Signs of healing begin to appear

“He healeth all our diseases…” (Psalm 103:3)

In the old Western novels, cowboys are taught that once a wound begins to itch, healing is on its way.

On January 23, a little over two weeks ago, my wife had what appears to have been a pulmonary embolism which triggered a cardiac arrest.  That was a Friday and on Wednesday night, with the counsel of doctors, my family made the decision to unplug life support.  My wife of nearly 53 years had not responded to any of the stimuli and treatments.  A physician friend said to me later, “Your wife died in the nail salon on Friday.”

It would appear so.

I’ve wept ever since.  We had a memorial service on Monday, February 2, and family members have been helping me with a thousand and one details.  Two wonderful ladies from our church spent the day here last Friday cleaning the house from top to bottom.  I’m still eating meals people brought.

And I’m still weepy. I asked a friend, “When do the tears stop?”  She answered, “I don’t know yet.  Jim’s only been gone 14 years.”

I do not grieve for Margaret. She was living with such pain and infirmities, and now that is all gone.  She is with the Lord, out of this pain and misery and dancing with the redeemed of the ages, if God’s Word can be believed.

I’m betting my life that it can.

A large number of people assure me they are praying for God’s healing for me.

Healing.  What a nice concept.

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Margaret Ann Henderson McKeever (June 9, 1942 – January 29, 2015)

“Beauty is deceitful and popularity is vain. But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her own hands, and let her own works praise her in the gates” (Proverbs 31:30-31).

Margaret would be embarrassed to know I used Proverb 31 on her.

But she was in many respects every ounce that strong woman to whom someone is paying tribute.  She had to be, considering all the hurdles she cleared, the obstacles she overcame, the setbacks and hardships and difficulties life handed her, all of which she met head-on and surmounted.

I wish you could have known her in her prime.

She could be fierce in her faith and soft in her sweetness, and focused like a laser when she set her mind to do a thing.  Only in her later years did the burdens begin to outnumber and overwhelm her.  Even then, she was a fighter.  Her calendar is filled with appointments I am having to cancel–meetings with therapists, nutritionists, pain management clinic, physical therapy, a psychiatrist, and a few other things. She was not giving up, she was not going down without a fight.

Joe married a fighter.  April 13, 1962.  A Friday night in Birmingham, Alabama.

She would have to be a fighter. She was tying herself to a young preacher who hardly knew how to be a husband, breadwinner, pastor, or a father, and much less a caretaker, lover, best friend.  I would have to learn all of this, and some lessons came harder than others.

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My single biggest problem in crisis ministry

Take last evening for instance.

A friend who is on the staff of a large church in the northern part of our state emailed about a family basically living in the ICU ward of a local hospital in our city. Doctors have told the parents nothing more can be done for the daughter. So they are standing by, waiting for God to take her.

My friend had planned to drive down to see them, but because of a cold decided it was best if he canceled and asked me to call on them.

An hour later, I was in the hospital room with the family.

The patient was either sleeping or heavily sedated and several family members and friends were seated around the room, talking softly.  They greeted me warmly, having already been informed that I was coming.

Now, two things about this family I found amazing.  They have lived in the intensive care units of their hospital back home and the one here for over 40 days.  And yet, they have such a steady peace and beautiful joy about them.

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On finding yourself in a burning building (or on a sinking ship)

“Seeing then that all these things shall be dissolved, what manner of persons ought you to be…” (2 Peter 3:11)

The issue of faith–to believe or not to believe–says John Ortberg, “is never just a question of calculating the odds for the existence of God.  We are not just probability calculators. We live in a burning building.  It’s called a body. The clock is ticking.”  (“Know Doubt,” p.32)

Ortberg doesn’t mind mixing metaphors.  We live in a burning building; the clock is ticking.

So true.

Yes, and the Titanic which we call Earth is sinking (with too many people occupied with re-arranging deck chairs). The universe is winding down.  The sun which supports life on earth and is the center of our solar system has an expiration date, scientists say.

The physical creation has a known shelf life. (Note: “Known” refers to the shelf life, not to the expiration date.)

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Life after death: Not just in the New Testament

“As for me, I shall behold Thy face in righteousness.  I will be satisfied with Thy likeness when I awake” (Psalm 17:15).

The next time you hear someone say the Old Testament knows nothing about eternal life or Heaven, I’d like to suggest what your response should be.

Tell them, “It would be good for you to read your Bible before making such a statement.”

Job asked the question of the ages when he said, “If  a man die, will he live again?” (Job 14:14)  Every generation of every culture in every civilization before and since has asked that, and each has answered it in its own way.

Five chapters later, Job answered his own question.

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The question for all believers in all seasons

“I was afraid and hid your talent in the ground” (Matthew 25:25).

“Why did you fear? Where is your faith?” (Matthew 8:26).

The storm was raging, the sea was crashing about them, the boat was going down and they were going to die.

The disciples decided it was high time to awaken Jesus.  He needed to do something.

Exactly, what they had in mind for Him to do, they did not say.

“Lord, save us! We’re going to die!”

Do something He did.

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What I wonder about Heaven

“Things which eye has not seen and ear has not heard, and which have not entered the heart of man, all that God has prepared for those who love Him” (I Corinthians 2:9).

I think about Heaven a lot.  So many people whom I love with all my heart are there and I miss them every day.

I wonder what they are doing and if they think about us.  I wonder if my brothers are really playing rummy with our dad, the way we say they are.  Are they going fishing and is our mom visiting with her wonderful parents whom she had not seen in half a century?

What will Heaven be like? After all, in addition to loved ones in Heaven, there are also uncounted millions of brothers and sisters of all races and tribes whom we have yet to meet. There are “myriads” of angels, and best of all, our wonderful Lord and Savior Himself.

Who would not want to go to Heaven?

My friend Barbara Hardy used to say when she got to Heaven, she was going to ask for a size 10 body.

A pastor friend used to say that in Heaven, he would be able to eat all the lemon ice-box pie he wanted without gaining an ounce.

Joni Aereckson Tada has said that when she gets to Heaven, the first thing she plans to do is ask Jesus to dance. (She’s been a quadriplegic all her adult life.)

Some more serious things I wonder about Heaven include…

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Be careful about the little things

“A little leaven leavens the whole lump of dough” (Galatians 5:9).

Take care of the little things.

In art, the difference between mediocre and masterful is often attention to details.

In wartime, attention to the little things can mean surviving.

I wonder if Goliath thought something like this in that millisecond before he expired: “This cannot be happening.  A giant like me, a champion of warriors, massive and mighty, undaunted and undefeated–taken down by a kid with a rock in a sling.”  He must have thought, “I hope my brothers never hear about this.”

Up in your state penitentiary you will find quite a number of good guys, people with impressive credentials and strong convictions and good records of achievement.  But mixed in with their outstanding accomplishments was the leaven: a single habit they could not control, a friendship out of bounds, a secret vice, a weakness.

At this moment, the Christian community is discussing a prominent pastor for whom the world was his oyster, as the saying goes. He was a star among the ministerial heavens.  He built a great church, wrote popular books, was in demand for every program and conference.  And now, look at him.  Felled by such a little thing.  No one is more shocked than he.  “How could this be?” he’s wondering at this moment.

Who am I talking about? Which preacher with what problem? Take your pick.  There are so many to choose from.

I’ve been reading “In Your Face: Cartoonist at Work” by Doug Marlette, the Pulitzer-Prize winning artist for newspapers such as the Charlotte Observer, the Atlanta Constitution-Journal, and Newsday.  At the time he did editorial cartoons for these papers, he was also turning out “Kudzu,” a syndicated daily strip with wide distribution.  He published many books and received all the awards and accolades a cartoonist could hope for.

Doug Marlette was younger than me and should still be around doing what he did so well, satirizing our foibles and turning out books about Will B. Dunn, the cartoon preacher. His clippings adorned refrigerators and professors’ doors far and wide.   Marlette, who would have turned 65 later this year, would probably still be with us except for one little thing.

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Getting old: What Robin Williams feared, we all do

“I said to him afterward, ‘Hey, are you O.K.?’ And he said something like, ‘It’s no fun getting old.  And I am so (freaking) old.’ But he said it in one of his funny voices, like he was some ancient old guy.  Like it was a joke.”  –A story told by an unnamed colleague on the set of Robin Williams’ television series “The Crazy Ones.” During a break in the shooting, Williams had gone off and sat by himself.  He looked exhausted and sad.

It’s no joke, this business of getting old.

The August 25, 2014 issue of TIME devotes the last half-dozen pages to the life and art of Robin Williams, the comic genius who ended his own life last week.

I thought when I first heard the news and before reading anything about his chronic depression and repeated addictions that he feared getting old and decided to abort that process.  Nothing I’ve read or heard since has changed that opinion.

No one should interpret any of this as my attempt to psychoanalyze Mr. Williams.  Obviously, his situation–the circumstances that led him to make the decision to end his life on his own terms–was complicated by a thousand factors, as would be true of any of the rest of us. Someone said he was in the early stages of Parkinson’s.

I understand about the fear of getting old.

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In case the Lord ever forgets me

“The righteous will be remembered forever” (Psalm 112:6).

What do you suppose would happen if the Father in Heaven ever got Alzheimer’s?

After all, He’s really, really old, right?

Okay. Not going to happen, of course. My whimsy gene is just asserting itself today.  Scripture makes it plain that “He knows those who are His” (2 Timothy 2:19).

But it did start me to thinking….

What if the Lord really ever were in danger of forgetting me?

Well, the good news is He has these memory aids, mnemonic devices they are called, to guarantee that He doesn’t lose track of any of us.  And no, I do not mean God ties a string around His finger.  Something far better.

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