty important, right? Sure, but that’s not what he’s talking about. In those days, every man left an inheritance for his children. The man knew that once his father had died he would have his portion of the inheritance and could likely afford to follow Jesus anywhere.

Jesus told him, “Don’t wait for your father’s burial. Let those who are already dead wait for death. As for you, go and proclaim everywhere that God’s kingdom has arrived” (TPT). 

The third guy seemed to have a very good reason to procrastinate. He wanted to go back first and say goodbye to his family back home. Jesus wasn’t having any of it.

“No one, after putting his hand to the plow and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.” 

Following Jesus should be the most exciting, adventurous, fulfilling thing we could ever set out to do but, sadly, religion has made it mostly about going to heaven someday. The kingdom of God is not some far off place we get to go to in the sweet by and by. This spiritual realm called the kingdom of God is actually more real than the natural realm. This kingdom I speak of is exciting, fun, full of adventure, and…not safe! No, not safe at all if you’re looking for the kind of security that any kind of comfortable man-made security net might provide.

 The kingdom of God appeared on earth in the form of a man called Jesus and he has invited us to come with him! In the book, “The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe” from the Chronicles Of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, there is a scene that kind of sums up what I want to say here. Lucy is having a conversation with Mr. Beaver and Mrs. Beaver. They tell her about Aslan the Lion (representing Jesus Christ) and Lucy asks, 

“Is he safe?”

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver; “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe?

 ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.

 He’s the king, I tell you!”

In this new season of my life I’m learning about a new level of surrender – falling. Yes, it’s like backing up to the edge of a cliff and falling. It feels dangerous because I don’t know what it is going to feel like at the bottom. It’s not so much the falling that scares me. It’s the sudden stop at the bottom with nothing to catch me! I took my 4 year old granddaughter, Norah, to the park earlier. There is a large rock about four feet high that kids can climb up on. She climbed up on it and said, “Pawpaw, I’m going to jump! You stand over there and catch me!” And she jumped and I caught her – over and over until she got tired. She had complete trust that I would catch her. Was it safe? No. I could have dropped her. Safety wasn’t an issue with her because she knows her Pawpaw loves her and is too good to let her hit the ground. 

There is nothing “safe” about Jesus, but, oh, is He good! 

I trust Him.

 

Kevin

 

Yesterday I was talking with one of my sons and said to him, “What a difference a year makes, huh?” He knew what I was talking about and replied, “I know!” A year ago I was about to experience my first Christmas in almost 40 years without Becky. It was a sad feeling that is hard to describe. Watching the unbridled joy of my little granddaughter helped to soothe the pain. Norah had been told that “Honey” had gone to heaven with Jesus and that’s all she would be told for now. In the meantime, she would have a joyful Christmas and nothing could stop that.  

Yesterday the realization hit me that I’ve been healed since that day 13 months ago. It wasn’t an instantaneous healing, but rather gradual. Grief is a difficult subject to teach anyone about because I’ve never met any two people who processed it the same way. How was I healed? The simplest answer I can give is – I had to lean into Jesus and let Him love me. I was telling a friend the other day that I feel like I’ve been experiencing one long and continuous kiss from my Father in heaven. What does that feel like? I’m so glad you asked. What it feels like to me is an act of kindness from a friend or even a complete stranger, or a word of encouragement, or a hug, or my granddaughter kissing me and saying, “I love you, Pawpaw!” It’s when I lay in bed at night alone and hear Jesus whisper to my heart, “I love you.” There have been so many times when I’ll be going about my daily business and suddenly feel overwhelmed by His presence. 

Can I explain it? No. Do I understand it? Barely. 

That’s probably why it’s better that I not lean on my own understanding. Sound familiar? (Prov. 3:5) It’s far better that I just lean into Jesus. I’ve been doing that more and more these days and I’m experiencing a depth of joy that has been a long time coming. 

There is a scripture the Lord gave me many years ago that had become ingrained in me. I read it again a few months ago in The Passion Translation and it blew me away!

I hear the Lord saying, “I will stay close to you, instructing and guiding you along the pathway for your life. I will advise you along the way and lead you forth with my eyes as your guide. So don’t make it difficult; don’t be stubborn when I take you where you’ve not been before. Don’t make me tug you and pull you along. Just come with me!” (Psalm 32:8 TPT)

The best way to go without Him tugging and pulling me along is to follow His eyes. The Apostle John saw Christ and described Him as having eyes “like a flame of fire” (Revelation 1:14) Those eyes burn with the fire of His perfect love for us and I want to follow those eyes! The more I look into those fiery eyes, the more I am undone and the more I want others to see Him too. Regardless of what next year holds, good or bad, I’ll follow those eyes.

Lean into Him and let Him love you.

A beloved son,

Kevin

About three weeks ago, I did something I’ve never done before…I rented a dumpster. Yes. A dumpster. It wasn’t a small one either. Why did I do such a thing? Stuff. Lots of stuff. It is mind boggling to think of the amount of things we had accumulated over the years. Becky was a bargain hunter and coupon clipper. It was quite impressive to watch her in action, especially when our boys were still children. She had books of coupons that she had meticulously cut out, all sorted into categories. She knew when the weekly grocery ads would come out and she would combine those sales with coupons and walk out of the store having paid $200 for $400 worth of groceries. She believed in stocking up, which meant she never bought just one of any item. We had four growing boys and a limited budget. Even though the process was time-consuming, at the end of the month I appreciated her diligence. 

Becky grew up in a large family of eight children. Her mother was a homemaker and her dad worked on the docks at the Port of Houston as a longshoreman. They were precious, godly people and raised their children in a home full of love. They definitely lived on a tight budget. Nothing was wasted and if something could be used again, it was put away somewhere in case you needed it again. Becky picked up most of her homemaking talents from her mother. As young as eight years old, she was already helping her mother cook and bake in the kitchen. It was her favorite place to be. 

The boys and I were always amazed at her cooking skills and we definitely benefited from it in more ways than one! Becky’s talent for finding bargains carried on even after all of the boys became adults and moved out on their own. For some reason, she still saw the need to stock up on items, even though we didn’t need half as much. I would ask her why and she would say, “maybe one of the kids or somebody else will need some”. But the stuff just kept piling up. Thankfully our house didn’t look like some of the hoarders I’ve seen on the TV shows. Well, except for the closets, pantries, cabinets, garage, and attic, not to mention a little more clutter than I would have liked, but at least we could walk through the living room. 

At the beginning of the new year, I knew I had to start downsizing. I got rid of things I knew I didn’t need, which turned out to be quite a bit, and I kept a few things like family pictures and items that I knew she would want to pass along to the kids. I had a reassurance in my heart that, from Becky’s new heavenly vantage point, she was cheering me on in this endeavor. 

First, along with this sense of knowing I had, I heard the Holy Spirit whisper to me, “you can’t take all of this where you’re going”. I knew He wasn’t telling me that I was about to die and go to heaven, but instead, He was leading me into a greater awareness of heaven on earth, a deeper life in the Spirit that couldn’t proceed any further without letting go of a lot of “stuff” that would weigh me down or distract me in my journey.

 Second, He reminded me of this passage of scripture:

“For I am jealous for you with a godly jealousy; for I betrothed you to one husband, so that to Christ I might present you as a pure virgin. But I am afraid that, as the serpent deceived Eve by his craftiness, your minds will be led astray from the simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ.” (2 Corinthians 11:3-4 NASB)

Simplicity just seemed to jump off of the page and scream at me. When that happens I know that God is putting a major emphasis on something for my benefit. If you study the word simplicity, you’ll find that the word is haplotes in the original Greek. It simply means “singleness”, no pun intended, given my current state. It is a singleness of focus and purpose. I was beginning to see what He meant by, “you can’t take all of this where you’re going”. He wasn’t primarily talking about going to a physical place, but rather a place of union with Him where stuff doesn’t really mean that much and too much of it would weigh me down. It’s laying aside every weight (Hebrews 12:1). The more I realize that He is  everything to me, the less I need of every other thing.

“One thing I have asked from the Lord, that I shall seek: That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord and to meditate in His temple.” (Psalm 27:4)

One of the first things I did was clear some things out of my bedroom. Becky had a lot of clothes and shoes, which is nothing unusual for a woman. Sorry ladies, I’m not trying to stereotype, but I have talked to some of my male peers who have verified this. Did I say she had a lot of shoes? After clearing her clothes and shoes out, I donated all of them to a resale shop that benefits our county women’s shelter. Becky always had a heart for women who were down and out or had been battered, and had helped several of them over the years. I have wanted to have my own little study/prayer place in the house, but we never had the free space. Now I did. I got a small desk that someone was throwing out and I put it in my room. I bought a small rug because I like to lay on the floor sometimes when I’m praying or just soaking in the presence of God. I set it all up and that first evening I put on some instrumental soaking music and just layed on the floor.

Almost immediately I felt the heavy weight of His glory settle down on me like a warm, weighted blanket. I cried like a baby. I could feel His pleasure, His smile. It was like a fresh baptism in the fiery love of Jesus. I caught a glimpse of those eyes of fire that John the Apostle saw while caught up in the Spirit on the Isle of Patmos. Oh how He loves us! This is why I’m simplifying my life, This is why I want to lay aside every weight. I have somewhere to go. I’m not exactly sure where that is, but I know that I’ll be traveling with Him and that’s all that really matters to me. You can call me a minimalist, which is probably true now, but all I really want to do is just follow Jesus and I can’t wait to see where we’ll go!

Simply following Him,

Kevin

Surrender and Simplicity – Part 1

 

I love it when God speaks to me. Sometimes it comes through His written word, another person, a gentle nudge, a sense, or just that still, small voice. He does it in a variety of ways and I love that about Him! 

As 2020 came to a close, two things came to me very clearly through the Holy Spirit: 

Surrender

Simplicity

  I wrote these words in my journal on December 31st: “I leave 2020 surrendered to you, Lord. I let go. After a year of great turmoil and personal loss, You remain faithful.”

  Not only was it a year of great turmoil, but it was the hardest year of my life and yet here was God telling me to surrender. What? Him telling me to surrender may not sound very comforting to you, especially considering all I had just gone through, but I’ve had such an unfolding revelation of the love of the Father over the past few years that it was actually comforting to me. Our Father disciplines us because He loves, right? 

What does it mean to surrender to someone? Webster’s Dictionary defines the verb “surrender” this way: 

To surrender – To yield to the power, control, or possession of another upon compulsion or demand. 

Not only was it surrender that He was asking of me, but unconditional surrender. An unconditional surrender is a surrender in which no guarantees are given to the surrendering party. The only guarantee He gave me was the promise that He would never leave me or forsake me, and what a great promise that is! But the level of surrender He was calling me to would have no other guarantees. The Apostle Paul, who wrote the majority of the New Testament, had this to say:

“Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which I was laid hold of by Jesus Christ. Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do; forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 3:12-14 NASB)

Forgetting those things that are behind? It sounds contradictory for me to quote that since I just finished a five part blog recounting our experience of Becky’s illness and passing, doesn’t it? The Passion Translation puts verse 13 like this: “ I don’t depend on my own strength to accomplish this; however I do have one compelling focus: I forget all of the past as I fasten my heart to the future instead.”  It’s all about what I choose to focus on. It’s not that I won’t remember it anymore, it’s just that when I do I’ll choose to focus on God’s goodness and faithfulness. The forgetting that Paul is talking about really means to not care about. It’s not at the forefront of my mind anymore. Instead, I’m fastening my heart to the future. 

I have no idea what my future holds, which is all the more why I need to be completely surrendered to Him. He is good and His plans for me are good. When you come to realize the depths to which you are loved by your Creator, surrender will be the response to that love. The Son of God, Himself, left His throne, laid aside certain privileges, and took on the form of a man. He lived as a man completely surrendered to the will of His Father. He faced every temptation that I have or ever will and overcame it. I want to be conformed to the image of that Son (Rom. 8:29). 

The reason Paul could forget all of the past (and he had quite a past) was that he had been captured by Christ. He had been arrested, so to speak, by One who loves His people so much that He would say to him, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?” Saul, who became Paul, may not have realized it at that moment, but he had been captured by the love of Christ! He even refers to himself as a “prisoner of Jesus Christ” later in some of his letters to the churches. I’ve been captured by the love of Christ too. No, I didn’t get knocked to the ground and blinded for three days like Saul, but I’ve had numerous times, especially in the past six months, where I have felt so overwhelmed by His love that all I could do was lay on the floor and surrender to waves of love that felt like fire. 

Since I was a kid, I’ve asked the Lord countless times to “do something in my life” as I’m sure many of you have. “Do something in my life” is a legitimate prayer, but have you ever been “undone” by Him? The prophet Isaiah said he was undone (ruined) when he saw the Lord sitting on His throne (Is. 6). The apostle John saw the Lord and fell at His feet as though dead (Rev. 1). When you have had undeniable encounters with Him you are forever ruined. Surrender comes easy to someone who has been ruined for anything else. In John’s encounter with Jesus on the island of Patmos, he describes Jesus as having eyes like a flame of fire. That picture comes to my mind quite often when I’m in prayer and it melts me. Imagine what it did to John. Those eyes burn with fiery, passionate love for us and when we get a glimpse of it we are forever ruined. 

Undo us, Lord.

 

Kevin

 

I have heard it said many times throughout the years that the phrase “fear not” is found 365 times in the Bible. One for each day of the year. I’ve never counted them myself but it doesn’t surprise me that there would be that many. If we are commanded so many times to not be afraid, then there must be a good reason for it and it must be possible to “fear not”, even in the most difficult times.

Becky had been back at Cornerstone for four days now. I was limited to 2 hour visits every other evening due to the policy in place there. It was Wednesday, September 30th and I had just pulled into the parking lot at my job. I had a few minutes to spare, so I called Becky to check on her. Nothing seemed unusual in her voice, although we barely got to say “good morning” to each other when she said, “The nurse is here, I’ll call you later”. I had no idea that it would be the last conversation we would have. At 11:30 am my phone rang. I recognized the number. It was the floor supervisor from Cornerstone. “Hello, Mr. Sherman, there’s been an issue with your wife, Rebecca. We had to intubate her. She is stable now, though.” “What? Intubate her? You mean she’s on a ventilator now?” “Yes, she is. We didn’t have a choice. We almost lost her.” My heart sank. I dropped what I was doing and drove down to Houston. Even though my next day to visit was Thursday, they made an exception this time. Obviously this was serious and things were about to change drastically.

I had learned by experience, going all the way back to 2002 when she received her liver, that even though I may not have control over some of the circumstances, I can control the atmosphere in a room. I can bring anxiety into a room, or I can bring peace. Imagine you are the patient in a setting like Becky was and you are already struggling to maintain a sense of calm. In walks your husband, full of anxiety, mumbling words of angst and fear. It affects everything in the room. Or, the husband walks in carrying the presence of God, bringing peace into the midst of the storm. I knew that this was my mission each day that I walked into that hospital room, no matter what was taking place at the moment. It wasn’t easy, though. There were days when I felt so sorry for her that grief would try to creep in.

When I entered her room I immediately sensed tremendous fear. They had shoved a large tube down her throat and I could see the fear and panic in her eyes. Tears welled up in my eyes. I could sense fear and anxiety in the nurses who were in the room as well. Becky was trying to tell me something but I couldn’t figure it out. Every time she would struggle to say something her oxygen saturation levels would begin dropping and the nurse would have to tell her not to try to talk. All I could do in that moment was hold her hand, speak comforting words, and release the peace of God over her. Thoughts tried to take over my mind – “This is a huge step backwards”. “What if this is the end?” All of the “what ifs”. Immediately Psalm 23:4 came to mind, Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. The Passion Translation reads like this – Lord, even when your path takes me through the valley of deepest darkness, fear will never conquer me, for you already have! Then 1 John 4:18 came to me – There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. When I become more aware of His perfect love than I do of the evil pressing in around me, His love displaces the fear and peace displaces the anxiety. I began to thank Him out loud for His perfect love and the peace that passes understanding.

Each day I would send texts and messages to family and friends with updates, many times leaving out some details simply for time’s sake but I knew that there were people getting the messages who knew how to pray, letting Holy Spirit fill in the details.

She began to relax some. They had sedated her a little more and I felt like peace had settled into the room. I was told that as soon as a bed in the ICU became available she would be moved back to Methodist. I didn’t know what the next few days or weeks would hold, but I knew who held Becky and I.

I was able to stay with her until she was transferred back to Methodist later that night. The visiting hours in the ICU were 1-5pm daily, so I knew I had to make the best of my time there. I wanted to be with her all day but four hours was better than nothing. They had her heavily sedated to keep her from fighting the uncomfortable tube going down her throat. She slept the entire time I was there the first day. It was October 1st now and it was hard to believe she had already spent 78 days in the hospital.

The next morning around 11:30 I got a call from the nurse telling me that Becky had tested positive for covid again and I would not be allowed to visit her agin until she tested negative. What? I couldn’t believe it! “Nooo!!!”, I shouted after I got off the phone. I was told they would have to wait 24 hours before testing her again. The next day seemed to drag by slowly. Every couple of hours or so I would call the nurse to check on her. She was resting comfortably. Finally, she was tested again and this time it was negative. I was allowed to visit again. Not much seemed to change with her condition over the next couple of weeks. It was like a roller coaster ride. They would do a chest x-ray and tell me it looked a little better, then a couple days later text one would look worse again. I met so many doctors and interns my head was spinning. With COVID-19 being so relatively new, it seemed like they were desperately trying anything they could, hoping to see some results.

Occasionally, Becky would try to tell me something and I had to try to read her lips while having the tube down her throat. The only thing I could ever make out were the words “I love you”. Of course, my heart melted each time. The other times, we both would get so frustrated that her blood pressure would skyrocket and her oxygen saturation levels would drop. The nurse would intervene and tell me to step away and let things calm down. I can’t say enough good things about the nurses who work the ICU at Methodist. They were so attentive to details and treated Becky and I with such compassion. They are amazing!

After a couple weeks they performed a tracheotomy on her to place the tube directly into her esophagus. I was relieved because I knew this would be more comfortable for her. There was talk from the doctors trying to wean her off of the ventilator if her numbers could get down to a certain level. Sometimes it would get close but then they would have to raise it up again. Even though the ventilator was going directly into her esophagus she wasn’t able to communicate much, other than nodding her head sometimes. They had to keep her sedated too and that made her confused sometimes. I desperately wanted to know what she wanted to say to me. I told her every day how proud I was of her and that she was going to come home. I tried different ways to lift her spirits and infuse some hope into her. My sons and daughter-in-laws would leave voice messages for her and I would play them. I would show her videos of Norah, our granddaughter. Usually she would just stare straight ahead but every now and then her eyes would widen a little. As I look back on it now, I feel like there came a point where she knew she wasn’t coming home (at least not to our house). There was talk again that if her requirements for oxygen dropped some, then she would be transferred back to the LTAC. This was getting old. I didn’t want her to go back there again unless they were certain she had improved enough. Otherwise it seemed futile to me.

The rollercoaster ride continued through the end of October. During this time I had come across several articles and videos about people who had been on a ventilator for weeks and weeks and miraculously being taken off of it and eventually going home. A couple of them had even had longer hospital stays than Becky. I would tell Becky about them, hoping to keep faith alive in her and also myself.

I started to notice something different about her during the last week of October. She was making less eye contact with me when I would talk to her and even when she did her eyes seemed to look right through me. I knew that they had increased her sedation a little but they couldn’t raise it up too much and risk her blood pressure dropping. It was like a balancing act. Where I had seen some fear in her eyes before, I didn’t see that now. It was almost as if some kind of resolve had come over her. I wondered many times if she was already getting glimpses of the other side.

Just a couple of days into November, I arrived at the ICU as usual and signed in at the desk, putting on the badge required to visit. I was met by the head ICU doctor, who said, “Can we talk for a few minutes?” “Sure”. We sat down in a private meeting room. “Mr. Sherman, your wife has been in here over a month now and she is not getting any better. We can try to keep her comfortable, but we’re just going around in circles now.” Thoughts started racing through my mind so fast I didn’t know what to say. I felt like what he was really trying to tell me was, “There are other sick people who actually have a chance who are waiting for a room in the ICU and there’s nothing else we can do for her. Maybe it’s time to ‘pull the plug’, so to speak.” I thought about my four sons, who had not been able to visit her the entire four months in the hospital and I knew that Becky would want to see them and hear their voices in person at least one more time. After a minute of silence, I spoke up. “I’m not making any decision until my sons are allowed to see her.” Oh, no problem, we can do set it up for them to see her on a screen, you know, facetime.” “No, I meant in person”, I said. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.” “Why not?” “It’s against our policy. It’s just not safe.” “Put yourself in our shoes. How would you feel?” “I’m sorry, but we just can’t do that.” “Then I’m not making any decisions right now” I said.

The next day, I got a phone call from a lady with palliative care. She wanted to meet with me that afternoon after I arrived at the hospital and discuss some “options” and “decisions” I might need to consider. We sat down in the same room and she told me there were two options at this point – hospice care, or they remove her from the ventilator and she passes in a short time. I told her I was willing to consider hospice. Again, as the day before, I asked if there was a chance the boys could see her in hospice and she said, “probably so”. I asked her to explain the process and she told me that an ambulance would be sent to pick her up, and then they would remove her from the ventilator and take her to hospice. Then the boys would be allowed to come see her. “What? Remove the ventilator before she goes to hospice? What if she dies on the way there? No way! My sons are going to visit her before she passes and each one is going to say something to her and she is going to be alive to hear it!”

The next couple of days I received visits from liaisons and everyone but the CEO himself, it seemed like, all of them trying to reason with me. I plead my case with every one of them. On the third day I raised my voice a little while talking to one of them in the hallway and was immediately told about another man who had to be escorted out by the police one day.

On November 11th, when I arrived, I was informed that they wanted to move her back to the LTAC. I was given the choice of Cornerstone or Kindred Hospital. I chose Kindred because something just felt right about it, though she had not been there before. I’m glad I made that choice. The paperwork was all done and she was moved to Kindred the next day. It is located right across the street from Methodist. Their visiting hours ended every day at 8:00pm and I was told that they had been known to make exceptions for other family members under special circumstances, which gave me great hope.

With each passing day, she seemed to be a little less responsive and was sleeping most of the time as they were just trying to keep her as comfortable as possible. It was November 13th, her 62nd birthday. Just a few weeks ago, I still had hopes that she would be back home by this time, or at least in a facility where our family could be together to celebrate with her. Instead, here we were at this specialty hospital with life apparently slipping away. I informed the hospital staff on her floor of her birthday and that evening they brought some balloons in, gathered around and sang Happy Birthday to her. It was such a kind gesture. The on-duty hospital chaplain was there too and she pulled me aside. “Have you thought about arrangements yet?”

“Uh…no, I really haven’t. We’ve been believing for a miracle.”

“I know it’s not an easy thing to talk about, but sometimes we just have to let them go”, she gently said.

My thinking had to shift at that moment from the miracle of her recovering and coming back home, to “what does Becky want?” Of course, I wasn’t able to get a response from her by this time because she was so heavily sedated.
The next day, one of the doctors told me that her kidneys were starting to shut down. “She will need dialysis”, he informed me. The thought of her hooked up to another machine just made me cringe. I called Dr. Botto, her pulmonary doctor, a man whom I had more respect for than any other doctor assigned to her. He was compassionate, yet not afraid to tell you the truth. I asked for his opinion. He responded with a question, “The question is, how long do you want to prolong her suffering?” “I don’t want to prolong her suffering”, I responded. I called my pastor and told him the decision I was facing. “The question is, what does ‘life’ look like to Becky right now?” I knew the answer already. Being hooked up to another machine is not the life she wants.
I told the attending physician that dialysis was off the table now. Either we were going to see another Lazarus type of miracle or she would be completely whole with Jesus in a few days. Most all of her vital signs were holding steady. The next morning I was talking to her nurse and mentioned that our sons had not been able to be with her for four months. She responded, “I will speak to my supervisor and see if they can come one at a time and visit her.”

“That would be fantastic!”

That afternoon, each of my sons were able to come see her briefly and talk to her. I knew she could hear them, even though her eyes were closed and she was mostly unresponsive. It felt like a huge weight was being lifted from me. I went home that night feeling a sense of contentment, knowing that the boys were able to finally see her.

The next morning I was back at the hospital and everything seemed to be the same. Later that morning a thought came to me. Why not ask if the boys could come again today, except this time Raychel and Hannah come and visit too? The hospital staff had been gracious enough to bend the rules and allow the boys to visit, why not push the envelope a little? As I was sitting by her bed thinking these thoughts to myself, I noticed her heart rate had started to drop very low. The nurse was automatically alerted by the machine and came into the room. “This is not good”, she said. Then I followed her out of the room and asked her, “What are the chances that my sons could come up here again today and bring their wives this time?”

“I’ll check on that for you.”

“Thank you very much!”

I went back into her room saying, “Thank you, Lord, for making this happen for us.” I sat by her side again, watching the monitor almost constantly, especially her heart rate, which had dropped dangerously low. A little while later, her nurse got my attention from the window. I walked to the door and she gave me the good news that my sons, along with Raychel and Hannah, would be able to come up for a short visit. “Thank you so much!” Then, something amazing happened. I walked back over to her bed and said, “Guess what, Honey? The boys are going to come up again and this time Raychel and Hannah are coming too!” Right after I spoke those words, I watched the monitor and her heart rate began to rise again! There was no eye movement or any other physical sign, but her heart responded.

Each one of my Jason and Raychel, Brian and Hannah, Nathan, and Ben were each able to go in one by one and spend a few minutes with her while I waited in the lobby. They each spoke from their heart, a couple of them told her it was ok to go if she wanted to, and that they would be ok. The others could only manage to tell her how much they loved her and that was perfectly fine. It was another display of God’s goodness. Had she not been moved to this hospital they would not have been allowed to see her, even after four long months of separation. The heart of this beautiful mother held on for one last chance for a visit from the ones who were everything to her.

By 7:30pm they had all left and I was back in her room. All visitors had to be out by 8:00 and there were no exceptions. It was now time to leave and I knew it might be the last time I saw her, this side of Glory. I kissed her, told her I loved her, and said “I’ll see you later” as I walked out the door. At 10:24pm, November 16th, she slipped peacefully from the bonds of this earth into the eternal presence of Jesus, welcomed with open arms by those who have gone before.

I would imagine some of you might think it odd that I would write a series of blogs to tell this story. Why relive it? Because it is a story worth telling. We saw the Lord. We saw Him in the midst of crises. We saw Him in the midst of the unknown. We saw Him in the eyes, hands, and feet of healthcare workers risking their own lives to save the lives of others. We saw Him in the prayers, texts, phone calls, and gifts from family and friends who cared, some we had never met. I saw Him in the way He met me every morning with new mercies and peace that is beyond my comprehension. I saw Him in the courage and grace with which the love of my life fought through unimaginable sickness, stared death in the face and was finally welcomed home by the One who defeated death and the grave.

I want you to know that whatever you are going through or yet to go through, there is a place in God completely accessible to you through Christ. It is a place where Perfect Love drives out any fear and the Holy Spirit fills you with joy that nothing can take away.

Kevin

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?”