Throughout
this whole process of Mike’s illness, I was struck by the number of times
people talked about things they, and I, didn’t know. We don’t know why Mike got
this; we don’t know the effect of this treatment; we don’t know how he will
communicate; I don’t know what to say or do when I visit him and he’s just
asleep. You get the idea. We were all
pretty much reacting out of ignorance. I
don’t mean ignorance in a pejorative sense.
We just didn’t know. We really
never do. I say never because, though we
are thinking specifically of Mike and family right now, crisis situations like
this are pretty common. They make life
what it is. We transition from one crisis
to another, which we experience in varying degrees of discomfort—from inconvenience
to deepest sorrow. But they all afford us
great opportunities to live in pure faith.
We have to, have to, depend on
what God has planned next. Outwardly, I
suppose, it does not look any different from what a non-believer does. We make
the decisions, take the actions, consult the people, that we think are best.
Then we hope. And therein lies the
difference between the Christian and non-Christian. I don’t know what a
non-believer hopes in. Science? Expertise and goodness of others? Experience? Those
aren’t bad choices. I look to them all the time. But they are incomplete. Without recognizing that God works with these
is to wonder if they will work next time. Scripture gives us plenty of examples of
people encouraging others to notice the consistency of nature to see how reliable
He is. And we wouldn’t know a miracle
was a miracle if we didn’t know that science followed consistent laws. When someone acts morally and expertly, we
know that God has planted that moral sense in them. We know that God is the
source of all knowledge. As many have said, All truth is God’s truth. We can trust that God will direct others to
act properly. Then there is the call of
Scripture to look to the history of God acting in life. The Psalmists constantly call on Israel to
remember how God has worked in the past and to trust that He will work in the
future. For us that means our individual
futures.
Of course,
this does not mean we can depend on what science thinks is best, how others are making
their choices, or if this experience will lead to what it lead to last time we
depended on it. That’s why, on their own, they are wanting. We don’t know all that science has to teach
us. Others’ expertise comes up short, and
they definitely don’t always act morally. Our memories oftentimes fail to bring
back to mind the right experiences. But
we have faith. Call it a brace, a bannister, or a base, but don’t call it a
blind leap. We trust in the majestic God
of the universe who has been working since before time.
God
promised He would work. This is the God
who said He would send His Son to make the world right. His Son came, died for us, and did not escape
death Himself. Instead by dying, He defeated death. He rose from the grave. Now
he lives to transform completely all those who trust in that miraculous, just, and
historical act.
If Mike
and Sandy’s suffering can cause us to look back to Jesus, then God is truly
glorified. We can mourn the loss of a good friend, a friend whose good humor is
the antithesis of death, and mourn we should. But we can also celebrate that
death is not the end. We will miss Mike, none more so than Sandy, the kids and
a grandchild who got only a glimpse of a guy we can’t help but smile about. But
it’s not the end, no more than it was when they laid Jesus in the grave. Mike rests now, awaiting the time when he
will be raised to a completely healed body.
