42 years, 255 pages, and dozens of attempts later, it’s done. I’m finally a published author!
Though He Fall: My Journey Through Surrender, Loss, And A Thousand Healings is my testimony of God’s sustaining grace through disability, grief, and a parent’s worst nightmare. Above all, it’s the story of the overwhelming goodness and sustaining grace of God.
Early in the summer, I was pressed, rather than prompted, by the Lord to “finish the book.” It seemed urgent back then, so I laid aside almost all of my other activities and sank myself into the discipline of writing in order to get my story “out there.”
With the generous help and keen eye of some friends, I’m happy to report it’s done. I couldn’t have finished this assignment without Kelli and Tim and Mark and Kim and, of course, Sandy. The book is a whole lot better because of them.
I’m honored to share this project with you and pray you will be given a wider lens through which to see the amazing mercies of God. Indeed, He doeth all things well.
We sang that tune as children, hoping that rain wouldn’t ruin our summer plans. As adults we hope and pray our family trip to the ballpark won’t be rained out. We won’t mind if there’s a deluge on the way home, but just don’t rain on our chance to watch our favorite team play.
And so it is in the weather patterns of life. As much as we want “rain, rain go away,” we’ll gladly settle for a break in the clouds.
I have sympathy for the Gen Z-ers who’ve been dropped onto an Omaha Beach of constant extremes. The news of the day never seems to quiet for them; everything is mass hysteria and one outrage after another. For them it’s like the London blitz every day.
Winston Churchill told the people of London in 1942, “This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.” As the nation sagged beneath the rubble left behind by German war planes, its leader comforted them with (I’ll improvise here), “We’re grieving and angry and sad, but we’re still here; we’re alive; we have today. There may be more woes to come but at least we don’t have to endure what is past anymore. We have discovered this day that we are made of better stuff than we realized.”
Bless God for pauses. They allow us to catch our breath; reassess. Sure, the forecast is bleak. Bills will again come due, your reverie will get interrupted, a recent victory will be short-lived, chances are you will get sideswiped out of nowhere. But for now, in this holy moment, hear God say, “I got you. It’s okay.”
The night is long, but the sun will shine. It may be fleeting; the afternoon may bring bad news yet again. But that sunrise means new mercies and is a reminder that God was present.
The sun comes up, it’s a new day dawning; It’s time to sing Your song again. Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, Let me be singing when the evening comes.
Paul had a friend named Onesiphorus who visited him in prison often. The apostle put the experience of having such a man in his life into a letter, describing him as “a breath of fresh air.”
The Lord grant mercy to the household of Onesiphorus, for he often refreshed me and was not ashamed of my [a]chains
2 Timothy 1:16
Long ago I spent some time meditating on that word “refreshed” and imagined Paul as a farmer ploughing on an oppressively hot day. As he stands in the middle of the sun-baked clay, he removes his farmer hat and wipes the glistening sweat from his farmer brow. The air is still and unbearably close. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there’s a breeze. It blows in quietly and gently wraps him in its embrace. Finally, air! He can breathe; he is instantly refreshed, if but for a moment. This was what Onesiphorus’s encouragement did for God’s man in the heat of his crucible.
Long seasons of hardship have us crying uncle, but it seems like no uncle is coming to rescue us. How many times have we felt drowned beneath the waters of oppression? We gasp, desperately needing a chance to to come up for air. Just when we right ourself enough to tread water, it drags us down, pushes us under, grabbing and holding us. Please, God, air!
This morning our pastor led in a prayer of confession and repentance and as I was quietly opening up to the Lord the warring in my soul, a kind woman walked over to me and asked if she might lay a hand on me and pray. Of course I said yes. She prayed silently, and when the pastor said amen, Rachel said amen and removed her hand. I thanked her and for the next hour I could feel where her hand rested on my back. She blessed me with hope.
A good night’s sleep, a meaningful verse, a gentle hand on your shoulder, a smile from a stranger. These are things that can aid us in moving forward, even if it’s in shuffling half-steps. I pray whatever you’re going through, it is the end of the beginning. I pray for the refreshing wind of God to wrap you for a time and give you strength to put your next foot forward. I hope the sky opens up and gives you some breathing room.
We know it’s not the end, but at least we can reckon that it’s the end of the beginning, and that’s good enough…for now. I can’t wait for the heavenly-mandated full-stop of suffering of all kinds, when every teary eye is dried, and there’s no more pain, no more curse. But for right now I give thanks for when God hits the pause button.
SPEAKING OF PAUSES…I’m not going to be posting quite as regularly for the next couple months or longer. I’m not dormant; I just completed a couple of smaller writing projects and now I’m part way through a bigger one, one that’s consuming most of my writing energy. I humbly ask for your prayers to finish well. Selah, beloved.
I call out to you, “Violence!” But you do not deliver!
Habakkuk 1:2
Two Fridays ago was meant to be when 9-year old Evelyn Dieckhaus was to sing “What a Wonderful World” in a play at her Nashville school. Instead, her life was cut short by a bullet from an AR-15 carried by a young woman with a demonic grudge.
A bullied thirteen year old Indiana boy recently ended his life. Before committing suicide he left a video in which he named his tormentors. They made fun of his size, his haircut, and his clothes. The seventh grader dreamed of playing for the St. Louis Cardinals someday. Tragically, all he leaves behind is a void.
Why do you force me to witness injustice? Why do you put up with wrongdoing?
Habakkuk 1:3
In the Netherlands, a television show had transgendered adults appearing naked in front of an audience of impressionable children. Unashamedly exposed, each expressed to the 10- to 12-year olds how “euphoric” they felt about their sex change surgeries. Grooming and pedophilia aren’t even masked anymore.
You are too just to tolerate evil; you are unable to condone wrongdoing. So why do you put up with such treacherous people?
Habakkuk 1:13
Habakkuk speaks for all of us. How much news do we need to watch before we say, “Make it make sense, Lord!” Just when I think it’s safe to open up Twitter, I find myself needing to log off for my own emotional health.
Habakkuk, like us, reacted to the news cycle of his day. And, like many of us, he wasn’t exactly subtle with his objections:
HOW LONG, LORD? (v2)
YOU DON’T LISTEN! (v2)
YOU DON’T DELIVER! (v2)
WHY? (v3)
WHY DO YOU PUT UP WITH THESE PEOPLE? (v13)
WHY DO YOU SAY NOTHING? (v13)
ARE YOU GOING TO LET THEM GET AWAY WITH THIS FOREVER? (v17)
I can sing about a heavenly home and enjoy for a moment the stirrings it evokes, but a land in the “sweet by-and-by” feels a long stretch of road and many miles away. I know everything will make sense then, but how do we make sense of things now?
That was Habakkuk’s dilemma. Isaiah, a hundred years before him, lamented, “We wait for light, but see only darkness.”
What hope is there for a young mother who vomits from her second round of chemo or the college coed showering off her sexual assault or a parent standing over the grave of a child who was struck down in a drive-by? Where was God when all of this was happening to me?
In today’s world the inmates are running the asylum. We, on the other hand, are plagued with “headline stress disorder” and weighed down with laments in the key of heavy. Society is twisted and dark and getting darker by the day. A growing number believe the world has long passed its expiration date. Hope, for them, is a folly.
If you stick it out with the young prophet you’ll begin to heal, whatever your situation. While his opening remarks are freighted with anger and frustration, by chapter 2 he sees a glimmer. By the 3rd chapter, the glimmer becomes a fiery sunrise.
I will stand at my watch post; I will remain stationed on the city wall…
Habakkuk 2:1
If chapter one asks the question, “WHERE ARE YOU, GOD?” Habakkuk gets his answer in the last verse of chapter two:
the LORD is in his holy temple.
Habakkuk 2:20
The smoldering prophet gets this epiphany when he says, “I’m too worked up. I’m going to stop, watch, and listen.” I can’t tell you how many times in my journey I’ve had to take counsel with those words. Habakkuk takes a sabbath day and starts to see and think and, yes, feel differently. By the time our guy closes in prayer (chapter 3) you’re of a mind to start unlacing your shoes.
David saw the same thing. He was battling an inner urge to fly away, to flee, to find a cave and hide from everything and everyone. But he knew a few things about his God: he knew God was eyewitness to all that troubled and provoked David (Psa 11:4) and was on his side (Psa 11:5); he also knew God was “just” (Psa 11:7) and would vindicate and bless David in the end. And while all those destroyers of the foundations (Psa 11:3) suffer brimstone and fire and reap the whirlwind (Psa 11:6), he would gaze upon the beauty of the LORD.
Habakkuk leaves us with two watchwords to aid us in trusting God to make sense of our nonsensical world. He invites us to (1) remain at our post (Hab 2:1-4) and (2) go to our knees (Hab 3:1-16).
“Our post” is the place where we can do the most good in the Kingdom:
It is where we walk by faith, not by sight (2 Cor 5:7).
It is where we hold fast the confession of our hope (Heb 10:23).
It is where wekeep ourselves in the love of God (Jude 21).
In music theory notes that aren’t part of the harmonic chords in an arrangement are said to create “tension.” To move those notes back into alignment with the whole theme is called “resolution.”
Today’s headlines and clickbaits draw attention to drama that doesn’t belong in the desired intent of God’s Story. Nevertheless God knows how to bring resolution from the tension. He’s done it before; he’ll do it again.
Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.”
—Frederick Buechner
Good and bad. Horrifying and glorifying. Take it all…and put it in God’s great hands.
