And then God showed up…

Psalm 34

I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.

The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are attentive to their cry;

The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. The righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all;

Psalm 34:4, 15, 17-19

My days at the NIH were settling into a predictable routine.  My mornings would begin early as nurses would draw labs between 4 and 6am.  Their presence would be replaced by doctor after doctor making their rounds, each interpreting the latest test results and making recommendations as to my course of care. It was a lot of, “let’s just stay the course.”

This proved to be difficult for me not only physically, but mentally.  Every day I worked with physical therapists, occupational therapists, recreation therapists, acupuncture therapists and so many other specialists that it was easy to lose count.  They would strap me in to machines, shock my muscles and look for muscle movement no matter how small.  I would experience moments of progress, the shrugging of shoulders, drumming of fingers on the table, or turning of my head a few centimeters from side to side.  All of it was so small and although in reality it was a miracle, and everyone was pleased with my progress,  I was becoming more aware that I wouldn’t walk out of the hospital at day 100.  

The news from the medical professionals was confusing.  Some, like Dr. Malech would offer encouragement. He was convinced that I would regain most of my mobility once the infection was eradicated and my nerves were allowed to heal, but neurologists were less optimistic— or maybe just more realistic.  They would do what they could to shield me from discouraging news, but would feel the need to honestly say they had no way to know if, when, or how much mobility I would regain.  As a result, my days were filled with hopeful moments, which would then be dashed by the cold water of reality.

Jodi even pulled one of my dear neurologists out into the hallway so that she could be brutally honest with her.  The neurologist leveled with her, informing her that in her professional opinion, I would not regain any more function, and we needed to begin making arrangements for me to live the rest of my life as a quadriplegic.

God had saved me from Chronic Granulomatous Disease.  He was using my new German white blood cells to fight off the infection in my spine, but I continued to lay in this bed, immobile, day after day.  I had a tracheotomy in my neck allowing me to receive oxygen and breathing support, a feeding tube that would provide my nourishment and oral medicines, a Hickman port in my right shoulder, and PICC line in my left arm.  I was unable to use the bathroom, feed myself, regulate my body temperature, speak with out a special valve in my neck, or scratch my nose.  Yes, God had saved me, but for what kind of existence?  So that I could be a burden to my family for the rest of my life?  To never preach again?  To never be able to provide for my family?

I was beginning to have abdominal muscle spasms.  Doctors started pumping me full of medications to help control them, and although they were not necessarily painful, they were certainly annoying.  My entire body would jerk with each spasm and someone just watching from the outside might think that I just had a bad case of the hiccups.  The doctors were even divided as to how these involuntary spasms should be interpreted.  Some felt like this was a sign of nerves and muscles beginning to reconnect and even predicted that I would have more spasms in different parts of my body, while others felt like these spasms may just be residual effects of the nerve damage that has been caused by the infection.  No one could know for sure.  

Every night, Jodi and I would cry out to God.  In our video updates I would plead with the Body of Christ to intercede on my behalf, specifically asking for the nerves in my legs and feet to begin responding to the signals my brain was trying to send.  Day after day we prayed, begged, and asked God to do what only he could do.  But as days turned into weeks, and weeks to months, hope in my recovery began to dwindle.  It seemed as if God wasn’t listening.  

And then, I had a bad afternoon.

We had taken a field trip to the physical therapy gym where they worked on strengthening my core muscles.  As the session came to a close, my therapist told me that her boss, Dr. Paul wanted to come and talk to me about my therapy options upon my discharge from the NIH. As he began to speak, his words hit me like a ton of bricks.  I had hoped that I would be able to go to inpatient therapy somewhere close to my hometown.  I had spent months away from my friends and family, and although I had been blessed to be able to have many visitors, and a wonderful team that cared for me deeply in Maryland, I longed to be near to my girls again.  Dr. Paul let me know that this wasn’t going to be possible.  He explained that because of insurance, I wold only get one shot at a therapy location, and I needed to go to a place that was capable of handing complex spinal injuries like mine.  The two best suited were hours from northwest Tennessee.  I sat in my makeshift wheelchair dejected and broken.  My therapist caught onto this, came near to me and whispered that I didn’t need to say anything right now, and that they would take me back to my room as tears streamed down my face.  

Now I have been a follower of Christ since I was a little boy.  At this point I had served Him in full time vocational ministry for my entire adult life.  I knew that God was listening.  I knew that he heard me.  I knew that when he didn’t give me the desires of my heart, it was because he had something better waiting for me.  Intellectually I knew all of these things well.  Emotionally and mentally, the darkness was closing in all around me.  I was struggling.  I needed to know that he saw me.  I needed to know he was listening. I needed to know he cared.

And then He showed up.

At the end of the day, as things were winding down, we got an unexpected visit from a familiar face.  Dr. DeRaven was one of the CGD and transplant doctors that had been with me since the beginning, and she is a believer.  She came in and spoke truth over me that was simple and poignant.  She said God was not finished with me.  She spoke over my pain and assured me that although I may still have a long way to go, I am going to be just fine.  Then, she just stared at me.  At first it was awkward.  She just stood in silence peering a hole through me.  And then I felt it.  Faint at first.  Then more strongly.  The Holy Spirit was interceding on my behalf.  It was as if God himself was gazing upon my motionless body laying in the bed.  I the span of a moment it became so clear.  God saw me.  God heard me.  God had not abandoned me.  He was there, present with me, even in my darkest moments.

He was with David when he penned the words in Psalm 34, and He is with you when you find yourself with your back against the wall.  He truly is close to the brokenhearted and hears the cry of the righteous.  

I wish I could tell you that I never struggled again after that moment,  but that would not be true.  What is true is that in that moment, God’s presence was real and palpable.  He had not forgotten me, and would not abandon me.  My future was still unknown.  But I wouldn’t have to face it alone.

I don’t know what you are going through.  I don’t know how alone you feel right now.  What I do know, is that if you are a child of God he is attentive to your cries.  He hears you.  He is close to you.  And He will deliver you, and He will save you.  It may not be in the timing you would prefer, and it may not be in the way you feel is best.  But it is what will bring God the most glory, and you the best good.  Because He who began the work will finish it.  

… he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

Philippians 1:6b